January 17, 2014
Ahhhh..... I finally have WiFi in the
mobile home as promised in the advertisement when I
rented the place. It will be difficult to describe the
harrowing experience I went through to get the WiFi unit
installed, but I'll try, I'll try.
A complaint on our second day in
residence to the realtor yielded a promise to contact
the owner and inform them of the absence of WiFi. A
weekend intervened, so three days later we got word that
a WiFi unit was in the mail from Comcast. It arrived a
few days later with detailed instructions for
installation. Now, we were charged with doing Comcast's
installation work despite a woeful lack of knowledge
among the three of us about things electronic. I am an
absolute geek when compared to my two companions, but I
barely know a USB port from a modem. We persisted and
the equipment was hooked up, wires spreading like
octopus legs from the box and back of the TV set (which
we all recognized). Lights blinked, some lit completely,
reception was noted on my iPad, but access was denied
time after time.
The only WiFi access I had during the
first 10 days of my stay was at the "Ragged Ass Saloon"
where I walked (about a mile) to breakfast in the
morning to check emails. I don't name these places, I
only report their existence and the Saloon is the only
restaurant in this rather primitive city serving
breakfast. There was also sporadic connectivity from
neighbor's units in the wee hours of the night in my
bedroom from which some of you may have received emails
sent at odd hours.
After a day of attempting to insert
accompanying Comcast passwords and names to no avail, I
began a series of calls to Comcast that can only be
described as laughably frustrating. I was given five
different phone numbers to call on one day by Comcast
employees who couldn't address my problem. Two were
located in Florida, one in west Texas, one in
Harrisburg, PA, and two in Manila in the Philippines.
Finally, an employee in Manila convinced me that I
needed a technician visit, REALLY? And, he could
schedule it for me. Fantastic, but the first time
available was the following Tuesday, another weekend
intervening. "No problem, send them over." Fine, he'll
call a half-hour before his arrival between 10 and
12. I gave him my cell number and waited by the
phone that day until 3:30 when I gave up in disgust. No
call and no technician arrived. A wasted day!
Suffice it to say, by the next day I
was a tad frosted, even after calming myself on my walk
to the "Ragged Ass" for breakfast. I called the realtor
and she said she would have an employee stop and try to
complete the hook-up, though she wasn't a technician.
Not a technician is correct, but she was the wife of a
commercial fisherman and we got some valuable local
information during her failed attempt to complete the
installation. She did call Comcast and got a promise
that a technician would visit the next day (yesterday)
during the same magical 10-12 morning block of time, but
he would call first. Great.
I waited and we delayed a trip to the
Everglades to count alligators, but there was no phone
call. At 12:30, I blew my cork with a call to the
realtor, threatening lawsuits, demanding a rebate for
lack of promised amenities, mentioning a refund and a
move to another rental, before realizing that the poor
realtor was between a rock and a hard place. She said
that 90% of her complaints are about Comcast service and
she had just gotten off the phone with a renter who was
nasty, obnoxious, loud, and bitter. I must have sounded
like a sweetheart, comparatively speaking. Anyway, I
told her I was heading for the Everglades and it was not
my responsibility to waste vacation time to await
service that was advertised to be there upon my arrival.
She sounded and was helpless about the situation, but
said she would do what she could.
As I angrily installed addresses in
my GPS for the trip to the Everglades, with numerous
mistakes due to my frustration that delayed our
departure, a Comcast truck pulled into the driveway. The
technician installed the unit, saying (surprise,
surprise) that we hadn't installed it correctly and I
now have WiFi. The technician (a subcontractor)
suggested that Comcast would do better to hire more
Americans to give better service and improve their
severely tarnished reputation; he hears complaints
everywhere he goes. I called the realtor immediately to
brighten her day. My elevated blood pressure will still
prevent me from writing about the beginning of this
year's journey until some time tomorrow, but write it I
will. First, I think I shall hit a few golf balls!
January 18,
2014
This
year's adventure began in Pittsburgh, PA, where two
couples who have been celebrating the New Year
together for twenty years traveled for the
celebration. Pittsburgh was this year's choice of
cities in which to ring in the new year and we got
there via Amtrak, a relaxing, six-hour journey. At
7:30 a.m. on January 2nd, we boarded the return train
arriving home just in time for me to empty my suitcase
and repack it with the warm weather clothing I had
piled in a ready position on the bed. It's good I had
prepared the summer togs in advance because a nasty
snow storm forecast for the area was closing in. I put
the golf clubs, GPS, telephone charger, suitcase, and
backpack in the car, said my "good-byes" and headed
for CVS pharmacy to pick up enough medication to last
the winter. On my way out of town, the snow started to
fall and the farther east I got, the heavier the snow
fell. By the time I reached Gap, PA, I was driving in
blizzard conditions, making my exit an anxious one,
but one that fully justified my reason for heading
south.
I was
headed for Milford, DE, where my brother, John, and my
lifelong friend, Larry, were waiting in my brother's
vacation, mobile home with his boat already hooked up
and ready for the long drive. Larry, John's constant
fishing companion these days, was going along to
bolster him because of my brother's anxiety about
towing the large, twenty-foot Wellcraft on its
dual-axle trailer. My brother is a very conservative
individual and not much of a risk taker. Larry's
"devil may care" attitude was just what he needed to
make the journey. The plan was to leave early the next
morning, drive down the Delmarva peninsula, and cross
the Chesapeake Bay on the Bay Bridge-Tunnel, getting
as far south as possible before spending the night.
The
farther south I drove that evening, the lighter the
snow became and I breathed a sigh of relief by the
time I reached Wilmington, DE. It was very stressful
driving up to that point, but I was even afforded the
luxury of a dinner stop south of Dover because the
snow had almost stopped falling. We talked about an
early start the next morning before turning in that
evening, but were stunned at first light when we
looked out the window to see 6-8 inches of snow
covering the car, truck, and boat. Snow is so rare in
Delaware that a snow shovel was not among the
equipment stored in the broom closet. We did have two
brooms, however, and used them to brush enough snow
out of the way to get my Volvo on the unplowed,
trailer park street and head for a hardware store to
acquire a snow shovel. A decision was finally reached
at 11:00 a.m. to make a run for it, though the roads
were icy, slick with blown snow, and exceedingly
dangerous. On our way south at a very tentative pace,
we witnessed a dozen accidents or more, cars in
ditches, on their roofs, on their sides, and snuggled
up against other cars they met after long skids. It
was not an encouraging kick-off to this year's
adventure.
As we
progressed south, miles and miles south, we began to
notice a slight decrease in the snow accumulation. At
the southern tip of Delmarva, there was no snow, but
upon reaching Norfolk, VA, a slight accumulation of
snow was evident on the fields and along the highway.
We were miles south of Norfolk before the snow
disappeared completely. We kept hammering south,
reaching Wilson, NC, where we stopped for the night,
ate dinner, and congratulated ourselves on a good
decision to depart and our careful driving.
The
next day we made plenty of progress and spent the
night south of Daytona Beach, Florida. By noon the
following day we arrived at our destination in St.
James City on Pine Island. Tomorrow, I will attempt to
describe the city, our quarters, and a few of our
activities to date. The warm weather has been
fantastic!
January 20,
2014
Devoid of beaches and surrounded by mangroves, Pine
Island is the poor cousin of highly developed Sanibel
and Captiva Islands a short distance across the bay.
There is a commercial fishing industry, producing
oysters, clams, and fresh fish, and a small agricultural
zone, growing crops I have not discovered, yet. The
island is sixteen miles long with St. James City located
on the southern extremity. The city is a community of
mobile homes, pick-up trucks, canals, boat lifts,
marinas, bait and tackle shops, and a few restaurants,
most located dockside on a canal and featuring bar food,
highlighted by fried local seafood. There are a few,
very few, gorgeous homes only a short walk from our
location and all have canal frontage and boat lifts. The
town is also the destination for weekend motorcycle day
trips when many Harleys and their riders visit the local
pubs. The "Ragged Ass Saloon," (I don't name these
places, I merely report) and "Woody's Waterside" seem to
be the most popular, but the "Ragged Ass" is the only
place in town that serves breakfast. I have become a
regular there, visiting several times a week after
walking the mile from our humble abode for my morning
exercise and repast.
There
is a small, St. James General Store, but the closest
supermarket is Winn Dixie, an eight-mile drive away.
Also located at the island's center is a Dairy Queen, a
Dollar Store, a couple banks, a CVS pharmacy, a liquor
store, and a Chinese Restaurant. The shopping on the
island will not excite any readers, but on the next tiny
island, through which one must pass to get to Pine
Island, is the tiny town of Matlacha (mat la shay) that
has a couple motels, several restaurants, fish markets,
marinas, and all the usual tourist shops. There is one
golf course about 12 miles away that seems short, but
which sports water on 16 of the 18 holes. I have chipped
and putted at the course where everyone seems very
friendly, figuring they have another snowbird to pluck.
I have
fished three times and my brother and Larry have fished
almost every day, the last five or six in succession. We
are not catching humongous fish, but have caught 12
different species in large numbers, some of which ended
up in the frying pan. The sheepshead and the trout large
enough to keep were delicious. A fishing license is
required for both salt and fresh water fishing, but we
only purchased an annual, out-of-state resident, salt
water license which cost about $60. As soon as the tide
is right, I'm certain that the boys will be out lashing
the water again today. My goal for the day is to get in
a round of golf.
The
weather has been marvelous, but the locals are freezing.
Daily lows have dipped to 40 on a couple of mornings,
but quickly rise to the daily high of around 70. One or
two days have been as warm as 88 degrees, but most have
been very comfortable.
I have
dined at most of the local restaurants, though John and
Larry favor the McDonald's just off the island or the
local VFW and American Legions. I had a great seafood
chowder at Cap'n Con's on the northern tip of the
island, recommended by a reader of this blog. He and his
wife make an annual trip to the island to consume that
delicious concoction. My thanks to him; it will not be
my last visit to that place.
I will
transport Larry to the Clearwater/St. Petersburg Airport
(PIE) on Friday, hoping to stop on the way in Tarpon
Springs to show him the docks of the sponge divers and
to dine in one of the famous Greek restaurants close-by.
After dropping him off, I will search out a small hotel
where I will spend the night with my wife, whom I will
pick up in the evening at the same airport. She has
never seen that part of Florida, so we will probably
prowl Clearwater Beach and may even have lunch at Tarpon
Springs. I like the food and she has never been to that
port, either.
Saturday
evening, like a bad penny, Schim will turn up again. We
will meet him and his beautiful, significant other, MJ,
in Lakeland for dinner. The man just keeps turning up in
these winter adventures. He is threatening to visit us
in St. James City to show us how to fish, which will be
interesting since he hasn't fished since he was 12 years
of age, some 65 years ago. I'll update as further
occasions warrant, so stay tuned.
January 22,
2014
I experienced
a short-term satisfaction with WiFi and internet
accessibility, because my iPad started sending me
the signal that my server could not be accessed and
that I should check my settings. Since I had done
nothing to the settings, I just waited, assuming
that the server would soon recognize my warm, fuzzy
approaches to it. Not! After 24 hours, I
called Comcast this morning, speaking directly to
Javier in Bogota, Columbia. It certainly is a global
Comcast economy, that much is certain, but this time
Javier refreshed my modem, had me turn the iPad off
and on, and bingo, I'm back up and at 'em. Hence,
this update is now possible.
92,
in case the golfers out there are wondering what I
shot in my first round in three months at Alden
Pines "Country Club" on Pine Island a couple days
back. That score was not bad, considering the five
balls I saw disappear into the dreaded Mangrove
ponds and swamps that bordered almost all fairways.
I played the round with a husband and wife team that
was retired from the Army. He a retired Major in
anti-aircraft artillery and she a nursing Lt.
Colonel. It was awkward with him having to salute
her on every tee, but we made it through the round
without an injury, the most important consideration
after a three-month hiatus. I was very tired by the
end of the day and probably should have begun my
comeback with a nine-hole round, but I never was
that smart. I cooked dinner at home that evening,
warming up frozen, chicken wings and dipping them in
delicious blue cheese dressing - the entire menu.
The nutrition notwithstanding, I felt great after a
good night's sleep.
Fishing
buddy Larry has been saddled with a cold the past
few days, so he and John have not been fishing. He
is feeling somewhat better today and, if it warms
sufficiently, we may head out on the water later
this afternoon. The polar air hasn't reached this
part of Florida, but the evenings have been chilly,
reaching 40 degrees on a couple of mornings. That
sounds cool, but watching the snowstorm batter the
northeast last night and having temps reach the
lower 60's this afternoon will cause few complaints
from these snowbirds.
Friday
afternoon, I deliver Larry to the Clearwater airport
(PIE) and pick-up my wife at the same terminal in
the evening. The plans after her arrival are
starting to come into focus. We will have lunch in
Tarpon Springs, then head to Orlando to meet Schim
and MJ for dinner. The next morning we will head for
St. James City with a few sightseeing stops along
the way. I'll report anything I think may be of
interest to you.
January 29, 2014
While
I realize that the world isn't waiting for my
next word, I probably owe an explanation to
those who tune in to my comments on a somewhat
regular basis. My iPad has been on a trip of
its own while I ferried Larry to the
Clearwater airport and picked up Joan there a
few hours later. The iPad rode along to
Clearwater and rested in the small, very nice
condo I procured ($89/night, plus tax) at a
tiny hotel on North Clearwater Beach while I
made the trip to the small airport that also
serves Sarasota and Tampa for inexpensive
airlines like Allegiant that has a direct
flight to/from Harrisburg.
The next day, as Joan
and I toured Clearwater Beach, Dunedin, and
lunched in Tarpon Springs at Hellas, an
outstanding Greek restaurant and bakery across
the street from the Greek sponge docks, the
iPad seemed safe and secure in the trunk of
the car. It rode along on the back roads
to Orlando where Schim and MJ awaited us at
MJ's house. We spent the night there and in
the morning, over a delicious breakfast
highlighted by a blueberry, cream cheese, and
egg casserole that MJ (and Schim) made for us,
the iPad rested on a side table in the living
room. After breakfast, I took photos on the
iPad (for easy transmittal) of MJ's beautiful
home and lanai. You're probably ahead of me
here, but, after a tour of Winter Park and its
beautiful homes, we bade good-bye to Schim and
MJ and headed to Pine Island on back roads
most of the way. In Kissimmee, about an hour
out, my phone rang and Schim informed me that
the iPad was still lying on the table in MJ's
living room. We almost returned to pick it up,
but Schim assured me that he could ship it to
me and save me time. It was Sunday afternoon
when Schim called and he sent the iPad by UPS
overnight service. The iPad arrived Tuesday
around 5:00 p.m. in perfect operating order,
since Schim packed it in the Chrome box that
he had conveniently and recently purchased.
Thanks, Schim. I'm back up and running again.
Long story, happy ending.
There
are a few stories to relate during the iPad's
absence, but I'll only attempt to recount one
today. While trying to consume time waiting
for Joan's plane to arrive, I decided to wash
the windows of my car, inside and out.
Admittedly, I am somewhat obsessive/compulsive
about clean windows in my car, a 2004 Volvo
S80 - named Sadie. Where could I wash the
windows while facing the sun to see all the
dirt on the windshield, you wonder? Come on, I
know you wondered. I went to Brighthouse
Field, the spring training home of the
Philadelphia Phillies, where I remembered a
huge park with ballfields adjacent to the
major league facility. There, on the Joe
DiMaggio field complex, I pulled the car onto
the dirt parking lot where 25 or thirty cars
were parked on the lot that could easily
handle 1,000 cars. I had purchased Invisible
Glass, a product manufactured in Lancaster
County, at an auto parts store that afternoon,
and the product and I did a great job of
cleaning the glass. When finished, I glanced
down at two of the fields in the complex and
noticed a team in blue uniforms practicing on
the field I had watched a college spring game
on a prior visit to Florida. On the adjacent
field, I saw a game with two teams, one
dressed in red shirts, one in white. It was
quite a distance away, but I decided to stroll
down and see if perhaps the red and white
teams were two Phillies minor league teams
going at it. Nope. As I got closer and could
see the action more clearly, I watched three
pitches and knew these weren't professionals.
It even passed through my mind that I still
possessed more expertise than the pitcher who
threw those three, arched offerings to the
batter. Probably not, but it passed through
this old athlete's mind. Turns out, the game
was one of five, the others being conducted on
the Phillies complex next door, of the
Phillies Fantasy Camp. These folks were all
(120 of them) would-be major leaguers, who
paid $5,000 for the privilege of rubbing
shoulders with Phillies of yesteryear who
offered encouragement and advice. The old
Phillies were there: Larry Anderson, from whom
I stood five feet distant, listening to him
regale a couple fans with stories of his life
and yesteryear. Mariano Duncan, Mickey
Morandini, Milt Thompson, and Dickey Noles
were all there on the field yelling
suggestions and insults. The participants were
having a great time. I began talking to a
petite lady standing near-by who talked to a
couple of players in the dug-out. Mistakenly
thinking that she was the spouse of one of the
players, she quickly informed me that she had
participated in this event the past six years,
but had to replace her heat pump this year and
couldn't afford the tuition. She said that
many participants were there several years
running, because it was such a great time. The
lady was nobody's spouse; she was a petite,
retired police officer from the Harrisburg
police department.
It
was an interesting diversion, my windows were
clean, Joan's plane was a half-hour late, but
arrived safely, and we had a light bite to eat
before retiring for the night. I will attempt
to update a few more of the stories about the
missing days in another edition. Stay
tuned.
January 30, 2014
I need to go
back to last Thursday, the day before I
shuttled Larry and Joan to and from
Clearwater, for the next story I think
some of you might find interesting. It
was a fishing day and John, Larry, and I
continued to catch large numbers of
small fish using live shrimp as bait. We
had caught a dozen species of fish
during our time on the water during the
past two weeks. The day was over and we
decided not to keep any fish for dinner
that evening, throwing them all back;
that was a good thing, because we only
caught one or two fish, sheepshead,
mangrove snapper, and trout, that were
legal. Almost the entire trip off the
water is through canals with boats on
boat lifts and expensive docks lining
the sides of the twenty-yard marine
highways. That meant the trip in and out
required no wake from the boat's motors
to protect the properties. There were
also many signs declaring that no wake
was permitted from April through November because of
the presence of manatees in the canals.
We have seen no manatees, but have
spotted numerous porpoises up close and
personal, one even swimming under our
dock and startling John while he cast
into the canal.
Because we travel so slowly into
and out of the canals, we troll
artificial lures while we move,
though we have never seen others doing
the same. We have never made a trip in
or out that we haven't caught fish while
trolling, but they were always
relatively small. Thursday, on the way
in, I began trolling a larger, white
sluggo, on a fluorescent-green jig head,
while the others continued using the
smaller yellow jig and twister that we
had been using every other trip. I had a
huge hit, immediately recognizing the
larger weight of the fish I had hooked,
but I was unprepared for the 10 or 15
minute fight that ensued. The fight in
the narrow canal was complicated by the
thick mangrove roots on one side of this
canal. The fish fought in an erratic
pattern, taking it on both sides of the
boat and under the motor on a couple
runs. Another boat with two fishermen
witnessed the entire fight and remained
respectfully back while I was engaged in
the battle. We could not identify the
large, beautiful fish once Larry netted
it, but the other fishermen said that it
was a pompano and that they were
delicious. We kept the 10-pound specimen
and, when Larry began to clean the fish
on our dock, two of my brother's friends
and their spouses from Delaware pulled
into our driveway. One of them, another
Larry, owns a property here and has been
fishing these waters for decades. He
properly identified the fish as a Jack
Crevalle and told us they were great
fighters (of that I was already aware),
but were not good to eat, though he
liked to smoke them. Hmm, I wonder how
he gets them into the pipe?? The Jack
filets now lie frozen in our freezer,
after an overnight soak in salt water,
while we figure out if we should eat it
or feed it to the friendly pelicans who
greet us at the dock whenever we return
from a fishing trip.
Next time, I'll try to describe
our trips to and from Clearwater and
yesterday's visit to Sanibel and
Captiva. Stay tuned.
February 4, 2014
January was
pretty much consumed by touring
southwest Florida, several fishing
outings out the canal, around the
mangroves, and in Fort Myers Bay, and
one lone golfing venture on Pine
Island's only course. Larry wanted to
see alligators, so we pulled that off
on a day trip to alligator alley. Joan
had never been to Venice, Naples,
Sanibel, Captiva, and neither of us
had seen Marco Island. We lunched at
the Mucky Duck on the extreme tip of
Captiva, at Schim's recommendation,
and enjoyed the trip to all of these
locations that are markedly more
upscale than St. James City. We saw
many other small towns in the area and
also had lunch in Tarpon Springs,
visited Schim and MJ and generally
acted like the snowbirds we are. The
restaurants of southwest Florida have
appreciated our visit.
Larry's exit was very routine,
but Joan's departure 10 days later
while a snowstorm dumped eight inches
of snow on the northeast was a little
more hairy. It was made more anxious
this week by media reports from Ft.
Myers that Allegiant Airlines had
failed to fly out of Punta Gorda to
points north during the last storm,
blaming the bad weather on the
cancellations. The media questioned
that claim, theorizing that Allegiant
didn't have the proper equipment
possessed by other airlines which
permitted flying in the extant
conditions. Joan was flying nonstop,
as are most Allegiant flights, from
Clearwater to Harrisburg and the storm
lacing Pennsylvania certainly appeared
to cast a doubt on her flight home.
Allegiant had responded about the
Punta Gorda flights by stating that
they would have the stranded
passengers home within two weeks.
WHAT?? Allegiant only flies into
Harrisburg on Mondays and Fridays and
has similar schedules to other
northern cities. It seems ridiculous,
but one could see why it would take a
couple of weeks to get everybody to
their destinations.
Contingency plans had to be
made, since Joan was scheduled to work
on Tuesday and an important (aren't
they all?) Womens' Club board meeting
would be held Wednesday. Could we get
her on a later flight from Tampa, at a
huge expense? Perhaps, she could get
to Harrisburg, but the friend who was
picking her up might not be able to
get out of Lancaster. A taxi to a
hotel in Harrisburg with his pickup
the next morning? Should I remain in
Clearwater, get a hotel, and recapture
her once her flight was canceled? How
about a flight to Newark and a train
through Philly to Lancaster. All these
options and several others were
explored on the anxious 2.5 hour drive
to Clearwater and over lunch after
checking in at the Allegiant counter,
where no mention was made of the storm
pounding Pennsylvania and closing the
Harrisburg airport.
It was almost impossible to
believe, and I doubted it even an hour
south of Clearwater on my return trip
to St. James City, when Joan told me
that passengers had begun to board the
plane. I never heard another thing
until our friend called us from home
saying that they had arrived home
safely in Lancaster. Eight inches of
snow that started as sleet, a closed
airport, and an airline not noted for
pushing the envelope. Who could have
guessed that she left Clearwater and
arrived exactly on schedule in
Harrisburg. One just has to be lucky,
I guess.
February will involve more
fishing, much more golf, a long drive
to Key West where my brother has never
visited, and additional exciting,
spontaneous events. I'll attempt to
keep you informed about the
highlights.
February
7, 2014
There are a couple of past
fishing trips worth mentioning this
morning as I grope for things of
interest to share with the hordes of
readers awaiting my every word. At
least I know Schim is awaiting my
words, especially the ones where I
invite him to come for a visit.
Okay, I'll risk it; come on down,
Schim, there is more excitement on
Pine Island than I can handle
myself. Oh, and forget the collared
shirts, creased shorts, linen pants,
and the other stylish garb that is
always crammed into your travel
trunk. A pair of shorts, a few tee
shirts (go buy a couple), and a pair
of jeans will make you St. James
smart.
About those fishing trips:
Joan went on one fishing excursion
while she was here. I think she
rather enjoyed and surprised
herself. Armed with a bird book,
binoculars, sunscreen, and a
stylish, coral-hued, golf cap of
mine that shielded her ears from the
tropical sun, she lounged in the
rays and enjoyed the water view of
houses and mangroves. She took a
couple photos of the fish we caught,
but there were only a few to snap.
These waters are simply full of
fish, but Joan managed to stop them
from biting in our worst fishing
trip of the winter. Perhaps, they
were awed by her beauty, but they
simply would not bite. It made for a
much shorter excursion and that may
just be why my wife enjoyed it so
much. She was thrilled upon our
return, however, when my brother
started throwing the remaining
shrimp to the neighborhood birds.
Pelicans, big, beautiful, and rather
rare wood storks, a great blue
heron, egrets, ibis, and a multitude
of sea gulls came within a few feet
of her as she photographed the daily
feeding frenzy. She has shared a
couple of those photos on the
website.
The other trip to report was
the trip we took with my brother's
friend, Don, who first acquainted us
about Pine Island last winter when
my brother and Larry visited on a
quick, fishing weekend. Don and his
wife, Becky, who now live in
Rehoboth Beach, DE, have been
snowbirding in St. James City for
about 10 years and simply love the
laid back lifestyle that the place
offers. Don knows the waters around
Ft. Myers Bay very well and that is
extremely important with the many
shallows that ground many an
unsuspecting sailor. Don also
possesses the latest electronic map
of the area, showing water depths, a
depth finder, and a GPS that make
navigating these waters a breeze. My
brother has been flying blind
through these waters with only a
depth finder and a GPS. With a new
150-horse Evinrude on the back of
his 20.5 ft. Wellcraft, John has
been very tentative and careful
about where we fish, not that I
blame him. Don had no such
limitations and we fished many of
Don's favorite hotspots. Like Joan,
and assisted by the low tide
notorious for stopping the bite, Don
also managed to halt the success we
have been experiencing on the water.
He did reprise an incident
like I reported on my fishing trip
in La Paz, Mexico, a couple of years
back where my 18-year-old captain
abused a cormorant that kept diving
and eating the baitfish attached to
our lines. Not that Don beat the
cormorant, mind you; he has mastered
a much more sophisticated defense
system against the wily critters.
Don keeps a professional slingshot
and large shotgun pellets at the
ready when cormorants visit his
18-foot Boston Whaler at sea. Sure
enough, our baits were sought by the
feathered, diving marvels, but Don
was prepared. He fired a couple of
shots at our unwelcome visitors and,
though he closely missed, they got
the message. Don recounted that the
birds recognize the boat after a few
shots and steer clear. He was right,
they stopped bothering us, but
nevertheless, Don and John caught
very few fish. I, on the other hand,
was completely shut out. They caught
a handful of small trout and even
more spot, a small baitfish. I
generally measure fish before I hook
them and, of course, didn't want to
catch such small specimens. Perhaps,
John and I will do better today.
Becky has invited us to happy hour
and dinner this afternoon, at 3:30 -
an early repast on the normal,
relaxed, St. James schedule.
Yesterday, John and I went
exploring and visited South Fenway,
the Boston Red Sox spring training
site. We got inside the gorgeous,
new stadium through an unclosed gate
and marveled at the green monster
copied from the old park in Boston.
The diamond and outfield grass were
pristine! We also visited the
nearby, much-older Minnesota Twins
training site, but didn't feel like
climbing the stairs required to see
inside the park. When the Phillies
visit Ft. Myers to play in the
beginning of March, I hope to see a
couple games, though the stadia are
almost an hour away by car. Of
course, anything is almost an hour
by car from the southern tip of Pine
Island. Hasta luego!
February
10, 2014
The
score is now: Harry-2, Jack
Crevalle-0. I hooked up and
landed another fighting Jack
while at the end of a trolling
run as we exited the canal/river
system and were about to enter
the open waters of the bay. This
Jack was about half the size of
the other, about five pounds,
but still plenty full of fight.
John netted the pretty creature
for me and I returned it to the
water, since the overwhelming
opinion is that these creatures
are not fit to eat. The first
Jack still rests in the freezer,
awaiting our attempt to taste
the thing.
Yesterday, I revisited
Punta Gorda to meet up with a
friend and his wife and her
friend, a former superintendent
of schools, from Delaware. I
knew Mike in high school, though
he was a couple of years my
senior, and worked with him in
my career in education. We
reminisced about a few things,
but talked mostly about travel.
The other superintendent is a
world traveler, traveling often
with university tour groups, a
style of travel far different
than my own, go-it-alone,
meanderings.
Dinner with Don and his
wife, Becky, was a wonderful
affair with pork steaks, candied
sweet potatoes, ratatouille, and
Key Lime pie for dessert. We
dined on their screened-in
porch, watching the boat traffic
chug through the busy canal, and
chatted and teased one another
until it was time to head off to
bed. Prior to dinner, however,
we observed a wonderful
demonstration of SW Florida
fishing expertise. Don was
sitting on his dock, casting a
shrimp-covered lead-head under
his neighbor's dock. He caught a
mangrove snapper and one keeper
sheepshead on almost every cast
under the dock. A friend of his,
who stayed to enjoy a cocktail
before heading for a dinner
engagement of his own, removed
the fish from the hook and took
the keepers into the boat shed
for cleaning. The local flair
was enhanced by the friend when
pelicans frequently dove for the
fish that was being caught. He
used a garden hose to defend the
catch, aggressively spraying
each intruding pelican until
they retreated and the fish
could be landed. A real
southwest Florida sub-nuclear,
defense system and one my
brother and I thoroughly
enjoyed. I made sure that the
pelicans, wood storks, egrets,
and ibis fed royally on the
off-fall of the fish generated
during the cleaning process;
they appeared famished.
When I send off this
up-date, I will finish packing
my backpack, take the golf clubs
out of my trunk, and head off
with my brother on his first
trip to Key West. It will be
probably be a relief for you to
know that I will be silent for
the next three days. Don't go
too far away, however. Schim has
confirmed his arrival at the end
of the week, so activities are
sure to pick up. Chow.
February
12, 2014
You won't
find a description of our trip to
Key West in any travel publication
or website and I wouldn't
recommend any of you repeat our
experience, but my brother, whose
positive reflections are few and
far between, exclaimed when I
offered that we had done a lot of
driving, "yeah, but we saw a lot
of things!" We left Monday morning
after a great breakfast at "Mel's
Diner." No, we never saw Flo or
Mel, but the huge place was packed
and the food and service were
commendable. I may have to drive
the 15 miles to that famous
establishment again one of these
mornings.
It was
about 9:30 when we pulled out of
Mel's parking lot, headed south on
interstate 75 until we reached
Naples where we picked up route
41, a two-lane highway that passes
through the Big Cypress Preserve,
a portion of the Everglades,
before reaching Miami. We skirted
the outskirts west of Miami,
passing through a major
agricultural area and Homestead,
where Hurricane Andrew caused
horrendous damage a few years ago,
before crossing into the Keys.
John was impressed with the
turquoise water, bridges, boat
dealers and marinas that we passed
on the 150 mile-long highway and
we reached Key West around 5:00
p.m. There was much street
construction and the three or four
hotels that greeted as you crossed
the bridge into the "Conch
Republic" were in the process of
being demolished. Not an
auspicious welcome, but I
continued to Duval Street and
pulled into the parking lot for
Mallory Square, the site of the
famous sunset celebration.
With more
than an hour before sundown, I
suggested we look for a hotel room
prior to experiencing the Mallory
Square phenomenon and John
concurred. We drove to an area
near the southernmost point in the
USA, where I had stayed in a
small, clean, Mom and Pop motel on
another trip. Oops, there was a
handwritten, "No Vacancy" sign
posted on the office door. Not to
fear, there are plenty of small
hotels and bed and breakfasts in
Key West, but I proceeded to find
the same reception at the next
four I tried. I finally found a
room nearby, but only for one
night and for $239, before taxes.
Thinking we would stay two nights,
I declined that room and headed to
other hotels to secure sleeping
quarters. I drove down (or up)
Duval Street one more time and
headed to the area at the entrance
to the Key where I knew many, less
expensive hotels could be found.
Oops, that's right, those were the
ones being demolished. I had
passed a Marriott on the way out
and decided to try there when John
suggested that we could head back
toward the mainland and get a head
start on tomorrow. He is still not
confident walking with his second
knee replacement only three months
old and didn't really want to walk
the streets he had seen.
Apparently, he didn't need to see
Mallory Square, either, because he
was content to head back.
I figured
that we could find a hotel on the
way through the smaller Keys, so I
agreed, although John had never
actually set foot on Key West. He
opined that he'd been there and he
could cross it off his "bucket
list." To each his own. I was
wrong about finding a hotel on the
way back and after checking twice
along the way and seeing "No
Vacancy" signs posted in front of
dozens more resorts and hotels, we
stopped at 8:00 p.m. for dinner at
the "Islamorada Fish Market" where
I had dined before. Had we not
stopped then, it would have become
far too late for us to dine, so we
grabbed a bite and got back on the
road. We reached the mainland
around 10:00 p.m., and found a
room at a Fairway Inn for $100,
including tax. The long, long trip
from Pine Island through Miami to
Key West and back to the mainland
had consumed 12 hours, including a
short break for dinner. I was
exhausted and John fell asleep
within three minutes of hitting
the sack. Remember, I told you I
would not recommend this trip to
others!
Awakening
late the next morning, we started
home (to St. James City), but
stopped for breakfast at La
Carreta, a Cuban chain restaurant
that had many cars parked outside.
We had a super breakfast,
including cafe con leche, Cuban
toast, and freshly squeezed orange
juice served by the most friendly,
attentive waitress we have met on
the trip. Of obvious Cuban
descent, she explained the La
Carreta means "the little cart,"
referring to the horse-drawn carts
that served meals in her native
land. While dining, I mentioned to
John that being this close to
Miami (30 minutes northwest of
Miami Beach) it was a shame he
didn't get to see South Beach and
Calle Ocho and I inquired if he
was interested in going back for
the experience. He eagerly
responded, yes, since he had never
seen South Beach and we headed
back to the big city. He enjoyed
the drive on Ocean Drive, the
art-deco hotels, and the shops on
Collins Ave., although we never
left the car. I guess you could
say he had an auto tour.
I plugged
Calle Ocho into my GPS and we left
South Beach headed for Little
Havana. Calle Ocho (Eighth Street)
is the site and name of a huge
festival that my wife and I have
visited before and one of my
favorite restaurants in the world
was the destination. It took two
passes on Calle Ocho for me to
recognize the place, "Versailles,"
and the lunch crowd had begun to
arrive. Finding parking was a
problem until we found the
overflow parking lot and wandered
across the street. Warmly greeted
and escorted to a table for two
beside one of the large etched
mirrors that so beautifully
decorate the interior of the
place, we perused the extensive
Cuban menu. I opted for ceviche,
one of my favorite Latin
appetizers, along with one of the
specials of the day, Imperial
Rice. It was delicious and a meal
I will attempt to replicate at
home. Suffice it to say, it was
too much to eat, but the doggie
bag with the remainder awaits me
in the refrigerator since John had
thought to pack a cooler for the
trip.
John
ordered a vanilla milkshake, one
of the best he has ever consumed,
a bowl of Cuban black bean soup,
and a Cuban sandwich. The two
waitresses who served us were
attentive, friendly, and
attractive. By the time we left,
close to 2:00 p.m. the place was
packed and many customers were
still entering. We passed another
four men in business suits heading
that way as we crossed into the
parking lot. It was a fantastic
lunch experience and we would both
return in a minute, but only if I
didn't have to drive to Key West
and back to get there.
We headed
home on route 75, a much faster
trip through the Everglades than
the way we took to head south and,
though we held our breath (only 15
miles range left in the tank)
until we found a gas station to
refill in Naples, we reached home
safely around 5:00 p.m. We nuked
the fried chicken John had packed
in the cooler for the trip and
enjoyed dinner and a drink to
toast our arrival.
This
morning, John is out lashing the
waters in the canal and catching
small (so far) mangrove snappers.
He came in to tell me that a
porpoise startled him swimming
almost under his feet, so I
stopped writing and walked out to
see if I could see the creature.
Sure enough, as I stood advising
John about where he should cast,
his friend returned swimming right
beneath us. John has described his
shock on a previous visit by the
porpoise and it is amazing to have
so much wildlife so near your back
door. All of this and 80 degree
temperatures while central
Pennsylvania braces for another 8
- 12 inches of snow. It doesn't
seem right!!
February
17, 2014
Schim pulled up in his
humongous, black Chrysler 300,
looking for all the world like
the local mortician. Neighbors
came to their doors to see from
which mobile home the body would
be removed. No, it was Schim and
he emerged in his long-sleeved,
lightly starched, yellow and
blue striped, dress shirt and a
brand new pair of stiff blue
jeans. Oh, the boys at "The
Ragged Ass Saloon" are going to
love his style. From the trunk
of the "hearse" he pulled a full
backpack and the largest
suitcase ever put on wheels. He
was ready for all Pine Island
had to offer.
We sat and reminisced and
John got acquainted with our new
visitor, who kept insisting that
he was my travel buddy. After
driving to the northernmost tip
of the island at Bokeelia and
finding Cap'n Con's with a
waiting list of prospective
diners (go figure, sometimes
there are only a handful of
customers in the place), we
drove back to Matlacha and found
seats at the bar in Micelli's
Italian Restaurant. Everyone
seemed to find the meal (and the
prices) reasonable, but I
continue to find the place
somewhat lacking, except with
their friendly waitstaff and
11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m. happy
hours.
Before Schim's arrival, I
played my second round of golf,
this time at Coral Oaks, a
course owned by the local
municipality and in far better
shape than the course on Pine
Island. A trifle more expensive,
but the manager/pro gave me a
resident rate based on my long
term rental. Greens fee and cart
were $65. I played with a
retiree from Kentucky who owns a
house in Cape Coral and visits
often because his son now lives
here. We were joined by two
locals, one a school
photographer who hasn't missed
many meals and a local
government employee, a navy
veteran from the Viet Nam war
era. I played the back nine
pretty well after hacking up the
front, which included a nine on
a par four. When the round
ended, I forgot to ask Mike, the
Kentuckian who was keeping score
what I actually shot. I imagine
I was in the 90's again, but the
game is coming along. When Schim
ends his visit, I'll get in a
few more rounds to get my game
ready for the return home. For a
change, I should have an
advantage over the members of my
golfing group who may have had a
little difficulty getting on the
course this winter because of
the bad weather.
Yesterday, though it
seems so much longer since Schim
arrived, we went fishing in Pine
Island Sound. As we trolled out
through the mangroves, I gave
Schim detailed instructions
about trolling, casting, setting
hooks, bait usage, etc. To
his credit, he paid very close
attention. He demonstrated a
complete lack of respect once we
got on the open water, however,
by out-fishing me by a rate
close to two to one. I'm not
really certain of the numbers
because I simply enjoy being on
the water and don't need to make
the process a competitive one.
John and Schim, however, loudly
counted every fish that landed
in the bottom of the vessel and
I'm not certain how accurately
either of them can count. There
were many fish to count, though.
We ran into Don on the water and
he led us through the narrows
and flats, with which he is very
familiar, to great fishing
grounds on grass flats behind
Chino Island that produced 15
sea trout between 12 and 15
inches long, one in excess of
the minimum 15 inch limit. We
also picked up several
sheepshead, one a keeper, and a
decent ladyfish, kept to be cut
up for bait, but used by John to
feed his friends, the pelicans,
egrets, and ibis on the dock.
Today, we enjoyed
breakfast at Mel's Diner and
spent the morning touring Fort
Myers, observing the Thomas
Edison winter home on another
drive-by, before stopping at an
Ace Hardware and picking up some
teak oil, which Schim and I will
use to oil the teak on John's
boat. John thinks it a waste of
time because the wood will fade
again. Schim and I think he
should re-oil a little more
frequently because the trim is
starting to look like driftwood.
If the chore is not too tedious,
there is really little wood on
the boat, maybe we can give it a
second coat. There will, no
doubt, be more exciting
activities to report in the next
few days, so stay tuned,
although I don't know what else
you can do since another storm
is heading your way. Chow!
February
20,
2014
Schim is gone! I washed the
windows on his hearse to
facilitate his departure,
willing to do whatever it took
to speed his exodus. Well, not
really. I did wash his windows,
because I hate dirty windows on
a car obstructing my view and
thought he might better enjoy
the ride to Orlando if he could
see. We had a great time during
his visit, fishing, fishing,
eating, and watching him focus
on his electronic equipment -
Chrome, smart phone, electric
toothbrush, etc. On the few
occasions when he wasn't
scrutinizing a screen or
napping, John and I engaged him
in conversation. Schim was
mostly concerned about where he
and I were going to winter next
year. He suggested Viet Nam,
Thailand, Taiwan, and/or Hong
Kong and I went more for Madrid,
Rome, and Sicily with a
wonderful train ride, perhaps,
to connect the three. He doesn't
really care, just so he can go
along. He apparently has
insecurities about traveling
alone and I can understand that,
considering that the Schimster
is a real people person. I
suggested that, perhaps, he
could go to Viet Nam and I would
go to Sicily, but he didn't
appear excited about that
option.
We ate at a few,
inexpensive, local restaurants
during his visit and I prepared
one evening meal of chicken
meringue, jasmine rice, and
ratatouille, made from fresh,
local vegetables: tomatoes,
zucchini, green peppers, onion,
and acorn squash. I thought it
was delicious and went well with
the Lindeman Cabernet consumed
with the repast. Schim even went
back for seconds.
While I prepared dinner
that night, Schim oiled the teak
on John's boat. It probably
hadn't been done for eight or
ten years and the wood sucked up
the teak oil. After Schim's
departure and once I recovered
from the melancholy caused by
his absence, I put a second coat
on the vessel. The boat is
almost 30 years old, has a few
knocks and scrapes, but the teak
is now shiny and oiled. Here's
hoping John keeps it that way.
Today, John and I are
headed for Thomas Edison's
winter home and museum in Fort
Myers. Schim and I found the
place on an exploratory trip
early during his visit, but
Schim was satisfied with a
drive-by and John and I would
like to see the place. I'll let
you know if we consider the
visit worthwhile.
February
26, 2014
Fort
Myers is a city not known,
according to the Schimster,
for its beauty. The downtown
area is a pretty generic urban
setting, but it is obvious
that a revitalization effort
is underway from the
accumulation of quaint eating
establishments sporting al
fresco dining areas that seem
to beckon in the four or five
blocks that have gotten a head
start on the renewal process.
On an exploratory ride one
day, Schim and I passed
through the downtown and along
McGregor Avenue to locate the
Thomas Edison & Henry Ford
Winter Estate and Museum. As
we passed their estates, as
close as Schim will ever come
to a museum setting, he
commented that McGregor must
be the prettiest street in the
city and I think he was right.
A line of massive, majestic
palm trees guarded the entire
length of the street like a
troop of soldiers at
attention. There, at the
beginning of the long street
beside the banks of the broad
Caloosahatchee River were the
adjacent winter estates of
Ford and Edison in what must
be one of the most beautiful
settings in Florida. Who knew
they were such close friends,
often wintered together, and
that Ford was a former Edison
employee? Not I, and certainly
not Schim who only gave the
place a passing glance.
John and I returned to
the place and purchased a
ticket to tour the lovely
place. It will kill the folks
in the north who are facing
another week of frigid
temperatures, but we toured
the restored homes, admired
the fantastic settings and
gardens but, because of the
increasing afternoon heat and
the tiring of John's new
artificial knee, we cut the
tour short before visiting the
museum and workshop. Perhaps,
we will return to that nearby,
lovely location one day to
finish the tour. A cool
beverage and a light dinner
enabled us to fully recover
from the overheating.
Over the weekend
another fishing trip yielded
only two fish, a very unusual
turn of events, but we only
spent a couple of hours on the
water as high tide approached.
The one fish I landed,
however, was the largest trout
of the winter, a 17-inch
female specimen whose girth
dwarfed the 13-15 inch
creatures we have been
catching. It was worth the
effort just to land that fish,
hooked on a fluorescent-green,
lead head with a sluggo tail
of the same color.
The past couple of days
I have been suffering with a
self-diagnosed recurrence of
labyrinthitis (inner ear
infection) that laid me low a
year and a half ago. Short
term acute dizziness that
makes the room spin when I
turn or lower my head and
severe loss of equilibrium
have been limiting my
activities and the updates
with which I would probably
have bored you. An
accompanying neck and shoulder
pain made me think it might be
a pinched neck nerve and a
trip to a chiropractor,
selected from the many on the
internet seemed to verify my
diagnosis. He thought it could
be nerve related and treated
me accordingly which yielded a
miserable day after with
stiffness and a nasty ache I
could barely endure. I googled
massage therapy on the
internet and had my brother
drive me, since I didn't trust
that the dizziness could
appear while I was behind the
wheel, to the highly skilled
therapist who made me feel
significantly better. I took a
few ibuprofen last night and
today seem somewhat better
with only a deep, dull ache in
my right shoulder. I am well
enough, at least, to have
prepared this update. Here's
hoping tomorrow will bring a
full recovery. I'll let you
know.
March
3, 2014
Each year of my travel
blog these days seems to
include a medical episode
and this year's blog is no
exception. See root canal
in Spain, flu and
dehydration in Spain
continuing in South
Africa, dog bite by rabid,
street dog in Baja Sur,
Mexico, and last year's
crippling, sciatic
inflammation in
Portugal. Now a
recurrence of
labyrinthitis, an inner
ear affliction, has laid
me low for about a week.
Though I am not dizzy all
day long, when the vertigo
hits it is debilitating. I
tried a chiropractor last
Monday because a stiff
neck and deeply aching
shoulder also accompanied
the dizziness. The
chiropractor verified that
I was misaligned (duh) and
made an attempt to
straighten my neck, a
process that kept me in
worse pain for two more
days. The masseuse,
however, whom I selected
from a yahoo list, gave me
some relief, although she
had to stop her
ministrations several
times because of waves of
dizziness that occurred
when she moved my head.
That is
not the whole medical
episode. Oh, no!
When the vertigo
continued, my brother
suggested I see a real
doctor in case this was
something more serious
than the labyrinthitis
diagnosed by a Lancaster
otolaryngologist 18 months
ago, despite the fact that
the symptoms were
remarkably similar. After
much internet searching
and many phone calls, I
finally came up with a
general practitioner who
could see me on Friday
afternoon. John drove me
there because I was a tad
concerned that the vertigo
would kick in while I was
behind the wheel. Just as
we exited Pine Island into
Cape Coral, my phone rang
and the doctor's assistant
informed me that the
doctor felt that because
it was Friday afternoon
and my symptoms required
tests from which she
couldn't get results until
the following week, that I
should go directly past GO
and head to an emergency
room where results could
be produced forthwith. The
assistant referred me to
Lee County Hospital which
was closest to our current
location.
Surprise, the emergency
room was packed! There
were, however, five ER
doctors on duty and the
entire staff, including
the welcoming volunteers,
was caring, warm, and
friendly. I was
immediately placed in a
wheelchair, something
about not wanting blood on
the floor after my fall,
and the service was
remarkably efficient. Yes,
I spent 2.5 hours there,
but I had a blood work-up,
a chest X-ray, an EKG, a
checkup by a handsome,
young doctor, who
diagnosed my malady, once
the test results were
returned, as "Benign
Positional Vertigo."
Pretty much the
labyrinthitis that the
Lancaster otolaryngologist
had diagnosed 18 months
ago, although the doctor
mentioned that, since he
can't see into the
labyrinth of my ears, he
didn't want to call it
that, although that was
certainly a possibility.
He prescribed "meclizine"
after giving me one to
gauge its effect while I
rested on the gurney in my
cubicle. Since I showed no
ill effects of the
medication and actually
felt a little better, he
sent me on my way. Another
medical episode ended, but
the symptoms persist.
Perhaps, it will take a
little time, especially
since I've weaned myself
off the meclizine which
seemed to be doing no
apparent good. I'll keep
you informed about my
recovery, if and when that
may occur. Chow!
March
6, 2014
It's amazing that when one
is healthy, one never
notices his neck. But, when
one's neck gets stiff and
sore, extending into a deep,
cramp-feeling pain at the
back of one's shoulder, one
can think of nothing else.
It doesn't help that when
one moves his head the world
spins like he drank a full
bottle of Crown Royal. And
that, ladies and gentlemen,
is what I have been
experiencing for the past
week or so. I had a late
night email last night from
my neighbor, Dr. Jon, a
retired urologist, inquiring
about my vertigo, an
affliction he characterized
as horrendous. I responded,
having been awakened with
the stiff neck and shoulder
and continued dizziness,
agreeing with his
description and thanking him
for his concern. But, when I
awakened in the morning, the
dizziness was gone and the
neck and shoulder pain had
considerably subsided. I
immediately wrote him,
thanking him for his long
distance curative powers. I
have heard many positive
comments about his bedside
manner, but his medical
impact from 1,000 miles
distant had gone unreported
until now. And, benign
positional vertigo does not
even fall into his area of
expertise. Nothing beats
having a great neighbor!
We are currently
under a tornado watch that
will extend until 7:00 p.m.
Just the thought of what a
tornado would do to this old
mobile home (trailer) is
enough to drive me to start
pre-planning my funeral. The
closest solid building, a
concrete block structure
that houses a community
center, is several blocks
distant and the drive, even
in the teeth of the forecast
70 mph straight-line winds
would be a challenge. Lord
help us if the storm starts
spinning. Actually, a few
minutes have passed since I
wrote the last sentence due
to a pause to watch the
wind-whipped rain and wind
make my brother's boat sway
fore and aft on our boat
lift. That appears to be the
extent of today's
entertainment, because the
worst of the storm has
passed, according to the
local TV weathermen. They do
say an isolated tornado will
still be possible until
7:00, though. Here's hoping
one doesn't isolate over St.
James City.
I dined alone last
evening at the best Italian
Restaurant I have found in
SW Florida. Fabio's was like
many trattorias I have
frequented in Italy,
complete with the
82-year-old proprietor and
his wife both of whom
visited my table. I didn't
take notes about my meal, so
I can't even report the name
of the dish, one of the
evening's specials, but it
was chicken and sweet
Italian sausage in a white
wine, garlic, and sherry
sauce, served over penne.
It, and the fresh clam soup
that preceded it, knocked my
socks off. My brother was
experiencing the beginnings
of a cold, so he stayed home
in bed. I know we are
starting to sound like a
hospital ward, but he is
also feeling much better
today and enjoying the fury
of Mother Nature's attack on
our peace and quiet.
Tomorrow, we will
meet my eldest son at the SW
Florida International
Airport in Fort Myers at
11:00 a.m. He and I plan to
play some golf and he looks
forward to catching many
fish on his uncle's boat. He
has also purchased tickets
for the three of us to
attend a Twins - Phillies
spring training game on
Sunday afternoon. The
weather for his long weekend
visit is forecast to be
perfect, so he'll get a
welcome respite from the
ugly northern winter. I'll
keep you informed about any
interesting activities that
may arise. Ciao!!
March
11, 2014
The visit of my eldest
son, Gary, has ended
after a long weekend
that included fishing,
golf, a spring training
game, a tour of Pine
Island, and great
dining. The three of us
had a wonderful time
together and enjoyed the
visit immensely. Friday
was spent touring the
island and acquainting
Gary with our plush
mobile abode. Unlike my
wife, who felt the place
a tad primitive, my son
thought the small
trailer was a perfect
environment for two
seniors to spend the
winter. Later, after
another of our 20 mile
drives for dinner, he
would recognize the
remote nature of our
location.
Saturday was
fishing day and we spent
far longer on the water
than planned. Our time
was extended attempting
to catch more fish on a
day whose weather was
perfect after a chilly
start, because the cold
front that brought the
tornado warning also
dropped temperatures and
diminished the fish
bite. Gary thought the
fishing was fine, but we
felt badly that we
weren't catching the
numbers to which we had
become accustomed.
The low humidity that
increased the sun's
intensity, the foolish
choice to forego
sunscreen, and the
extended time on the
water turned my hide
lobster red and
blistered my lips. After
as many days in the sun
as I have spent this
winter, I was certain
that I was fine without
the sun screen. My
compatriots used
sunscreen and protective
lip balm. I fried! My
lips are still sore.
Sunday was spent
at the
Phillies-Minnesota Twins
game in Fort Myers.
Another perfect day and
great seats, purchased
for us by Gary, gave us
shady perches to observe
another Phillies
disappointment. The game
ended in a tie, but the
Phillies only managed
two scratch singles in
nine innings. A record
crowd was at the game
evenly split, it
appeared, between Twins
and Phillies fans.
Hammond Stadium, spring
training home of the
Twins and summer home of
their affiliate
Miracles, was recently
renovated and was
beautiful. My brother
commented that it was
the most beautiful
ballpark he had ever
seen. After the game,
John decided he wanted
to stay home and consume
leftovers for dinner, so
Gary and I dropped him
off and headed for Reds,
one of the best
restaurants on Pine
Island. We drove back
nine miles and enjoyed a
great meal: a dozen
delicious, local raw
oysters started the meal
and Gary enjoyed a local
fish called Triple Tail
which he loved. I had
fish tacos that I
thought were the best of
the winter.
Monday, Gary and
I arose early and played
18 holes at Cape Coral
Golf Course. We both
shot lower than our
ages, provided I live 30
more years and Gary 50.
Don't bother with the
math; neither of us
broke 100. We were
horrible. We played with
a couple of interesting,
retired Detroit police
officers, though, the
weather was perfect
again, and we had a
great time, despite our
golfing inadequacies.
All in all a great
weekend. Gary showered,
packed, and took off
from the Ft. Myers
Airport, arriving home
near Philadelphia around
10:00 p.m. I stopped
after dropping him off
and enjoyed a great
Spanish (Spain) dinner
at a restaurant near the
airport that Gary had
located on Yelp while we
traveled to the airport.
Only two other diners
were at the bar, the
tables were
packed, but my bar
mates turned out to be
Boston Red Sox sports
writers who had just
returned from a Red Sox
away trip. The
conversation, the
outstanding meal
starting with a sauteed
calamari appetizer, then
paella valenciana, and
wonderfully attentive
waiters made for a great
end to the
weekend. Ciao!
March
14, 2014
A medical update is
overdue, no doubt,
considering the
medical challenges
my brother and I
have faced this
winter. This type of
update is often
times called an
organ recital where
old folks share one
of the many maladies
that accompany
advancing years:
While Gary
and I played golf
last Monday, John
drove to the same
emergency room I had
previously visited
with my vertigo
problem. John's
problem turned out,
after chest X-ray,
blood tests, and
whatever other tests
they performed, to
be a viral
bronchitis that had
him coughing
frequently and
painfully for a few
days before the
hospital visit. Gary
and I encouraged a
medical visit and,
when one has no
family doctor at
hand, the hospital
seemed the best
choice. He was
prescribed
antibiotics,
steroids, and an
inhaler, and spent
the past few days
closely following
the doctor's advice.
I am pleased to
report that he is
vastly improved and
the frequency and
the duration of his
coughing has been
greatly reduced. I
only heard him cough
one time during the
night last night
through the
paper-thin walls of
our trailer home.
His energy has
returned
sufficiently that he
washed and WAXED his
pickup truck under
the carport
yesterday. The truck
looks great!
I am also
somewhat improved.
The vertigo has
generally
dissipated, although
a strange feeling
persists inside my
cranial cavities
when my head changes
position. It was
apparently the
labyrinthitis that
was diagnosed by the
Lee County ER doctor
and the
otolaryngologist at
home 18 months ago,
but it is a
frightening
affliction. More
persistent has been
the stiff neck and
painful shoulder
that may have caused
the problem. The
symptoms interrupted
my sleep every night
for two weeks and
required three
visits to a
chiropractor and one
great, deep tissue
massage from a
topless masseuse
that really perked
me up. Just checking
to see if you are
reading. Nah, at the
time I would have
been too dizzy to
appreciate a topless
masseuse, and the
portly, muscular
Candace would
definitely not have
evoked any interest.
She gave a great
massage, however,
stretching my neck
with a towel and
finding every sore
muscle in my body.
When the next visit
to the chiropractor
also produced a
therapeutically-stretched
neck that yielded a
little relief, I got
a brainstorm and
purchased a soft,
neck brace at the
nearby CVS Pharmacy.
Wearing that the
past two days,
except when I go to
dinner, has provided
marked relief and
improved sleeping
conditions. The
symptoms are not
gone yet, but at
least now there is
hope for a full
recovery. TMI, you
say? I agree, but
Google labyrinthitis
before thinking me a
wuss.
John is now
sitting on the boat,
listening to his
radio, and catching
some rays. I have
been awaiting a
visit from the
plumber promised by
the realtor to
alleviate a clogged
garbage disposal
(that has never
worked) that has
eliminated use of
one of our two
kitchen sinks. He
should also replace
one of our toilet
seats that has
fractured and,
actually, completely
remove the
fiber-glass shower
that has been
leaking on the floor
since we arrived in
January. We are
completely
dissatisfied with
the conditions we
found in the
trailer; conditions
that a little
preventive
maintenance could
have prevented. I
don't know what
options are
available to me at
this time, but I
will pursue a rebate
for the unnecessary
inconveniences we
have had to endure.
You'll remember the
WiFi that was
advertised and
required a
two-week's wait
before being
installed. The
sun-baked Chesapeake
chairs that looked
so good in the
realtor's photo, but
which exploded when
my brother first sat
on one, almost
causing serious
injury to his
recently replaced
knee. The dining
room chairs that
need completely
rebuilt and which I
have glued twice to
have a safe place to
sit. We have had to
replace batteries in
the clock, the smoke
detectors, and the
thermostat, scrubbed
heavy mildew off the
refrigerator door,
and received no
remedy from the
owner, except for
the WiFi that
required hours and
hours of time and
phone calls to have
installed. The
pillows on the other
old porch furniture
required a double
laundering before
any of us would sit
on them and were
also falling apart.
The realtor, stuck
in the middle
between an
unsatisfied, though
very patient and
understanding
tenant, and an
unbelievably frugal
(think cheap) owner
who apparently
refuses to spend any
money to correct
problems. I will
strongly recommend
to the realtor that
they not handle this
property in the
future, though I
imagine that will do
little good.
The good news
is that I have a
dinner date tonight!
No, not with John,
with Irena. Irena is
the 86-year-old (I'm
only guessing)
mother of a fellow
Rotarian whom I met
at a pop-up dinner
fund raiser on our
condo's patio at
home last summer. I
was going to
accompany friends,
Gary and George,
when they visited
and took Irena to
dinner. George has
been ill much of the
winter, so they
never made it south.
I figured Irena
shouldn't have to
pay for George's
maladies, so I
called her yesterday
and arranged to take
her myself. I have
reservations at
Gloria's Little
Trattoria Napoli
where I had such a
great meal the other
night. Here's hoping
she's a little
adventurous in her
dining, since there
are such great
Spanish tapas and
interesting Italian
cuisine in the
little cafe. She is
a delight to be
with, so I'm certain
we will have a good
time. I'll let you
know how my first
date in many years
turns out.
These days, do you
have to kiss them
goodnight on the
first date? Ciao!
March
20, 2014
Yes, I am more
than aware that my
update is several
days overdue. It
strikes me as a
more challenging
task to update
when the days have
become very
routine, so I
procrastinate. It
is time to get the
monkey off my back
and get this
writing assignment
done. It will
reduce my stress
level and may even
calm my sleeping
hours.
The past
few days and
weekend really
were what have
come to be
routine: sunny
skies, temps in
the 70's and 80's,
except for the day
we experienced a
tornado watch and
waited all day for
the violent
thunderstorms
which fell mostly
to our north. We
had a few hours of
rain one evening
but, as usual, the
TV meteorologists
made much ado
about nothing. It
was probably good
to warn folks in
imminent danger
but, like the snow
storms that have
punished the
mid-Atlantic this
winter, it may
have been less
traumatic to
simply look out
the window to see
the weather.
I have
never been called
frugal, Schim
insists I am a
spendthrift and,
comparatively
speaking, I
imagine that's
true, but on
Friday I stumbled
upon a good reason
to eliminate
frugality from the
remainder of my
path through life.
I do have several
frugal
idiosyncrasies,
namely prices paid
for gasoline,
airfares, my own
cash from an ATM,
and golf greens
fees. I hate it
when people pay
less than I do for
those commodities
and, with my own
cash withdrawals,
to pay anything at
all. To that end
and with an hour
to waste before
lunch at El Mambo,
a new Cuban
restaurant I
wanted to try
after my
chiropractic
appointment, I
used my GPS to
locate the nearest
gas stations. No
gasoline "buddy,"
the GPS simply
lists the names of
the nearest
stations and their
distance.
Aha! I saw a
Racetrak Station
listed, a brand
that had always
been among the
least expensive in
our area, and only
1.2 miles distant.
That would
probably be better
than the
$3.45/gallon at
the Sunoco
directly across
the street from
the restaurant
where I was
conducting my
research, so I hit
"GO" and followed
instructions to
save big bucks.
"Go one block,
turn left, and
proceed the 1.2
miles to the
station." I did
that and followed
the directions to
the station where
I found the fuel
advertised at
$3.53/gallon.
Oops, I returned
to the Sunoco, but
had to re-cross a
toll bridge where
the $2.00 toll is
collected only on
northbound
vehicles. I
grudgingly paid
the toll while
laughing
internally at my
naîveté. When I
made the left from
the Sunoco, there
was no turn before
I crossed the
beautiful bridge.
Once I returned, I
pumped 14.5
gallons of fuel
into my vehicle at
the Sunoco, saving
$1.16 with my
frugality.
Subtracting that
savings from the
$2.00 toll, my net
savings turned out
to be a loss of 84
cents. What a
waste!! Schim
experiences the
same sort of
economies in food
quality and
restaurant
ambiance with the
restaurants he
selects but, when
the loss is in
cash, it makes me
smile about my
weak attempts to
save a few
pennies.
Two days
ago, John and I
traveled to
Clearwater on a
ride, since he had
never really seen
Brightside Stadium
where the Phillies
take spring
training. That
trip evolved into
a return route
through Clearwater
Beach and down the
coast to St.
Petersburg beach
before returning
to Interstate 75
for the two-hour
trip home. We
blindly stopped
for a late lunch
at Keegan's
Seafood House in
Indian Springs
Beach, where I
dined on a
delicious scallop
ceviche, served in
a martini glass
and a second
appetizer of
grilled octopus
that made the
entire five-hour
round-trip
worthwhile. While
dining and between
courses of oyster
stew and coconut
shrimp, John
observed a large,
autographed photo
of Guy Fieri, star
of "Diners,
Drive-Ins and
Dives," displayed
on the wall. The
waitress confirmed
that our chance
luncheon stop was
featured on his
show. The
appetizers
validated the
restaurant's
worthiness to
appear on national
television. I'd
return there for
lunch in a
heartbeat!
When the
tide provides a
little more water
to navigate
through the
canals, today will
produce another
fishing trip in
search of marine
life. We need to
make a few more
trips in the time
remaining to
reduce the
quantity of fuel
in the boat's tank
before heading
north. No need to
reduce John's mpg
farther by
transporting
gasoline north in
his towed vessel.
I don't know if
the remaining days
will provide any
more exciting
material to
update, but I will
continue to update
nonetheless. Who
knows? Reading the
updates might be
better for you
than going outside
until Spring
decides to visit
the mid-Atlantic
for real. Stay
tuned.
March
24, 2014
The past weekend
produced more
gorgeous
weather, a
solitary trip to
Naples for
Saturday lunch,
and an
unproductive
fishing trip on
the Sabbath. We
have never been
shut-out fishing
but, lately, we
seem to be
fishing at the
wrong time,
tide-wise, to
produce much
success. We have
the tidal
information, but
seem to ignore
it and fish
through the
highest or
lowest tides,
the least
recommended
fishing times.
The cause is
probably that
the water is so
accessible and
only a couple
minutes are
required to get
fishing. A cure
would involve
planning on when
to fish 24 hours
in advance and I
don't see that
happening in the
present state of
laid-back
attitudes
prevalent in our
abode.
The trip
to Naples was a
lengthy affair
down the Tamiami
Trail, route 41,
with a traffic
signal every
half mile. My
arrival in
beautiful Naples
coincided with a
huge, arts and
crafts fair that
closed 5th
Avenue (the Main
Street) for more
than 10 city
blocks. I didn't
take the time to
shop for arts
and crafts, but
drove to the
city's beach
that I had never
seen and
returned to the
end of the fair
where a good
looking Italian
restaurant,
Bice, beckoned
on the corner. I
enjoyed an
endive,
gorgonzola, and
walnut salad and
a tortellini
dish with
parmesan sauce
named for a
famous, Italian,
soccer player of
whom I had never
heard. The
bartender
corrected my
pronunciation of
Chinaglia and
described the
most famous
professional
Italian player
of all time who
had retired to
Naples and dined
there every
evening. As he
approached his
death, he
requested that
Luca, the
general manager
of Bice, name a
dish after him
after he passed
and Luca did him
proud. The
tortellini was
great! The ride
home, using
interstate route
75 was much
faster and
produced a tank
full of $3.53
gasoline only a
mile or two from
my exit in Fort
Myers. I almost
coasted into the
station, the
Volvo running on
fumes. It was
the cheapest
price I had seen
all day and I
had seen prices
of $3.79/gallon
in upscale
Naples. I need
somebody to
explain to me
why gasoline is
$3.79 in Naples,
$3.53 in Ft.
Myers, and only
$3.41 in
Clearwater. I
seriously doubt
that the law of
supply and
demand has
anything to do
with fuel
pricing.
I made
contact with
Elaine, daughter
of Irena, my
date of last
week, and met
her, her
significant
other, her son
from Colorado
and his
girlfriend, at a
restaurant that
they visited on
Pine Island in
the boat they
had rented in
Ft. Myers.
Elaine and I are
in the same
Rotary Club at
home and she
briefed me on
the activities
of the club. I
then met them at
a very nice
seafood
restaurant near
Irena's home
which enabled me
to visit with
Irena again.
Irena invited me
to her home for
dinner with her
grandson and
friend after her
daughter had
left for home,
but I had to
decline because
of a prior
commitment at a
bon voyage party
for John's
friend, Don and
his wife, Becky,
who departed
this morning
(Monday) at 4:00
a.m. I was sure
to warn John
that I would not
be leaving at
4:00 a.m. for
our trip home. I
wanted to clear
his mind of that
notion right up
front.
This
will, no doubt,
be my
penultimate
update since we
will depart next
Tuesday morning
for the long
trek home. Much
time will be
spent this week
packing,
repacking,
cleaning and
readying the
boat for the
trip North and I
do not expect
much newsworthy
material to be
generated. I'm
certain there
will be at least
one more fishing
trip and, if we
pay attention to
the tidal
charts, and make
a significant
catch, I may
update you about
the experience.
Otherwise, I
expect only one
more writing
chore from
Florida.
Ciao!
March
28, 2014
With head on,
the shrimp
were as long
as my
arm!
Well, almost
as long as my
forearm! These
things were
huge, the
largest shrimp
I have ever
seen. We
bought them,
eight or ten
to the pound,
at a
wholesale/retail
fish house
only a
half-mile from
our trailer. I
never looked
for the
decrepit
looking place
before, but
John had
wandered there
on one of his
boredom-relief
drives. They
sold hard and
soft-shelled
crabs, shrimp,
locally raised
clams and
oysters, and
fresh fish at
the shack on
the water. We
bought a bag
of 100,
nice-sized
clams (I hate
tiny cherry
stones), and a
pound and a
half of the
monster shrimp
and took them
home. I was
concerned that
the shrimp may
be alive; they
said they were
flash frozen
on the boat
while on the
Gulf of
Mexico, but
they were
large enough
to be a threat
to our lives
should any
have survived
the sudden
frost. I eyed
them
cautiously
while I
steamed them
and half the
clams in a
broth of
sauvignon
blanc, butter,
garlic, hot
sauce, and
dried basil,
utilizing all
that our small
pantry held.
They were
fantastic!! So
good, in fact,
that we
returned to
the shack two
days later and
bought another
bag of the
dangerous,
decapod
crustaceans.
They didn't
look any less
fierce, but
the threat was
lessened by
the
non-violent
behavior of
their older
brothers in
the last pot.
The second
batch, reusing
the
refrigerated
broth from the
first, was
just as good
and made for
another meal.
That was it:
two meals of
steamed,
steroidal
shrimp dipped
in cocktail
sauce
purchased at
the St. James
General Store,
accompanied by
steamed clams
dipped in
butter,
micro-waved in
cocktail
glasses, and a
slice of bread
for sopping up
the remaining
clarified
butter. They
may have been
the best two
meals of the
whole winter
and I prepared
them with my
own hands.
John, who had
cooked several
previous
meals, denied
knowledge of
the steaming
process,
though I
distinctly
remember him
steaming
shrimp in
years past.
Yesterday
(Thursday), we
removed the
boat from the
water, placing
it on the
trailer whose
wheels John
painted during
the winter. We
are leaving
early Monday
morning, so
that gives
John four full
days to check
mechanical
things for the
trip. He is a
worrier and
frets about
what may
happen on the
way home. He
even suggested
he should buy
an additional
jack in case
the trailer
has a flat on
the journey.
No real worry,
he bought a
brand new
spare tire to
carry along on
the trip to
repair a
potential flat
on the way
down and we
both have
jacks in our
cars. He
refilled the
"zerks" on the
axles with
grease for the
trip home and
has double,
no,
triple-checked
every
lubricant on
his truck and
the trailer. I
checked my oil
level and
washed my
windows.
I hit a
small bucket
of golf balls
today, my
final tune-up
for the first
rounds in the
frozen North.
My golfing
buddies have
scheduled
rounds on
Monday and
Tuesday, so
I'll be a few
shots behind
by the time I
arrive on the
links the
following
week.
Actually, I
hit the balls
quite well,
considering
this was my
first effort
since the neck
and shoulder
pain receded.
This
year's winter
hiatus
produced
almost perfect
weather in
direct
contrast to
the
horrendous,
snowy, frigid
conditions at
home. It was
more difficult
to enjoy those
great
conditions
knowing that
family and
friends were
battling
Mother Nature.
The diversions
of fishing and
golf helped,
as did the
visit of Schim
and my eldest
son, Gary.
Absent,
however, was
the challenge
of adjusting
to a different
culture and
language and I
missed that. I
do not believe
I will be
Florida bound
next winter,
if I am
fortunate
enough to be
able to make
another winter
trip. I need
the challenge
of foreign
travel! Thank
you for
traveling with
me on this
year's trip
which must
have been far
less exciting
than previous
adventures.
I'll do better
next
year.
Ciao!!
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