Wednesday, January 29, 2025
With my out of state fishing license expired, I didn’t go fishing this morning. My chances of being caught by a game warden from the state of Florida were probably slim. But why should I add to the glee of the fish? In my seven days of casting, I’m sure the fish were proud of shutting me out.
Actually, I’m fine with the shutout.
I’m 1,052 driving miles away from Richmond, Virginia. It’s January. It’s winter. It’s cold.
Out the back door of the condo at Tranquility Bay, I can walk less than a hundred steps, and in a blink, I’m casting a line into an isolated bight of the shoreline fed by clear water from the Gulf of Mexico. Those early morning scenes will stay with me forever, and they will push me through the remaining winter when I get back home.
So, I opted to go for a run. When I departed the condo, the temperature was 63 degrees. Back home in Richmond, the thermometer was 33 degrees.
This morning I was running north on the left side facing traffic along the Overseas Highway. I hoped to run to Sombrero Beach.
Lots of traffic on both sides of the highway this morning.
I was clipping along well. I came to the cross walk for a right turn to head toward Sombrero Beach.
With one push of a button, I was able to stop traffic on both sides of the highway. I ran across staying within the lines of the crosswalk.
Safely on the the other side, I was getting ready to cross a side entrance that feeds into the Publix parking lot. A driver in a rush was approaching this crosswalk. I sensed the driver was not going to stop, so I stopped.
When the driver realized I had stopped, she stopped. With a touch of aggravation, I motioned for her to keep moving.
I’m reminded of Rodney Dangerfield—I tell you pedestrians get no respect. I don’t know if this is because drivers don’t know that pedestrians have the right away, or if drivers selfishly don’t care, and they keep moving.
Anyway, I noticed something nice the further my old body moved me away from the highway— it became quiet.
The roar of the wheels on the always burdened asphalt disappeared. I could hear birds chirping and singing. This was a very pleasant contrast to the hustle on the Overseas Highway.
As I moved along Sombrero Beach Road, I gradually came to a well designed public education complex for the middle and high schools in Marathon Keys.
These two campuses were about to come alive with the school day beginning.
At that point, my old body told my brain, we’re not taking Baloney Bill to Sombrero Beach this morning. With that internal memo, I ran just past the school complex. I turned around and headed back toward Tranquility Bay. When I arrived at the condo, I stopped my watch. It read 56:24.
Wednesday was to be a quiet day for us. No sightseeing, just an easy pace.
Later that morning Betsy, Butch, and I walked to the 1.5 mile spot on the Seven Mile Bridge. Lots of people were in motion in both directions. The water no matter where we looked was pretty.
I wish I had brought my binoculars with me to the bridge. Off the right side, we could seen a large sand bar. In the shallows of that bar was a boat with a fisherman on it. I wanted the binoculars to see how he was doing.
For lunch today, we opted to check out Tranquility Bay’s Tiki Bar. This pretty day was perfect for lunch under an umbrella. I enjoyed a delicious Caribbean Salad.
Laziness ruled the afternoon. But at some point, Butch, Dan, and I decided to locate the marina where we would be meeting Captain Chuck for our fishing charter on Thursday morning.
Once off the Overseas Highway, it took us a few minutes to locate the side street where the marina was located.
Eventually, we found this finger like inlet of water. Tucked under a protected roofline that resemble a long shed was a row of silent boats.
Inside of me was a shiver of excitement. I was like a little kid anticipating Thursday morning and our half day fishing charter. Hopefully, the knowledge and skills of Captain Chuck would bring us better luck than I had fishing in the surf.
Before we knew it, we were heading out for dinner.
Tonight, we opted for the Island Fish Company. This sprawling water front restaurant was busy. We waited a bit to be seated, but the restaurant was a good choice.
After dinner, we played another challenging round of charades from the creative mind of Marian. She has a way of pushing our brain cells to be imaginative and inventive.
When charades had worn us down, we had some final chatter about the fishing charter, and there was also the dreaded yapping—preparing to fly back home on Friday.
Sweet fishing dreams.
might be baloney 