Cruising the Other LA (page 3)
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Next morning, Bea Hinely, who owns the marina with her husband,
Ray, lends us a courtesy Jeep so that we can provision at the
supermarket in Niceville. Zack and I shop while Christine
and Juliana hit the pool. Then we head south to Destin
and, three delightful hours later, follow Bea's advice to go
under the 50-foot Destin Bridge at East pass and tuck into a
small bay behind the sand dunes for an abbreviated night.
Under way before sunrise, we tack repeatedly for two hours but
eventually surrender to the diesel because of a persistent easterly.
By late morning, the wind shifts southeast. We are soon
clipping along at 6 knots, topping out at 6.9 with a reef in
the main. I have to pry the wheel from Christine's hands.
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If heaven exists,
this is it. |
augers and scallops. Zack chases crabs in the tide zone
while Juliana builds sandcastles. Christine and I hold
hands and walk the beach, elated by our find.
We hike across the dunes to the emerald sea. Zack says
the sand has acoustical properties because it squeaks beneath
our bare feet. "It's singing sand," he says. The water
is warm and embracing.
We are the only people on the beach, which extends for miles.
We race into the gentle surf. Christine waves her bathing
suit over her head and Juliana does likewise. Father and
son join the fun of being four knuckleheads having a blast on
a desolate beach after a full day of sailing. If heaven
exists, this is it. |
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In five hours, and with only two tacks,
we come upon the high-rise condos and hotels along Panama City Beach.
We can't help wondering if we've made a mistake by leaving Choctawhatchee.
The buildings spread along the coast for several miles, but the development
ends at the outskirts of St. Andrew Bay and the landscape again looks
pristine and natural.
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Christine relaxing on a private beach
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A magnificent sunset of red, orange,
and purple is the backdrop for our dinner of grilled steak, salad, French
bread, and cold Red Stripe beer. A full moon rises over the dunes.
We play cards in the spacious cabin and talk about our day. We
are flying home from Tallahassee, so at some point we must sail to Panama
City and make arrangements for a car rental, but not today or tomorrow. |
We reach the outer approach buoy in 11 hours. It's 1630 and there's still plenty of daylight, so we head for Shell Island, a wildlife preserve and uninhabited barrier dune, where we will spend three days. Avoiding the shoals, we sail toward Spanish Shanty Point, a clump of trees on the dunescape. We monitor the depthsounder and watch for color changes in the emerald water, the sand bottom visible in shoal areas.
Anchoring in shoal water takes some thought. If you're too close to the shoal and wind and tide turn the boat, the stern will run aground - as we learn.The kids are psyched to row to the island. The beach is obviously deserted, and they're eager to hunt for shells. Within an hour they are clutching fistfuls of sand dollars, whelks, |
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It is difficult to leave a place after dancing with crabs and
swimming with dolphins. We go daysailing and comb the
beach, knowing our time here is growing shorter. Luckily,
we meet George and Carolyn Butchikas of Panama City, who have
come to Shell Island by runabout to share the sunset.
Carolyn offers her cell phone so that I can make car-rental
and marina reservations without leaving the island. Her
unhesitating helpfulness is common here and precisely what makes
sailing along this coast so special.
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