Know Your Liveaboard Neighbors By Ginny Jones
It’s New Year’s Day. Mike, my neighbor who is known as “Captain Sea Tow Mike,” is working today. It’s his normal day off, and—as often occurs—something awful is happening to a local sailboat out on the reef, and Mike won’t ignore his radio— especially when he knows his boss with Sea Tow could really use the help. It just so happens, the typical Keys’ weather has just taken a turn for the worst; a large and windy cold front hit us late this afternoon and has steadily picked up the pace. Mala, his wife, has her VHF radio on, and we are hearing what’s happening as the drama plays out.
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46-foot, chartered sailboat was steadily being pushed up on the small patch reef about three miles from shore. Mike asked what keel configuration the boat had—it makes a difference in how the boat can be pulled off the reef. The captain had no idea what kind of keel he had. This was going to be a long night. Captain Mike lives on my dock on a goodsized houseboat with his wife and his two petite and beautiful children. They have been married for almost 19 years. Mala is the first to tell you her husband is anal, and—as a character description— not a lot of people would like that handle. Mike accepts it, and his workboat, his personal boats, his life and surrounding dock buddies, are the better for it. Yes, he does nag us, i.e., are you really going to leave that line in the water? Did you notice the last three letters in your boat name are on a bit of a slant, etc, etc. You get the picture. In his defense, you could hold up some obscure boat part and he could tell you what make, model, and—more important—what could replace it, should it get sacrificed to the benevolent and always hungry deep, dark water. Captain Mike has been in the towboat business going on 20 years, and as he puts it, there isn’t much he hasn’t seen. He deals with a lot of groundings due to the shallow
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SOUTHWINDS
waters surrounding the Florida Keys. Often I have taken my Morgan 41, She Breeze, out the South Creek channel to see a small rental fishing boat aground. The inhabitants of the boat are trying real hard to look like they’re fishing; I know there’s a lot of praying going on, hoping the tide comes in before the authorities get notified. You’ll see snowy egrets wading in the inches-deep water feasting on the newly uncovered tidbits. Nice for the egrets, not so nice for the unfortunate folks on the boat, especially when the water cops are done evaluating the fines for the
damages done to the fragile sea grass or coral reef. Ouch! What a way to spoil a vacation. Mike and Mala are always taking a plate of food over to someone on the dock who is under the weather. Mike jumps right in if there is a boat project you just don’t have the physical strength to complete. Yeah—I’ve had a few of those moments. That kind of neighborliness just doesn’t happen much anymore, does it? We who choose to live on boats have to depend on each other a little more than your traditional neighborhoods. We live a bit closer to the weather and in a more hostile element. We always watch our neighbor’s back, uh, I mean, stern and bow. Meanwhile, the six-hour boaton-the-reef drama was coming to an end on the radio. Mala was relieved, and the kids felt they could go to bed now—Mom was feeling better, and Dad was on his way home. The last transmission I heard was from the sailboat, “Thanks so much, guys. We can see the head pin of Largo harbor. We can make it now.” If I know Mike, I bet he followed them in, just so he could make sure they tied up their lines correctly. You just gotta love the guy! A great liveaboard to have as a neighbor. www.southwindsmagazine.com