Schlagwort-Archive: Island Sand Paper

Returning Home to a Sailboat

[button color=“#fff“ background=“#000″ size=“medium“ src=““]…previously published on Fort Myers Beach „Island Sand Paper“[/button]

[divider scroll_text=“the article“]


Returning Home, from Island Sand Paper Sep-13 2013
Returning Home, from Island Sand Paper Sep-13 2013

Everyone needs a vacation from time to time. A week or two to think about what has been archived and what are the goals to go for: A camping trip into the woods or laying back on a mountain lake shore, just watching clouds passing the blue sky. A changing scene generates new inspirations and frees the mind. Like changing wallpapers at home can make an old house look new, another lookout can help to refresh an old life. I experienced this every time I felt uncomfortable with what I did. A week focusing on the problem while looking ad fresh images always revealed the way I would go next. It made and enlarging time between jobs to travel and finally led to where I am now: Living on a boat in Fort Myers Beach. And doing so changed the pattern.

Wallpapers at home stay the same and a vacation means to return to them at the end of a trip. Sometimes this is the bad part of a journey, returning from an exciting place to face the reoccurrence of the day to day life that was just left behind. But what, if the wallpaper change is the day to day life.

I live aboard for more than five years now and since than returning home has changed a lot. Sailing back to Paulinchen‘s homeport does not feel like returning home anymore. Over time it just became a destination on the trip, to finish a circumvention not to end the voyage. My home is floating along changing scenes and seasons. And a vacation has become to see friends and family at the life I have once lived.


Manatee aground

Beached Manatees on a sandbar at Fort Myers Beach
Beached Manatees on a sandbar at Fort Myers Beach
„This article has been published in Fort Myers Beach „Island Sandpaper“ in august.

Last week I woke up one morning to some sort of splash sound not very far from the boat I live on. „Another dolphin“, was my first thought but somehow it sounded heavier and there were more splashes that caught my attention and made me get up into the cockpit.

The splash originated from the tail of a manatee on the barely covered sandbar right in Fort Myers Beach Harbor. And it was not alone.

It was not my first manatee encounter. Over the last weeks every now and than one sticked its nose out of the water, breathing like a long sneeze and and than disappear again. But never before I heard about manatees beach them selves for whatever reason. So I jumped in the dinghy to get a little closer to the scene and have a look.

From maybe 200-foot distance I counted four of them somewhat piled on top of each other. And from the swirling water around them I could see another four or five circling in deeper water. A whole family, flock, herd – whatever social structure manatees live in, it was there. Flapping tails, pushing noses, heavy bodies…

The water was wild and the big mammals seemed to push each other around in the mud. Was this play? Did they just cuddle? – At least one, maybe two, in the middle appeared to be stuck and it almost looked like the others were trying to help them get off.

Later that day I did some research and learned, that they are actually very social, even if they are often encountered alone. And if I witness one stuck in the sand again on a falling tide I now know that should be reported to the FWC Wildlife Alert hotline on 1-888-404-3922 to maybe have someone help them. But I did not know that and I was not worried as the tide was coming in quite strong.

No doubt, if stuck, there by accident, it would have been only a question of a few more minutes to be free again. They seemed to know that as they became more and more agile trying to push those in their middle even more toward the rim. Flipping my outboard engine up I rowed my inflatable a little closer, clearly tempted by curiosity and at the same time trying to keep a reasonable distance. Speechless drifting in the morning sun, I could not decide between feeling sorry for them and being grateful for this very unusual encounter.

Another dinghy came closer. Moving quickly, it overtook me. The guy got close enough to take a few shots on his cell phone – not even looking at those ripples that  marked the submerged others. He slowly circled the scene, took a few more pictures and off he went, saying something I could not understand over the constant barking of his dog.

Whatever it was saying, he seemed at first to be addressing me, than at the huge bodies in the mud, than again at me. I was not speechless anymore but kept my mouth shut to so as to not start the day grouching as he zoomed back into the mooring field.

And after I calmed down, a sad feeling of embarrassment filled in. As boaters, be it for an afternoon trip or living out on a hook, we often have a great chance to become witnesses to amazing moments. But this comes with the burden of a few responsibilities. Some by laws that we have to follow, but more by the fact that we simply do not belong there.

We need a good chunk of science and technology to stay afloat and be independent. As visitors to this environment we should be curious for what it has to offer and behave as smart guests, trying to be inconspicuous, observe quietly and be respectful to the natives we visit.

Than they might let us into their world. Like these mammals who I ever pictured as almost sedate animals, moving their heavy body slowly through the water. An opinion that changed in a second – tails flapped, and the water seemed to be boiling right in front of me. The manatees then submerged in the muddy water and, it seemed, all of them where aiming straight towards me. Eight huge bodies, barely submerged at a speed of maybe ten miles an hour over a shallow sandbar threw a wake of more than a foot. A scene from a Hollywood horror movie could not be more authentic.

„You do not eat humans, don‘t you? No need to flip me over”, was all I thought as I kneeled down in the boat, holding on to the sides. They didn‘t. All of them passed right under me and than spread out. Some came back – like they wanted to look why I am staying – and than all disappeared towards the mangroves.

A Life on the Sea

I met Island Sand Paper Editor Keri at Matanza’s Upper Deck, a casual bar at the motel ashore from where Paulinchen is currently docked. And maybe my office dress (Shorts, Flip Flops, T-Shirt) and having my computer with me made her write that the bar became my regular office here in Fort Myers Beach. In fact, it was for that day.

And so we started chatting over a beer about cruising, living aborad and how I got from where I once lived to where I am now. Her article was published in Island Sand Paper and you can read it online on the newspapers Website.

A Life on the Sea - Island Sand Paper
A Life on the Sea – Island Sand Paper