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At Cayo Costa, we could tie the dinghy
to the park dock, put our $2-per-sailor
entrance fee in the box, and walk a mile
on a sandy path across to the Gulf of
Mexico side of the island, where a lovely
beach stretched as far as we wanted to
go. In our daily rambles, Rebecca and I
saw pine, cactus, palmetto and oak trees
in pleasing juxtaposition, and spotted
new fl owers and birds. This was a pace
and place we could have enjoyed for days,
or even weeks. But weather was coming,
and although Pelican Bay is a sheltered
anchorage in most conditions, we were
happy to accept an invitation from friends
in nearby Punta Gorda.
Charlotte Harbor is renowned for good
sailing, and Liberte had a splendid 16 -mile
romp in a southerly breeze. We reluctantly
struck sails outside Ponce de Leon Inlet.
Punta Gorda has several good marinas,
but better yet, our friends had welcomed
us to tie up at their dock in the canals. The
tide had just turned and we were unsure
about depth, and as we deliberated, out
of the channel came a sistership, another
Beneteau 361, with the owner smiling and
saying, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fi ne.” If only
every entrance could have such a cheerful
oracle of local knowledge.We motored through the canal system,
ogling homes and boats along the way.
What a treat to see Lori and Tom again,
cruising friends we’d met on the Pacifi c
side. We made a fi ne home at their dock
for a few days while the weather raged.
Tom cooked insanely good barbecue,
and Lori told stories of growing up in
Italy. Punta Gorda has 55 miles of canals,
a nearly nonexistent crime rate, and a
charming downtown and waterfront. Like
many places we’ve visited while sailing, it
was hard to leave.
The weather passed, and with the wind
back to the prevailing northeasterly, we
had another glorious reach retracing our
route across Charlotte Harbor. Just after
dusk, we dropped the hook off the private
island of Useppa, avoiding the cable areas
on the chart. A fragrant wind came from
shore, little lights twinkled, and we seemed
quite far from the worries and cares of the
rest of the world. The boat rocked and
rolled in a couple of passing wakes,
and then we had the place to ourselves.
Ah, Cabbage Key, with its Inn &
Restaurant, and all the places only aboat can take you! It was a bright sunlit
morning as the dockmaster helped us
tie up the dinghy and we scrambled
ashore, eager to get the measure of the
place. The gift shop was tempting and
the nature trail beckoned, but Rebecca
once again had the smart play. “Let’s
grab a table now,” she whispered, and
sure enough, right about the time we
tucked into our shrimp and potato salad
lunch and Cabbage Creeper drinks (the
local favorite), our island was invaded.
Tour boats and private boats arrived by
the dozens, then people came ashore
looking hungry and thirsty. We gave up
our table in good etiquette, and had aprowl around the place, another couple
of Cabbage Creepers in hand, looking for
Jimmy Buffett’s dollar bill. Fortunately, it’s
framed behind the bar, because the walls
and ceiling are thick with layer upon layer
of bills, signed by visitors the world over.
Our bartender’s T-shirt listed answers
to the most frequent visitor questions,
including the fact that $70,000 is taped
to the walls and $10,000 falls off each
year (and is donated to charity). We added
our own dollar bill, inscribed with Liberte,
our names and our favorite sailing toast,
“We’re all here because we’re not all
there.”
We escaped the crowds by climbing thecr
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A picture of a grinning Jimmy Buffett
adorns the bar wall at Cabbage Key
Inn & Restaurant, a must-visit spot in
Pine Island Sound.COURTESYDAVID
K
ILMER(^3);^
IL
LUSTRATION^BYS
HANNONC
AIN^
TUMINO