Monday, February 24. All is well. Nephew Craig picks me up for a day of fishing
at Fiesta Key. He and my niece, Tina, and my brother John (UJ), are down for a
week or so of fishing off Craig's 21 foot Eastern Center Cockpit. Good
day for me learning to fish the way they do in The Keys - with live
shrimp. We catch a few. I take home a nice fillet of Black Snapper.
Tuesday, February 25. Butter sautéed Snapper for breakfast. Great. Did I say,
great? It was. Then back to Fiesta Key for an 0700 rendezvous with Craig and UJ
for a day of offshore fishing in and around Hawk Channel looking for the big
ones. We trolled all the way down to Vaca Key (near Marathon) with nary a
hint that fish live in this hot, calm, flat, clear water. We dealt with this
disappointment by doing some reef fishing (catching a bunch of good sized
Jacks) and then some fishing at the Channel #5 Bridge (UJ started pulling them
up on the first cast).
A good day.
So far.
Craig and Tina drove me the 22 miles back to Marathon. Tess was not at the
dinghy dock waiting for me. Does she despise fishermen? Not unless they bring
fish onto her boat. Tess arrives after a short wait. "There is
something we need to discuss." Yikes! Finally she realizes that the cold,
wet snow is more alluring than the warm tropical breezes that I force her to
live in. This may be the end.
But, no. It's these tortillas that we need to discuss. Look! Unless your
Ambien induced sleep-eating caused you to do this (I have never had an Ambien),
then we have an "issue".
These tortillas?
Not chewed on by me. I swear!
An issue, we have. Life slows. Then stops. No. No, I said. We
have...No, I said. No. No. No. It can't be. We don't. We can't. Can we? Is it
possible? Are we dirty? Are we bad? Does the world hate us? Do we, really? Do
we? Have a .... Can I say it? Can I even think it? Do we? A.... No. No! No! No!
A rodent? Aboard? Endurance? Our boat? Our home? Our life?
Look again. It can't be true! We review our recent life. Then, ... it
hits us. Boca Chita! We were so smug. A hard to get into anchorage. No, a snug
harbor. Tied to the bulkhead. Safe in a 52 knot storm. That's 60 MPH to you
landlubbers! We had a grand time.
Those holes in the ground? Not "rodents"? Those holes in the
coconuts? Not "rodents"? Could they? Would they?
Is it possible that an animal (let's not jump to conclusions), found refuge
during the storm as we did? We did leave our companionway open to enjoy the
warm, if stormy, weather. Oh. No!
So, we met immediately with Shawn, the Dockmaster. At least six so far this
year, he says. I have a Have-A-Heart trap in the pickup. We take it. We
also go to see Ann behind the desk, to extend our one week stay for another
thirty days (30 days for the price of 17). “Loving Marathon?”, Ann asks.
We suggest, in most maybe language, an "issue". “Oh,” she says, “We
were almost killed. Ate through our propane line before we even knew we had,
... an ‘issue’,” she says.
Life in the Florida Keys?
We spent Tuesday night aboard with "an issue" and a loaded Have-a
Heart. Did we sleep? Who knows.
Wednesday, February 26. Dawn comes with a new attitude. This is our boat.
This is not allowed. We can deal with this. Insert foul language here.
Tess had already done a good deal of internet research. And spoken to many
cruisers (half of whom said, "Here's my story"). And started speaking
with or leaving messages for many professional exterminators. Responses
included:
We don't do Marathon. We don't
do boats. We don’t do that type of “issue”. And of course, we don’t do return
phone calls! Luckily, a niece and
nephew from another brother (so good to have so many!) oversee a Miami-based
extermination company.
They know the
worst of the stories, but answered early and with certainty.
Trap it, do your best, expect screaming and
yelling when you finally get it!
Oh,
God…did you need to get the rodents onto the ark?????
One more call returned who slowly explained that boats are just too “open
ended” …these things swim.
If they find
too little to make their home cozy, they leave the same way they arrived….you
may never know, it may be already gone.
This advice…get cheap (big) spring traps from the grocery store. Many of
them. With Jiff peanut butter. And, ...
don’t let it ruin your good
time! Get off the boat. Let him or it or the issue, have the run of
the place. With no other food source, but Jiff. We did. Seven traps. With
Jiff. And we left.
Trap replaces tortillas.
No room at the inn at Captain Jim Stengel's Harbour Cay Club. No digs in
Marathon this time of year. George Conway? Don't bother him. “But.... We have
... an issue…” Tess whines.
Is that condo still available? Of course!!!! Did I say, of course? Tess is
ecstatic. We had spent the day contemplating and investigating the rental
of a van ( to empty the boat)
[nothing
available less than a 14’ truck]. A storage unit (to store our stuff)
[tell ME they don’t have ‘issues’ there!].
A broker (to sell the damn boat - issue included)
[J].
Now? Just five moorings away from where we (and it) live. There is a condo.
Empty. At our disposal. Overlooking the harbor. With a dock. With a car. Is God
or nature on our side? At least in part? Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!
We move to Sombrero Drive. Fourth floor. The harbor. The pool. The many
bedrooms. And office. And four bathrooms. And pool. And cable television. And
internet.
And George as our savior!
We move. We remove food. We remove what we called in law school, any “attractive
nuisance” for "our issue". We set a fully array of traps.
The Galley.
The Forward Head.
The Anchor Locker
(wax paper used to lower traps done without snapping them or my fingers).
Morning one after full array. No luck. Morning two. No luck. Morning
three. No luck. And throughout we have seen no evidence of having an
issue. Apart from the tortillas (were vitamins confused with Ambien?) we
have nothing. No scat. That is, no droppings (none were ever seen). No bugs (we
did seem to have a small swarm prior to "that day"). Nothing. By day
three we had emptied all storage compartments.
And access panels to all parts of the boat
were opened and a full on investigation undertaken. No nothing. Nada. Rather
see you than not at this point, you, you, you "issue"!!!!
The last exterminator says that he wants seven days fully arrayed. But,
based on where we are now, it's possible that our "issue" has gone on
to greener pastures. The frustration is that "finding" means
"finality". Not finding, means ... what?
Now. It is Wednesday. March 5. Seven days have passed. Still nothing. Fully
arrayed. No scat. No bugs. No nothing. We have done what we could do.
No issue. We are now in full on clean up mode. The anchor locker having
been cleared and scrubbed, is now re-stowed. The bug bomb is done. All of the
boat is up for a scrub. Everything aboard being cleaned and restored.
The Anchor Locker cleaned again.
We are moving back to normal. Can we ever convince ourselves to leave the
luxury of this condominium? We can shower several times a day. We swim in the
pool. We lounge in open spaces. We now are spoiled from the cruising
life.
We have several days of cleaning left. We may need an eviction notice.
But, our issue is (based upon all available data and professional consultation
and crossed fingers) behind us.
Life. It's weird. But, still okay. Maybe, great.
