It’s the Gulf Islands tonight, a place called Pirate’s Cove. The book describes this place as having wall to wall boats during the summer, which is why we’re here in the beginning of May. Truthfully, if it wasn’t a Tuesday in the beginning of May, we’d be somewhere else. Thankfully there is ample room tonight.
This cove has the dubious distinction of being the place where I first anchored my own bareboat about twenty years ago. I was with a couple of friends who had even less experience than I did. We floated in ready to drop anchor and the engine quit. Huh? Turns out: when we slowed down, the dinghy caught up and the line it was tethered to wrapped around the prop. Guess who got to go for a swim to cut it free with a kitchen knife. That’ll make your teeth chatter. It was one of many lessons on a relentless learning curve. That’s one of the things I love about this sport: I never stop learning.
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