Midday Manatees and Later, Gators

We woke up on the East side of Lake Okeechobee excited and relieved to be in a non-tilted boat again. The day was warm with very little wind; perfect conditions for crossing the lake. (Provided you have a motor, but we'll get to that in a bit.)

Justin untied us from the dolphin he had lassoed the night before and we started off. A lot of the cleats on these dolphins are installed really high for big, commercial boats. For little sailboats like Mischief Managed, they can be a pain to reach.

Look what Justin caught!

It was a short drive to the final lock that marked the entrance to the lake. Unlike every other lock we had gone through, this lock was weird because it didn't send us up or down. It's only used when the water level in the lake is unusually high.

The most boring lock so far.

And then we poked out into the calm and serene Lake Okeechobee. After being in canals and rivers and the Intracoastal, it was neat to be in fairly open water again.

Very lakey

We entered Lake Okeechobee in the early afternoon, with plenty of time to make the crossing before dark. (Or so we thought...dun dun duuuuun!) This slow pace of only driving a few hours a day was finally starting to feel normal. Since we were in no rush and there was a slight breeze, we did  something we have haven't done while moving in a long time: we turned off the motor. The sails filled in silence, and it was very peaceful gliding along with no rumbling engine accompanying our way.

Oooh, that's what those big white things are for. 

Eventually, the wind died down. About half-way across the lake, we decided it was time to turn the motor on again and get back up to our super speedy six knots. I got up and turned the ignition key. It coughed, sputtered, and wheezed, but didn't turn on. I tried again. And again. And again.

Justin jumped down below and began rooting around in the engine, trying to figure out why it wasn't starting. I stayed up top, trying to swallow down a growing flood of panic. We were in the middle of Lake Okeechobee, with nobody else for miles, no engine, and no wind.

I was convinced we were going to die there.

Justin continued to toil away in the cabin while I did everything I could to catch what little breeze ambled past. He managed to identify the fuel pump as the source of our troubles, but he wasn't able to figure out exactly what was wrong with it. Our pleasant, three hour crossing was slowly dragging into a much longer aimless drift. I was now kicking myself for purposely choosing a calm day to cross the lake. I would much rather endure uncomfortable, rocking waves than sit in the middle of this lake doing nothing.

Slowly, night set in.

Abject terror is so pretty.

Our original plan was to go through the stationary lock on the Western side of the lake and tie up between dolphins. However, that's a tricky procedure even when you do have a working motor. (Imagine trying to parallel park a car that can never totally stop on a road that also moves.) With only wind to power us, that would make the process nearly impossible. And of course, there weren't any secure anchorages nearby. Our options were to anchor illegally, wrangle a dolphin without a motor, or hope there was a marina nearby.

After a couple hours of going 0.4 knots, Justin put the dinghy in the water to tow us the rest of the way across the lake. Once the dinghy was off the boat, of course, the wind started to pick up. We were able to eek out about 4 knots of speed to get us to the other side of the lake.

Like the first lock we went through that morning, this lock was really no more than an open hallway that didn't do anything. But it was so creepy sailing through silently in the dark. I felt like we were sneaking up to an enemy castle and about to invade.

Just past the lock, our handy dandy Navionics app indicated there was a dead end with a long dock where we could safely park the boat. I dared to feel a little bit of hope. If the wind held out, we should be able to coast up to the dock, tie up, and this nightmare could end. Justin carefully navigated the terrifyingly shallow water, our equipment beeping incessantly into the darkness, warning us that the water was only six feet deep...five and a half feet deep...five and quarter feet deep....

Justin looked at me. I looked at him.

"We stopped moving, didn't we?" I asked.

"Yup." Justin replied. We had run aground. Normally, if we run aground, all we have to do is put the boat in reverse and motor away from whatever shoal we bumped into. But with no wind, no motor, and nobody around, we were stuck. I was not happy.

Luckily, Justin was able to keep his wits about him. He climbed into the dinghy and, with the dinghy tied securely to the boat, tried to tow the boat off of the shoal. (I stayed on the boat and tried not to panic.) It took a few tries, but finally, the dinghy was able to drag the boat free and into deeper water.

Since the wind was no longer reliable, Justin remained in the dinghy and towed the boat to the only empty spot at the far end of the dock. I honestly don't remember how we managed to navigate the narrow channel with only the dinghy to guide us, but finally, we tied up to the dock and did not die.

Once I was convinced we were safe, all I could think about was the expenses this ordeal was going to cause. How long would we have to pay to stay in this marina? Would we need parts shipped to us? How many parts would we have to order? What if the parts were wrong and the boat caught fire?  While I planned for the worst, Justin diligently continued working on the engine. Finally, he emerged, greasy and dirty, but triumphant. He reported that he had been able to fix the fuel pump. I would tell you how, but honestly, I don't know how a fuel pump works other than...it pumps fuel....somehow....

I was able to go to bed that night knowing we had survived our first major breakdown, and all it cost was a few hours of terror and one night at a marina. In the end, the marina turned out to be pretty nice, and they gave us an extra pity discount. Plus, they had a pool on the property, and I got to go swimming the next day!

This pool was deeper than where we ran aground the night before. 

The next day was bright and warm, and we set off down the canal and away from Lake Okeechobee. Up until this point, I had spent our travel days staring intently at the banks of the waterway, searching for my reptile brethren: alligators. If you remember from our kayaking adventure, I desperately wanted to see both alligators and manatees. (Maybe not together. I feel like a manatee might be an alligator's lunch.) We had heard rumors that alligators loved hanging out on the banks of the calm, not-too-busy canal. I managed to spot one before the lake, but it scooted back into the water before I could get a good picture.

Suddenly, I found myself surrounded by alligators! They would cruise past us on the water, sun themselves on the banks, or glare at us exasperatedly as we scared away their food. Like me, I think they had been waiting for warm enough weather before they were willing to show themselves to others.

This alligator was between four and forty feet long. 

Two of our furry crew members, Tiny and Apollo, came out to check out the alligators too. I made sure they stayed securely on the boat.

We can haz gatorz? For om noms?

Now that the motor was fixed, we fell back into our new routine of sleeping in, driving the boat for a few hours, then tying to some free dolphins for the night. It was relaxing, warm, and we got some pretty nice sunsets out of it.

This was in Moore Haven. It was a ghost town. Literally. I'm pretty sure I saw four ghosts. 

I don't remember where this picture was taken. Probably Florida. 

Eventually, we made a long stop in LaBelle, Florida. The town itself didn't have much beyond a few restaurants and a grocery store, but at the edge of town were the coveted free docks. These weren't just any free docks; they were six glorious slips with power and water hookups, free for the taking.

As long as you got there first, of course.

A battle for a free dock can be a grueling fight. Boats get boarded, boats are sunk, there are casualties on all sides. It can be vicious. (Especially if you're prone to hyperbole, like me.) The first night, all six slips were taken. We positioned ourselves carefully on the other side of the river, ready to jump at the first sign of weakness from one of the other boats. Then, an actual pirate ship pulled up next to where we were lying in wait. (For real. For once it's not hyperbole.) I was a little nervous. It was one thing to fight an old, retired couple out for a weekend on their trawler. It was something else entirely to engage actual pirates in combat.

That afternoon, we got a tip from one of the six boats that they would be leaving at nine the following morning. So, we set our alarms for 8:45, and sure enough, heard them driving by a few minutes after we woke up. We tore out of bed, turned on the boat, and raced to the free slip at a breakneck six knots. By 9:30, we were filling our batteries and water tank with free power and water.

The pirate ship ambled over to another spot that happened to open up a few hours later. It turned out we didn't have to fight anyone after all. I was a little disappointed.

Mischief Managed would have won that fight. 

In LaBelle, we didn't do too much. We chatted with fellow boaters when we were feeling social, and I wandered around a tiny nature park when I wasn't in the mood for humans any more.

There was a creepy man sitting at a picnic table behind one of these bushes. 

I decided I like Spanish moss better than Buffalo icicles. Icicles taste better though....

Our last stop before the Gulf Coast was an anchorage just outside Manatee Park. That's right; a park where only manatees are allowed to play on swings and slides and things. Okay, maybe not, but you have to admit, that would be awesome.

We decided the best way to get there was by dinghy. The two guys manning the kayak launch site were pretty surprised to see us pull up, but they were nice and let us leave the dinghy tied up next to their ramp.

Almost there...

Manatee park is a small nature preserve outside of a large power plant. Manatees love warm water, so the heated water coming out of the power plant is like a giant sauna to them. Some smart person decided to cordon off the area so boaters can't get in, but manatees can drift in and out. Then they built a bunch of viewing platforms on land, and voila, Manatee Park was born.

As we left in the dinghy, we paddled around and found ourselves surrounded by manatees who were drifting away from their spa day and back into the rest of the river. They were enormous, and they would amble up to the surface, take a quick breath so we could see a whiskered snout, then sink back down again.

I promise, that's a manatee. He was embarrassed about his weight. People had been calling him a sea cow.

That afternoon, it was supposed to be a short, hour long drive to our mooring in Fort Myers. But due to some navigational confusion, it wound up being about four hours.

We saw another pirate ship. I didn't pick a fight with this one.

However, it was nice being back in coastal waters. We were greeted by some friendly dolphins as we entered the harbor!

We've spent the last week in Fort Myers Beach, enjoying the sun, the beach town, and the nearby restaurants. While the main beach was pretty crowded, it was a little too cold for swimming. We did have a lot of fun walking on the extremely fine sand; it was like walking in piles of flour. The sand was apparently great for making sandcastles, too. I don't have any sand or castle building skills, but some other random guy did, and I was very impressed.

I think I could handle the coconut parts. 

One of the best parts of Fort Myers, however, was deciding to rent a car. I really love having a car. It allows to do fun things like check out the remote island beach at Lover's Key State Park, where I got to see a ton of crabs and starfish.

Don't worry, the legs grow back.

It also allowed us to play mini golf, where I crushed Justin to a pulp.

The ball goes on the green part, Justin. 

As much as I have enjoyed our slow pace along the Okeechobee Waterway, I'm excited to get moving again. Tonight we return the car and enjoy our last night in Fort Myers before we head down the coast and jump across the Gulf to Key West!

tl;dr: We had some engine trouble on Lake Okeechobee, then saw alligators and manatees before arriving in Fort Myers.