Our first night on the beach (2/2) was a night of bad storms and high winds. We filled our water tanks (for stability), faced the APPLE into the wind, and spent an evening rockin' and rollin'. The noise on the roof sounded like we had a whole class of tap dancers practicing up there. Although we didn't get much sleep, we came through the storm just fine.
When I flew into Ft. Lauderdale the next day and drove to the class location on the north side of Miami, I saw a lot of the tornado destruction that occurred the previous night. Trees were snapped like matchsticks. Power lines were down. Roofs and windows were damaged. When I had made my hotel reservation, I requested the location that would be closest to where I was to teach the course. Due to some mix up, I was booked into a hotel 20 miles away. As you could imagine, I was quite frustrated…that is until I found out that the hotel I thought I would be staying at had been damaged by the tornado and had no electricity. As a matter of fact, that hotel was out of power until the day I left. (I think my guardian angels were working on my behalf one more time, don't you?)
While I was in Ft. Lauderdale, Tom was hard at work photographing the ocean. He said it's really tough duty to get up early and sit on the beach waiting for just the right sunrise shot. Dozens of birds kept him company. There are large white and brown pelicans, many types of gulls, black skimmers, terns, and lots of little sandpiper-type birds that run like heck to avoid the waves.
Every day Tom walked miles of beach and filled his Wal-Mart bags with "trash and treasures" including bottle caps, straws, cigarette butts, plastic of all kinds, broken glass, fishing line, pens, and lots of styrofoam. It's so sad to see what man has thrown into the precious oceans. After I returned, I joined him in the beach clean-up walks several times per day. After every tide we'd find a new set of garbage that Mother Nature had puked up on the shore. We wonder what makes some people think the ocean should be their dump. When will humankind begin to realize that it's time to change?
The weather was very cold and blustery during the time I was gone, but a couple of days after I got back, it warmed up to over 70 for the first time. In celebration, Tom and I put on our shorts, grabbed a kite, and headed for our back yard (the beach). We flew the multicolored parafoil while walking through the refreshing (a.k.a. cold) surf. There is something about being barefoot in the sand and flying a kite that makes you feel like a kid again. (What have you done lately to preserve the spirit of play?)
My brother, Irwin, and a friend of his flew down from Wisconsin for Daytona Race Week. They stopped by for a brief visit, and we made arrangements to get together. On Monday, 2/9, we went to the house Irwin had rented in Oak Hill, FL. This house was only a couple blocks away from our cousins, Jack and Bobbie Kalstad, so we went over there as well. We had a nice visit, full of laughter and good stories.
Then Jack and Bobbie treated us all to dinner at a great barbecue place called Dustin's. After stuffing ourselves on ribs, potatoes, corn on the cob and beans, we headed for home. On the way, I developed a song about our current location (based on the old tune "Home, Home on the Range"):
Home, home on the beach
Where the sand and the surf are in reach
Where birds do abound
And shells can be found
And peace is offered to each.
We spent the next day (Tues., 2/10) soaking in more of the peace and serenity of the ocean. The winds finally died down enough to allow us to build a campfire once more. There were millions of stars smiling down on us while we roasted tube-steaks and marshmallows. This was to be our last night. We had been able to extend our reservation two nights, and each day we had asked if there had been any reservations cancelled that would allow us to stay longer. The answer was always, "No." With Daytona Race Week upon us, everything was booked solid. It looked like our time here was at an end.
While we were packing up the next morning, Tom and I realized we'd never asked our angels to help us extend. So after sending up a request for help, we headed over to the Park Office for one more try. Once more our unseen friends performed a small miracle. Another couple had just unexpectedly checked out 5 days early. The ranger said if we were willing to move to another campsite, we could stay. (I think I heard the Hallelujah Chorus singing in my mind at that moment.) We hooked up the APPLE, dumped the holding tanks, and moved to the other site.
On Thursday, 2/12, we enjoyed another gorgeous sunrise with pink and gold reflections everywhere. Late in the morning we headed for the Kennedy Space Center. We took the full tour and greatly enjoyed seeing the launch sites, Saturn rockets, space shuttles, lunar rover, lunar lander, theater presentations and numerous displays. We spent 6 hours there, and we could have spent another couple of hours more as there were some things we still didn't get to see. We watched an IMAX movie "The Mission to MIR" about the combined US-Russian missions on the MIR Space Station. We learned that "mir" is the Russian word for "peace." The spirit of cooperation in that endeavor is heartening. We also learned about the upcoming International Space Station which the US, Russia and ten other nations are working on together. It feels good to know that we can be brought together by peaceful projects that can benefit humankind.
After leaving the Space Center, we headed back to Jack and Bobbie Kalstad's for an evening adventure with them and Irwin. Jack took us out on his pontoon boat to go shrimping. It was a beautiful night. The temperature was about 60 degrees and there wasn't much wind. The best part of all was a gigantic full moon that sent a path of diamonds glistening over the water. It was a wonderful night just to be out on the water. The shadows cast by the moonbeams were almost as strong as in daylight.
When attempting to catch shrimp, the boat is anchored, and then lights are placed in the water so you can see the shrimp as they swim by in the tidal current. The nets used to catch or dip the shrimp are like big fishing dip nets with long handles, and a long, pointed, fine-mesh net attached. Jack gave us lessons in how to watch for shrimp, how to put the net down in front of them so they almost swim in, and then slowly and evenly pull the net up. Tom and Irwin took the nets for the first round.
When the first shrimp swam Tom's way, he must have gotten the shrimp version of "buck fever." He dipped that net in and with one mighty swipe tried to net that shrimp. The shrimp however was faster than Tom, and as soon as it felt the water resistance/movement from the net, it jumped to safety. The next shrimp came swimming into view. With great resolve, Tom went for it. Unfortunately, the old Minnesota scoop-the-fish-up-fast-before-it-gets-away technique failed again.
Irwin had been observing Tom's technique and decided to try a different approach. When the first shrimp came his way he slowly lowered his net in front of it, and the shrimp obligingly swam right in. Coach Jack said, "Well, pull the net up, Irwin." There was that one step of the process to complete to make sure that shrimp would become dinner someday. Irwin caught a couple more using that technique over the next 15 minutes. (Yes, it was a slow shrimp night.)
Meanwhile, Jack and I had been swapping stories and dodging the net handles. After observing both Tom and Irwin's techniques, I was ready for my turn. We had a 5-gallon bucket to fill, and I could see this called for some serious shrimping. Irwin handed over his trusty net. I moved to the back edge of the pontoon and assumed the position. Silence descended as we waited for our next target. Tom's eagle eyes spotted dinner heading my way. I lowered my net into position, moved it ever so slowly toward the shrimp, and in one perfectly executed maneuver, I had captured my prey. One, after another, after another, I poised my net, dipped it smoothly and evenly, never missing a one that was foolish enough to swim within my reach. (Of course, with my short arms, they didn't have to swim too far away to be safely out of reach.)
By now, Tom had improved his technique and was catching most of the shrimp that swam his way. Irwin decided it was time to try again, so I turned my bulging net over to him. (Do 8 shrimp constitute a bulge? OK, so maybe it wasn't quite bulging…) Irwin got on a roll and caught several more shrimp. Then, Big Daddy came into view.
"Is that a fish? Or what is it?" asked Irwin.
"It's a great BIG shrimp. Get him!"
The net was dipping, and we were dodging the handle. But Big Daddy hadn't gotten that big by being dumb. He veered toward the lights so the light pole would protect him. Then he headed for the murky depths, safe once more. (As the stories were told later that night, his size went from 6" to 18" in the telling. We'll never know for sure. That's how it is with the one-that-got- away.)
After missing Big Daddy, the excitement settled down. A few more small shrimp were successfully dipped. When we emptied the nets after about two hours of shrimping, we had a grand total of 25 shrimp. They looked like something from a prehistoric horror movie. Now it was time to clean them. Since I don't eat shrimp, I had no interest in learning how to pull their heads off and get the sand vein to come out at the same time. I found this a wonderful time to just contemplate the huge glowing orb in the sky and the moonlight dancing on the water.
Even though the shrimp weren't running, we had enjoyed our adventure. We'd even like to try it again sometime. Luckily the guys didn't fight over the shrimp. Tom got to take them home, and he cooked them the next evening. "Best shrimp I ever ate," he said with a smile. "And the freshest!"
On Friday the 13th Tom drove me to the Orlando airport once more so I could fly to Norfolk, VA for the National Speakers Association Winter Workshop. After picking up some goodies at Camping World, Tom headed for Wal-Mart. As he was skillfully (according to him) backing into his parking spot, a taillight munching shopping cart attacked Big Red. Since the Dodge dealer was closed for the big races, Tom creatively bandaged the wound with RTV and 200-mile-an- hour-tape (duct tape).
During beach patrol on Saturday, Tom found one of our northern friends stranded on the beach. It was a loon that had been blown off course, got caught in the ocean surf, and was marooned as the tide went out. It seems that the loons get so exhausted from migrating that they sometimes get pneumonia. Once in the rough surf, they cannot take off again. Other times, they confuse the salt water for fresh water. The salty fish and lack of fresh drinking water affect them, so they become severely dehydrated.
As Tom tried to figure out how to help the loon, an earth angel named Debbie appeared. She had rescued several other loons that had washed up on the shore and were sure to die. She would take them to her vet who would try to heal them (with mixed success) and release them. Tom protected the loon while Debbie went to get a basket and a cloth to put over the distraught bird. The rescue was successful. Later Debbie told Tom that the vet was hopeful that this bird would make it.
The NSA Winter Workshop was uplifting and educational. Although many of my NSA friends will go to the other workshop (in San Francisco), I did see a few of my old friends. And I made some new ones, too. The speakers were very skilled role models who told stories that made me laugh and cry. It always feels like a warm, loving gathering of 'the tribe.' So many of us in this speaking profession feel our work is a calling. It is our mission in life to make a positive difference in the world by touching others with our stories and with our hearts. These workshops are a wonderful place to get re-energized and reconnected.
Tom picked me up Sunday night, and we returned for one last night on the beach. We spent our last night much like the first--rockin' and rollin' in another set of heavy storms. The winds howled and the tap dancers tapped on the roof. After another mostly sleepless night, we hitched up the APPLE and with a fond farewell headed for Cousin Jack's home in Oak Hill.
Another set of heavy storms started in just when we were finishing getting set up by Jack's new home. This time it sounded like hundreds of drummers were using the APPLE as a practice pad. I spent the evening working on this travelogue while Tom read. The deluge continued all night, and it totaled 8 inches by the time it finished about 8 am this morning.
As I finish this two week travelogue edition it is Tuesday, 2/17. Tom is packing his camera gear for our upcoming adventure. We'll leave the APPLE here while Tom flies with me tonight to Phoenix for 9 days. I'll be doing two 3-day Project Management classes. This will be Tom's first trip to Phoenix, and he's looking forward to photographing the desert. It'll be nice to have him with me, especially since we'll be able to celebrate my birthday together on Friday.
Internet access has been very limited for the last two weeks. (That's why this is a two week travelogue.) We will have Internet access the whole time we're in Phoenix, so be sure to send us an email or two. Pictures that accompany this travelogue will be on our website (http://web.idirect.com/~applesd/) later this week, so be sure to check them out if you can. Our next travelogue will probably be out after our Phoenix adventures. Until then, keep the fun meter pegged.
Love from the wanderers...as the journey continues...
Kay & Tom
