Chasing Manatees, Getting Stranded

This is what it feels like when a manatee buzzes you from down under: the boat drops suddenly then pops back up, like a small dip on the water flume. I saw two of them and I'm pretty sure they didn't know what to make of Big Blue encroaching on their territory. I devoted a good bit of time trying to catch them on camera--in vain--and spent the rest of the trip watching schools of fish jump out of my way, weaving their way through the eel grass. I couldn't help but compare the manatee's graceful meanderings with the violent escapes of the alligator, both of which I have now experienced.

This is what it feel like when your truck gives up the ghost on the way back: a sharp, and sustained, feeling of "oh shit." I spent nearly four hours in a small town not too far from here, and that was long enough to tell you everything you need to know about the following: the reliability of a certain local mechanic, the abundance of crack cocaine in said town, the alleged internecine goings on of the town council, and the wonderfulness of the local BBQ. I spent eating this, by the way, while watching an episode of "Cops In Vegas." Apparently, prostitution is worthy of an all-out sting operation, a la "Reno 911." Had I been prone to an extra dose of depression on this day, watching cops bust prostitutes on TV while waiting for a truck repair I knew would not be successful would have likely put me over the edge.

My kayak fits oh so well atop my old, faithful truck. The thought of this being the end of our journeys is sad indeed. But I am still in get-it-done mode right now and I can't think about it too deeply. Never fear, though, my boat will get into the water somehow. I confess it has become a less-than-daily enterprise these days, what with the cold and all. I'm still out three times or so a week and there's the small matter of my being addicted to it, so I've got that going for me, which is nice.