Don't Rock The Boat, Baby

It was right after hurricane Charley blew through Punta Gorda and took our Mako with it. We had enough damage to our home and the last thing we wanted was to also lose our boat. Charley had other plans.

When we decided to retire, we chose Florida as our new place to live because we love to fish. My husband often remarked how he hated to see the boat sitting in the backyard on the trailer, covered with a tarp, and all too often accompanied with snow for the winter. We lived in New York and the winter months were not good for fishing in a small 24-foot boat.

In the spring of 1996, we bought our property in sunny Florida. In 1997, due to a severe injury, my husband was forced to retire. We visited Florida, looked around, and found a builder whose homes we liked. We signed the contract. The following summer, we drove to Florida to visit my husband’s sisters and experience the thrill of standing on our property. What we saw was purely a date-changing episode in our lives. The builder we had hired began on the basics of the house: the footings and spacings for underground wiring and plumbing, and the basic footing for our dock.

Oh! what to do! We thought we would have about six more months before he actually started on the house. When we called him and ask why the change in date, he said that he’d finished another house earlier than expected and decided to begin ours.

Feeling as though we didn’t have much choice, we shortened our vacation, drove home, started packing, and put our New York home up for sale. We wanted to be present as the house was being built in case some sort of problem arose.

By the end of October, we were moving into a small, rented house to see us through the construction of our new home in Punta Gorda, FL. Our children were married and took much of the household items we didn’t want, that included the furniture we didn’t plan on hauling down south.

We moved the rest in two trips: the first was hauling the boat and putting it in storage until the house was ready; the second was the many boxes containing what we wanted to bring. We were lucky that they all fit in the house we rented. That little house had two bedrooms and we used one for storage.

By the end of March, our new home was almost completely finished and by April first, we were handed the keys to move in. As June of 1999 approached, we were completely settled and felt quite at home in our new residence. Between the gardening, putting the final finishing touches on the house, and spending as much time on the water fishing as possible, we felt very comfortable and quite happy as we enjoyed every day in Punta Gorda.

We enjoyed our new life every day for the next five years, then in August of 2004, hurricane Charley arrived. Charley, a Cat 4 storm change so much.

As we drove around our surrounding neighborhood and town, looking at the destruction caused by the storm, we knew we were lucky to survive its wrath. There were a few that were not. As far as damage, we also were lucky. Many people had their homes, to be exact and not dramatic, flattened. Ours had damage but was still standing. Our roof was damaged beyond repair. The lanai screen was pulled off the foundation and destroyed – and the list goes on and on. Our beloved Mako was now history as were so many other boats in the area.

While we waited for the insurance to kick in, we opted to purchase a smaller personal watercraft. We chose a Gheenoe canoe.

Not being able to swim, I was hesitant to board this skinny vessel and fish, but my husband was eager to give it a try. Off we went! I have no choice but to admit that I had a fantastic time. We were super careful to not “rock the boat” while catching fish, but it gave us the opportunity to go into shallower water than the Mako would have allowed.

We had friends who lived on the next canal and often, my husband and Gary took turns being the hosts of their weekly fishing excursions. Gary wasn’t really too keen on using his boat, and while he never admitted it, we always felt that he was intimidated by its size. It was only a 24-foot Grady White, but he rarely used it. At that time, my husband didn’t care. He loved his little canoe and used it as often as possible – until that one dreadful afternoon.

One thing to keep in mind is that a normal day of fishing for my husband isn’t just two or three hours on the water. He’ll have his breakfast and pack his lunch and then try to leave the dock by 7:30am – eight the latest, planning on returning home around five or six in the afternoon. Maybe that’s one of reasons we get along so well. We have the same attitude regarding fishing. I also can stay out all day.

That one day I mentioned, Gary’s wife stopped by for lunch. We were enjoying our sandwiches and homemade salads when we saw a canoe lumbering down the canal.

“Hey, that looks like my canoe,” I commented.

As it got a bit closer, Margie said, “It is your canoe. I see Rich at the stern manning the motor. Wonder why the boys are home so early!”

It didn’t take long to find out. Gary helped Rich quickly pull the canoe on the dock, empty the vessel of all their fishing equipment and then make their way to the lanai.

Rich said to me, “Do me a favor and get the peroxide from the medicine cabinet.”

My first questions before I moved, was, “Where are you hurt, how bad, and how did it happen?”

Rich was standing in the canoe and lost his footing. Gary thinking Rich might fall overboard, jumped up to grab him. As Gary lunged forward, he lost his balance, and ended up accidently pushing Rich overboard – directly in the path of an oyster bed!

OUCH! That had to hurt.

Rich had minor cuts on the backs of his legs but the biggest was a slice across his back. The initial gash wasn’t that large but made bigger and worse as he shifted to get up.

I washed his legs and back and then applied the peroxide, Neosporin, and bandages but cautioned him that he needed professional medical attention.

Having worked on an ambulance back in New York, I knew enough about infections to know when professional intervention was warranted. We drove to the clinic in the next town (which was only a fifteen-minute ride away), where they examined him, rewashed his wounds with another dose of peroxide and using a heavy-duty, extra strength antibiotic cream, finally rebandaged him warning him to not bathe for two weeks.

“What?” he began. “I stink like fish!”

The nurse was sympathetic and offered this advice: “Have your wife give you a sponge bath for two weeks. However, under no circumstances should you wash off this antibiotic cream. Should these wounds get infected, you will, with no doubt be having a visit to the hospital. Wounds caused by oyster shells, if left untreated or treated improperly can cause a virbrio infection. Some infections are mild while others can result in death. I’m not trying to scare you, only caution you. Don’t get the wound dressings wet! Oh, and follow up with your own primary doctor in two weeks. We’ll send him our report regarding your injuries.”

For the next two weeks, my husband was babied and while part of him grumbled at not taking his own shower, he sort of reveled in the attention I gave him.

And for the next two weeks, he did not go fishing and while he still has the scars from thea fateful day, at least he healed with no further problems.

We kept the Gheenoe for another year while we waited for our new boat to be delivered to the dealership. This time, we purchased a 20-foot Carolina Skiff and we’re both back on the water as often as possible.

Gary and his wife moved to another state to be closer to their children, but we have new neighbors and friends who are just as enthusiastic about fishing as we are.

We’re still loving our Florida home and will fish as often as possible but are now even more careful about “rocking the boat”.