We headed back into the boatyard, and met up with Bill, the yard manager. He asked if we could move the boat into a slip they had open, and I mentioned that Joe had tried to start the engine on Friday, but it wouldn’t turn over. Bill said he had a mechanic at the yard and would have him take a look at it. (Awesome!) We also got the dinghy motor off the boat to take it to a small engine shop to have it looked at. We headed into the yard office to try to get an inkling of when they need us to move the boat.
Here are our dilemmas:
- it’s becoming increasingly clear that we need to set aside our hopes of getting any sailing in during the next few weeks. We just need to get it to a DIY yard so we can work on the boat ourselves (as much as possible anyways) and save some money.
- We want Norm to help us move Mojo to a DIY yard in Port Charlotte (about 2 days sail from here – the trip includes moving it through a lock system). But Norm isn’t available until the end of this month.
- So we are in limbo for about a week. Will Snead Island let us keep the boat here until we can get Norm to come with us to move it south? (Their yard and marina are chock-full – this is a really busy, humming place with boats and workers moving all over every day.) Drum roll, please. We will see.
So we decide to spend the rest of the afternoon well, and drive to a beach that will allow dogs (hard to find in FL – they pride themselves on being so non-restrictive, with loose regulations, but I question some of that sentiment – for instance they are very restrictive where dogs are allowed – very few parks and beaches will allow them, even on leashes). There’s a small beach at Fort DeSoto that is dog-friendly, so we headed there. Didn’t last super long though – Buster is not exactly a ‘water dog’, plus he’s getting old and cranky, is totally deaf, and doesn’t see so great anymore either. On top of it all, there was this out of control dog that kept racing up and down the beach, humping this one poor dog at the east end of the beach, and then manically sniffing every dog butt he could as he worked his was west, only to repeat the process like he had OCD. Dog beaches are weird.