Sunshine

In order to earn my stripes as a true-blue, sun-burnt Floridian, I sought the Florida Keys as my destination. Heretofore I was just another suburbanite from a salty town in Florida. The beach was blasé; watersports seemed like work, and my liver refused frequent boating-booze-cruises. ‘Am I a lazy, tee-totaling vampire?’ I thought, unknowingly.

I planned my trip to the Keys, nevertheless, with a cliché checklist: the Hemingway House, historic bars, and a photo-op at the Southernmost Point. These well-trodden paths, however, are but the touristic surface of a far richer, oceanic culture of warm, hospitable folk.

With a little diligence and homework, my girlfriend and I found a local boat captain whom operated a small charters company in Big Pine Key named American Allegiance Charters. His prices were much more than a twentysomething 'kiddult' like myself could afford. Just then, I remembered dad’s old wisdom: “When Money Runs Dry, Barter Runs High.” So, upon striking a barter with Captain Trammell—we built a website in exchange for a 2-day trip—we were aboard his custom juniper boat and on the water! Voila!

I snorkeled Looe Key, diving under emerald water past schools of yellowtail, parrot fish, and a rainbow of other species; the fan coral undulated to the sea’s rhythm; and the shells drifted in aquatic lullabies. The water’s surface reflected white and gold sunrays like a sky full of daytime stars.
The captain’s small boat skated across the water into the bay of Sugarloaf Key. Castles of clouds raised upwards, and thunderstorms brewed along the horizon. We dodged rainclouds under the cover of bridges and keen--some would say reckless--maneuvering. After the intermittent storms had passed, we moved swiftly to the captain’s “Hogfish Hunting Hole.” Boat anchored, we kerplunked into the 15-foot depths with spear-guns cradled in our arms and the spirit of the hunt in our blood!

Truth be told, I don’t have the guts to kill a fly, but I’m not a Jainist! So, I took to this experience with newfound eagerness, and scanned the ocean floor for Hogfish like a missile-honing-radar. All said and done, I was outsmarted and outswam by each and every fish! Instead, I found a darling, vacant conch shell as a souvenir. There was too much beauty, though, to feel as if I had left the “hunting hole” empty-handed. On the contrary, I was enamored by the awesome majesty of sting-rays, sea turtles, barracuda, an occasional shark, and the ocean’s ineffable power.