
When it comes to Christmas decorations, no one can say we don’t make an effort.
Young’uns
Football & Puzzle Day


Dry Tortugas

Trying to sculpt out a rough draft of The Improbable Sea Dogs of St. Croix North, I’ve been thinking a lot about Dry Tortugas. Back in the mid-90s, when my family and I were learning how to ocean sail, we considered this our “Apollo moon shot.”
Borrowing from President Kennedy’s infamous 1961 Moon Mission speech, I announced to my family in 1997:
“I believe that we should commit to achieving the goal, before the year is out, of landing on Dry Tortugas and returning safely to the Charlotte Harbor. No single sailing project will be more exciting, or more impressive to our family, or more important… and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish.
We choose to sail to Dry Tortugas this year and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win.”
Well, maybe I didn’t use those exact words, but it was something equally inspirational, I’m sure.
For those of you who may not know, Dry Tortugas is a small, isolated archipelago of the Florida Keys, some 70-miles west of Key West (and 100-miles north of Havana). For us, it was a 150-mile “offshore” excursion — waaaay out of my OSHA-orientated comfort zone. Let’s see: two Minnesota-born landlubbers, one teen, one pre-teen, a water-hating cat, on a 35-foot sloop far from the sight of land, trying to find a tiny, distant target without the benefit of GPS.
I realize that to big league sailors, this is nothing. Heck, we live down the road from Robin Graham, who solo circumnavigated the globe in a 23-foot sailboat when he was 16 year old (immortalized in the 1974 film, The Dove). But he grew up around sailboats and the ocean. To us “pond-canoe-paddlers,” ocean sailing was very foreign, indeed.
Yet, we were determined to imprint our feet in the sands of Dry Tortugas. So, we boldly chose to go, “not because it was easy, but because (for us) it was hard!”



The Humble Adventurers
On President Day weekend 2002 we purchased a house, that sits atop (what is known as) Political Hill, from the Bushes. True. This, back when “W” was in office. And since that time, we have been good friends with these non-political Bushes.
Although they did not look it at first glance, David & Rose Mary Bush were adventurers. Following their bliss of travel and photography (and videography), they modeled how to live the ultimate, fulfilling retirement — motorhoming, sometimes annually, from the Arctic Circle to Key West. They were enamored by bears, birds, crashing waves, and majestic mountains, and they went to get lengths to find them. They would patiently wait for hours, days, weeks to get that “right shot” — sometimes enduring considerable discomfort. But they loved it and they were tough. And they did it later in life than anyone we had ever known. Their drive and passion kept them young and strong.
But more than adventurous, they were models of loving mutual respect. We admired them, greatly.
Their long ride has sadly ended. Rose Mary passed away yesterday, just four months after David. It seems like such a short time ago that they were active and healthy — seemingly with inexhaustible vigor. Now they are gone.
Of course, they live on in our many memories. And, I like to think they still have a presence in our house (their house) atop Political Hill.
May their adventures together forever continue.

Firegirl
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