Saturday, 7 February 2015

February 6, 2015

Today was occupied mostly with final arrangements for my purchase of the little skiff.  Waited until about 2 pm for the owner to come by  the marina to sign the transfer documents.  While waiting for him to arrive, I was told that most of the marina staff had been occupied the whole day with the salvage of a shrimper, which had sunk out on the gulf.  I strolled down to the ramp where said shrimper was just being loaded aboard a trailer.  This vessel was the sorriest piece of marine creation I have ever seen.  About 32 ft LOA, it had an unpainted plywood superstructure.  There were no windows; just cut-outs for them.  There was all manner of debris on the aft deck.

The real problem was that the trailer could not get down the ramp far enough to get well positioned under the boat.  Mostly, that was because the marina owner didn't want to back the truck in too far, as to do so would have gotten his brakes into salt water; ie., new brakes!  So they backed it in until the water was an inch or so below the brake rotors and then used a come along to coax that sucker onto the trailer.  This process took about an hour and when the little ford 1500 finally managed to pull the load out, there was quite a cheer for the assembled multitude!

OK, back to the skiff.  Once the marina staff were back on station, we completed the paperwork, and their lead mechanic, Rich, hauled it to our winter home.  It looked pretty fine in our driveway!

We celebrated by dining out at the Upper Deck, a place just around the corner which sits on the bank of the Weeki Wachee river.  Gorgeous location, great ambiance, uninspiring food and lousy service.  In fact, it took so long to get our bill that we walked out without paying.  Which certainly got the attention of our server!  She came running out onto the parking lot waving the bill.  I pulled up and politely pointed out that we had waited way to long; hence our departure.  She apologized all over the place, took my credit card and came back likity split.  Too little, too late.  No tip honey.


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