Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Wednesday, June 11th 2014, Day 3
We wake with the hint of light showing on the horizon.  Both of us slept badly.  Dad relates that the sound of water slapping the hull was loud inside the boat and kept him awake.  He remembers me getting up around 2 am to get a jacket from the cabin. 

It is obvious now that there is a limit to the Holder’s cabin in regard to overnight camping on the boat.  Especially for two grown men.  We vow to avoid sleeping on the boat for the rest of the week.

As the sun rises over the horizon the Sea Pearl lifts anchor to get underway.  We wave.  I smile, figuring we will catch up soon enough.
In the meantime we pull out the breakfast bars and fruit cups, stretch, and repack the cabin.  Given 20’ish inches of water I step overboard to pull in the anchor and reroute the rope and anchor to the stern.  This way the helmsman can drop the anchor over the side as we approach a shore and either leave the rope tied off to the stern cleat for a stern anchor, or let loose the rope and let the anchor pull boat around from where it is tied to the bow.  It is something I have wanted to try since some of the anchoring difficulties I had while trying to single-hand and anchor in the FL120.

The Holder is lightly grounded on the keel so isn’t going nowhere.  Dad and I procrastinate getting underway by cleaning and sorting the boat to order.  I untie the furled sails and get them ready to hoist, forgoing a reef in expectation for the predicted mildest winds of the week.  Firing up the cell phone (it works!) and nav software, we go over the route for today.

The day 3 route is one of the more diverse of the trip.  With Port Aransas halfway through the day the Tx200 boats will have to select a route through a busy operational shipping port.  The first option is to stay in the ICW.  Boring!  The second option is to drift east of the ICW and take a small channel named Stingray Hole, turn right into the shipping channel, sail to another northerly channel called the Lydia Ann, and take that out into Aransas Bay.  The third route is essentially through the middle of the port via shallow miniscule channels and under an 8’ clearance bridge.  Once past the Port it is clear sailing across the bay all the way to Paul’s Mott with only a single oyster reef to navigate through when reaching our designated camp for the night.

The first route is too boring.  The third route impossible for the Holder to sail due to the 20” keel-up draft and mast height.  So the second it is!

By this time a fleet of yellow sails appears on the other side of the bridge.  It’s the Ducks!  Apparently they must have made it to Padre Island Yacht Club for the night and look to have gotten their usual 6:30’ish start.

Well that is our cue to get moving.  It takes some effort to free the Holder but not long afterwards we are under full sails and gliding along the ICW.

The morning wind is mild and pushing the boat easily along.  I give Dad a break and get some tiller time in.  The first dozen miles passes uneventfully in the ICW.  I’m looking forward to the waypoint marking our departure from the ICW and into open water on the way to Stingray Hole.

Dad takes over the helm as we near the waypoint.  The phone dings … waypoint reached!  With faith, we angle the boat to starboard … and pass uneventfully into open water.  Wooot!

So far the Sea Pearl has not been spotted.  It is a fast boat so maybe we will catch up at the port.  In the meantime we try to keep the Holder pointed on the correct heading indicated by the phone’s nav software.  Now the Holder does have a compass built into the cabin but the plastic globe is foggy amber and it is hard to read the heading.  So the phone is our nav in open water.  Luckily the solar charger seems to be keeping the phone charged without any problems.

Eventually the land closes to our starboard side.  Dead ahead is a strip of green lushed land.  Somewhere up ahead is the channel named Stingray Hole.  The channel is famous (infamous?) for draining water and grounding boats when a ship passes in the ship channel beyond.  For some reason, I have this mental image of a tiny 25’ wide cut through the green landscape ahead. 

Without ever seeing the waters and landscape we are sailing through, all we have to go by is the maps and descriptions by people that have been there.  I’ve consistently underestimated the size of the ICW, islands, waterways, etc all because of what it looks like on the maps.

Stingray Hole turns out to be just like that.  It is surprisingly wide between the two islands and looks like anyone can just sail anywhere right through it.  I resist the temptation to deviate and diligently navigate us through the Stingray Hole waypoints.  10 minutes later we make the hard right just short of the ship channel and that’s it.  After all the stories it turned out to be rather anti-climactic.  Even so, passing through Stingray Hole is a marker for the next part of the route.

On a course set a few points off close hauled, we sail down the channel.  Up until now there haven’t been any sailboats.  Yet after making the turn to parallel the channel we see a 30 footish cabin catamaran raising sails.  It is a beautiful boat.  Wide with lots of cabin, it would sleep us comfortably.  I wistfully wish we had something like that.

The cat gets underway roughly in the same direction as us.  Roughly because the captain seems to be following the shore contours more than the direct route we are on.  Even so it is with some surprise that we easily catch and pass the other boat well before the ferry crossing. Ah, the Port Aransas ferry crossing.  It is Frogger on Water.  With up to 5 or 6 ferries crossing the channel at odd intervals, a sailboat has to pick and choose the place and time to sail through.  Sure, we have the right of way.  But why rock the ferry by insisting on it?

As we close two ferries cross at the same time.  As we get closer two more start to cross.  I tell Dad to aim for the middle and we’ll pass between them shortly after they have crossed each other.  It looks good … until a third ferry launches on his run.  Opps!

Luckily we are further out than initially guessed and reach the middle of the crossing well after the third ferry has passed.  I keep an eye on the shores just in case another one decides to sneak up on us.  None do.  I think one ferry delayed his run until we are clear.

Wonder what they would have thought if the Duck flock had sailed through?

From the ferry crossing we easily keep to the ship channel’s windward side.  The brisk wind is not overpowering enough to excessively heel the boat.  Here the Holder’s outstanding pointing ability really shines to make this a no stress leg.

Reaching the buoy where all the channels come together before the gulf exit, we make the left-hand turn downwind into the Lydia Ann channel.  This is a really wide channel with a lot of traffic.  Two power boats are towing parachutes with riders (which looks like fun).  Off to the one side is a row of parked barges and tugs.  I wonder if tugboats have to take a mandatory rest break like long-haul truckers.

On the lee shore we see a lighthouse.  I’ve always loved visiting lighthouses and hit up quite a few in Florida and South Carolina.  It would have been nice to stop and visit this one but we are not sure how much longer we have to sail.  Regretfully, I make a note to visit another day.

The Lydia Ann curves to the northwest then spits us out into the beginnings of Aransas Bay.  We stay in the ICW until the phone dings the waypoint for clearing Mud Island.  With that, we strike out across the bay on a direct route to Paul’s Mott. 

Aransas Bay is big.  Maybe not on the maps but on the water it is huge.  At one time during the crossing we lose sight of land.  Although the phone is pointing us towards Paul’s Mott we end up using abandoned oil platforms as visual waypoints for the general direction we want to go.  Even when land reappears it is difficult to meld landmarks we are seeing to the maps.  We continue on with faith in the phone nav and maps. Did I mention that we have never sailed this trip before?  Heh.

We make good time across the bay.  Our next waypoint closes in and the shoreline curves to meet us.  Our last obstacle of the day waits; Long Reef.  Long Reef starts at the point of Paul’s Mott and extends across the bay to the ICW.  In that long oyster reef there seems to be only one place to cut through it; a small reportedly 4’ deep natural channel a few hundred yards off Paul’s Mott.  Even the channel depth is in question with the NOAA maps saying 4’ and the local fishing maps saying inches.  Our other option is to sail back to the ICW, go around the end of the reef, and beat back into the wind for about a couple miles.  No way!  Not when we are within a couple football fields length from the camp! We go for it … and ground right in the middle of the channel.  Cranking the keel up we find the depth is more like 3’ and slip through.  After turning right and sailing up the shoreline we finally drop sails and motor in the rest of the way.

Paul’s Mott is an oyster and shell shore.  Clumps of vegetation covered oysters lurk under the water to make walking (or sailing) into shore a chore.  Once on the shore we are greeted with seemingly millions of crushed shells extending back about 30’ish yards to a watery swamp.  Much like the first camp, there is literally no shade on that spit of land.  Just stubborn sea grasses and small dense bushes littering the land.
After getting the Holder anchored 20’ish yards off the beach, we check the watch.  It is 2:30 pm.  We made great time indeed!  But that leaves us standing on a shade-less spit of land in the middle of nowhere wondering if we are even in the correct place to begin with.  Ah well, may as well explore while waiting for another boat to show up.

Around the point and down the shoreline we find a trashy spot obviously used to dump camping trash.  Some of the stuff like appliances makes me wonder how in the heck it got out here in the first place.  It is sad when people leave trash behind where it will probably stay for years or perhaps decades.  Maybe in a future Texas 200 event all the participants could pick up a few pieces and carry it away for disposal on the mainland.

Exploration done, we set up camp chairs, grab some drinks, and gnaw on beef jerky to wait for boats to arrive.  The sun is brutal.  The hot stiff wind helps though. 

A couple hours later the first sails appear on the horizon.  Following the windward shore the Paradox easily makes it over Long Reef, turns into the wind, and eventually anchors upwind of us.  We find out that the Ducks went places that he could not follow so he struck out on his own and made good time.

From then on boats trickle in.  I’m relieved that we picked the right place to moor the boat as others make the turn to the leeside of the point.  A couple of the bigger boats go around the reef at the ICW and do the long beat up into the wind. The Ducks more or less manage to land as a group with only one having a tough time sailing upwind.

It takes some work to set up the tent in the wind.  With nothing blocking the stiff breeze, tents are getting flattened even if well staked.  Not liking a flat tent, I grab the other boat anchor and set it upwind of our tent and run lines midway up the tent poles to keep the tent upright.

Meanwhile, a group of guys grab shovels and reset the Cross.  A sentimental landmark of Paul’s Mott, the Cross had fallen down.  A hole in the seashell beach is dug and the Cross replanted upright to proudly mark and stand vigil over this storied camp.

Dusk starts to fall.  The beach is alight with fires and the smells of cooking venison.  Mmmm.  Someone brings out a cold watermelon and shares it with the rest of us.  On down the beach, the Duckers are taking a group picture for prosperity.  Not long afterwards captains and crews alike settle in for the night after a long exciting day to ready for the next part of our trek.

Thursday, June 12th 2014, Day 4
In what is becoming the norm, we wake up before 6 am.  This is not a normal thing for me.  Usually it takes alarms and a couple hits of the snooze button to finally drag my carcass out of bed.  Yet for some reason on this trip waking up that early just seems to happen.

The wind is still blowing well for the start of a predicted blustery day.  Luckily getting off shore will not be difficult with the wind coming from behind.  Our plan is to angle back towards the ICW, sail that course for a handful of miles to clear some of the shallower waters to the east, then cut out into San Antonio Bay towards Panther Cut and South Pass on the way to the abandoned Army Hole airfield.  Although not a difficult leg of the trip, we have to hit the cuts to avoid grounding.  The advantage to this route is the ability to angle across the wind towards Army Hole and avoid trying to beat into the wind from the “Air Force” channel much further down the ICW.

Unlike previous mornings we don’t linger long.  Neither did other boats.  Matt and Chris (Mariner 19) raise sails shortly after 6 am.  By the time Dad and I launch the other boat is already a good ½ to ¾ mile ahead.  After getting the jib up to get going, I start hoisting the main.

So picture this:  the boat is moving downwind on the jib alone while I try to raise the main which wants to help that jib push.  As the main goes up it gets harder to raise and wants to pull the bolt rope out of alignment with the bottom of the sail track.  So I end up winching up 6” of sail, reach over the tug the luff back in alignment, and winch up another 6”, and tug … you get the idea.

On top of all that, I decide to put a reef in while the sail is mostly raised and filled with air.  The reefed clew mightily resists my efforts to latch it on the outhaul ring.  For a comical 5 minutes the sail and I play tug of war with the clew while Dad offers “helpful” suggestions.  I finally concede the battle and decide to try something else.

By this time the Ducks have launched with a gaggle of yellow sails about a ½ mile behind.  There is no way ducks are going to pass us … I will get this sail reefed and raised!

Luckily, I planned on something like this.  Getting into the cabin and hauling out a 5 gallon bucket, I unscrew the waterproof lid and dig through our repair kit to find some premade 3’ lengths of rope with a thick bead attached to the end.  Armed with the rope I tackle the reluctant reef point by threading the rope through the eyelet and the outhaul ring and pulling it all together with a good tug.  A quick knot and tie off on a cleat and sudden we are in business!  Another minute sees the sail raised and taunt with the wind to boost us along the water. We settle in after the excitement, content for the moment to watch the Ducks fall astern.  Ahead of us though the Mariner is hauling wake with unreefed sails.  By this time they have to be at least a mile ahead and heading in the same direction we are.  I figure we will catch and pass them in the ICW.  They make the right hand turn and disappear behind some islands.

By the time we reach the ICW and make the turn the Mariner is nowhere to be seen.  Still believing we will eventually catch up, Dad and I settle in for an easy brisk sail down the ICW towards our next waypoint on the edge of San Antonio Bay.

Now that I think of it … where is the Sea Pearl?  We didn’t see it at last night’s camp.  Maybe he stopped someplace else.  Huh.  We never caught up to him yesterday either.

After cruising in the ICW for a couple hours with low islands on the right and a thin strip of land on the left, I wonder where the other boats are.  The Mariner is fast but the Holder is faster.  About that time the right side islands lower enough to reveal sails well across the bay.  Ahhhh!  There is the Matt and Chris!  They found an inner route to sail without using the ICW.  With what looks like unreefed sails, they seem to be flying over the water.  Even so, we’ve already passed them.  More than likely they will reach Army Hole first on that more direct route. I’m envious.  That inner route looks like fun and a challenge.  But the Holder’s draft, my inexperience, and never having sailed the route before are unacceptable risk factors for giving it a try this year.  Especially with my Dad on board!

So we continue cruising the ICW, making good speed, waving to the passing barges, and generally enjoying a stress free run.

The right side spoil islands start to thin out.  A quick check of the phone nav shows our ICW breakout waypoint not too far ahead. The waves start to pick up as the islands fade away to the right and we leave the protected calm waters.

In fact, the waves pick up a lot!  By the time we are within a half mile of the waypoint the boat is getting pushed about good bit.  Dad is doing a great job keeping us on track but I’m worrying about making the tack out into San Antonio Bay.  We will be on a close hauled course in high winds and beam-on waves for about 10 terrifying minutes.  If it was just me sailing I’d go for it.  But the last thing I want is a knockdown in rough unfamiliar waters while Dad is on board.

By this time readers are probably wondering about my bravery and/or courage.  We’ve changed route plans multiple times to avoid harder aspects of the trip.  And here I am looking at changing our route again just to avoid a relatively brief beat into the wind.  Some of the challenges are doable … if I was sailing by myself.  That is proven from the FL120 trip earlier in the year.  Yet the challenges are not worth doing if it means something can go wrong with my 70+ year old Dad on board.  Don’t get me wrong, we’ve seen older men sailing in worse conditions.  But those men were experienced and this is Dad’s first ever sailing trip. So in my opinion we wisely decide to continue down the ICW with the hope we can take the Air Force channel to Army Hole.  The nav software dings on the phone and points to the next waypoint we will never see. In the meantime we still have the challenge of sailing the boat in rough water.  The boat feels like it is getting tossed about as Dad works to keep it on course.  Up ahead we see a dredging operation right in the middle of the ICW.  In these seas I’m NOT comfortable with sailing between it and the buoy marking the channel.  We angle out of the ICW to windward and hope the boat won’t ground.  The wind and waves are really making the Holder bob and jump around.  This is the roughest sailing yet on the trip. 

Coming from the other direction are two more boats.  We hear the back and forth on the VHF as they coordinate the pass with the dredge.  The other sailboat asks if they can go outside the channel.  The dredge operator recommends no.  Ah … right.  So guess where are we?  On the outside of the channel already.

We press onward and make the pass to slide back into the ICW with a partial sigh of relief.  The water is still rough but at least it is clear sailing.

It is a long run on the edge of the bay until the islands reappear on the right.  The water smooths out and we relax for the first time in hours.  The phone nav shows the Panther Cut waypoint that we will never reach off to the right.  I regret not giving the planned route a try and hope to give it a go next year.

Not long afterwards, the backup battery for the phone charger dies and the phone shortly afterward leaving us with hardcopy maps for the rest of the day.

With course now set (where else can we go in the ICW?), we cruise and eventually catch up to a barge.  Now this is a first … we get to pass a barge going in the same direction.  At this point the ICW is relatively narrow, leaving us with something like 30 yards of sailable water between the barge and shallow shoreline.  I urge Dad to keep is as close to the right shore as possible.  On the VHF I tell the tug our intention to pass to his starboard.  He does not answer.

The pass takes about 30 minutes.  Talk about slow motion!  At about 2 - 3 mph faster than the barge, we get to see every detail of the tug and barges it is pushing.  The wind drops off very briefly once that lets the barge pick up a handful of yards on us.  Dad also angles us away from shore another few feet when the boat brushes the bottom.

What goes through the tug captain’s mind at those moments?  There is a sailboat slowly passing your tug on nothing but wind power.  Is it annoyance at being passed by a sailboat?  Or perhaps hope that the sailboat captain does nothing wrong in the narrow channel to cause an accident.  Perhaps simple indifference having been a captain long enough to have already seen and experienced it all.  Whatever his thought, the tug never contacts us on the VHF and we pass uneventfully.

By this time it is early afternoon.  Some really nice houses appear on the left shore.  It looks like an expensive subdivision complete with a water channel that goes back amongst the houses.  That would be a nice place to live.

A few hundred yards later we pass a narrow shallow looking channel on the right with a single lone green marker in it.  I don’t think anything of it … until a few minutes later upon realizing that the channel might be the one we need.  A quick review of the hardcopy maps shows that it is indeed Air Force channel heading out to Army Hole.

Now I use the term “Air Force” channel because that seems to be the name most often used on the VHF.  The channel name is nowhere on the maps.  Which begs another question: Why is an old air force base named Army Hole?  A mystery!

Ok, we passed our exit.  Unfortunately there is a dredging boat coming towards us so we have wait until it passes to turn around.  A few hundred yards behind us is the barge we passed earlier plus another small fishing boat.  For such a long stretch of water there sure are a lot of boats in one spot!

After letting all the traffic clear the area and getting back to the channel, Dad points us into the channel … and we promptly ground. Grrr!  Ok.  Time to drop sails, winch up the keel, and proceed on motor all the way to Army Hole.  The little 3.5 hp motor starts right up and off we go!

Or we try to go.  The wind is fierce in our faces.  The Holder crawls through the channel at 3 mph.  Off to one side in very shallow water is one of those flat fishing boats we saw at Port Mansfield.  They pretty much ignore us and continue fishing as we motor slowly by.

Clearing the channel, the waves build up to hit us bow on adding yet more resistance against the wind.  The boat slows to 1 or 2 mph with the bow riding up and down the waves and the wind blasting us dead square in the face.  Dad notices a splash of water inside the boat.  He investigates and states that the boat is taking on water.  Surprised, I ask if the water is coming up through the keel well.  He confirms yes.  Apparently the waves and heading of the boat was enough to splash water up through the keel well with each wave.  Huh.

At this rate it will take us hours to cross the few miles to Army Hole and a lot more gas than we have on board.  We confer and agree to skip Army Hole and head back into the ICW to mull options.  Minutes after turning back the motor sputters and quits … out of gas … as if to confirm that we made the right choice.

Refueled, we motor back into the ICW and beach on shore near the channel to await a possible tow out to Army Hole.

There is one particular boat that can easily tow us out.  Kevin and his big sailboat is the envy of those that want to sail in luxury.  With a huge roomy cabin, built in toilet, galley, and something like a 50 horse outboard motor for times when sails are not enough, a long trip is … dare I say it … comfortable.

When Kevin appears and drops sails to motor by, I try raising him on the VHF.  Unfortunately we have a failure to communicate and we miss our chance to make it to camp.  Not Kevin’s fault.  The sound of the motor would make it hard to hear the VHF. 

A couple more Tx200 boats come by as we mull options.  They are nice enough to stop to make sure we are ok.  One suggests motoring through the channel and beating upwind under sail to Army Hole.  Any other trip I would do just that.  But not this trip for reasons stated earlier in this narrative.

A barge passes by.  Which is cool until the water drains away leaving the Holder resting on wet sand.  This is NOT cool!  I cringe at 1400 pounds of boat sitting on that mostly retracted keel pressing up inside the hull.  The water rushes back and we brace the boat to keep it from getting pushed closer to shore.  Luckily, doesn’t seem to be any damage from the event.

Deciding to just keep going until finding a place to camp Dad and I push off, drop keel, and raise sails.  He is on the helm again while we sail further down the ICW.  It isn’t long until the houses and buildings cover the mainland side of the channel.  Unfortunately there doesn’t look to be anyplace we can camp or even tie up to for the evening.  The channel narrows even more.  Traffic increases, from pleasure fishing boats to more barges.  For the first time it feels claustrophobic.

Seeing open water ahead, I quickly realize that we have reached Port O’Conner.  Checking the distance on the hardcopy maps and seeing it was only mid-afternoon, Dad and I decide to continue on all the way to Magnolia Beach.

I quickly review our Day 5 route and explain what we have to do to Dad.  We must clear the jetties and then some to avoid the shallow waters along shore.  Actually, the shallow water extends for thousands of feet from the shoreline.  The safest bet is to sail at least halfway between shore and the ICW markers then set a course towards green marker 45 and enter the channel to ensure we make it through a spoil area between us and Magnolia Beach.  Halfway between markers 53 and 55 we angle left straight for the beach and our final destination.

We clear the jetties as planned, moving from the ICW’s smooth waters into tall Matagorda Bay waves.  With the wind coming off our starboard beam it is an energetic sail indeed.  The waves must be at least 5 – 6 foot range.  The boat is uncomfortable.  Well, more accurately the people inside the boat are uncomfortable.  The Holder itself has put up with some rough conditions without a hiccup.  Maybe I need more faith.

Anyway, we make the NW turn early to avoid sailing crosswind any longer.  The channel markers are well out away from us.  The boat smooths out as it runs dead downwind.  The waves are coming from behind hitting the boat off the left rear corner and lifting us up and down.  The wind is dead behind making the jib useless for the most part.  After a while I take the jib down and we continue on reefed main.
Apparently that early turn wasn’t out far enough to avoid grounding the boat.  I winch the keel up about halfway before the boat is freed and Dad steers it further away from shore.  Once it is deep enough again, the keel goes down and we decide to angle out towards the ship channel and run parallel just outside of the green markers.

Did I mention the tall waves?  Surfing waves is exhilarating!  I’m sure the boat hits its highest speeds of the entire trip on a few of those waves! Until one massive wave picks us up and tries to turn us sideways.  The Holder heels hard, the rudder loses bite, and the boat turns beamwise to the wave.  Suddenly I find myself sitting in the bottom of the boat and twisted about to help Dad who is sitting on the other side of the cockpit pushing (pulling for me) the tiller in an effort to straighten us out before the Holder broaches.  Luck holds and the wave passes under us, sitting the boat upright and letting us turn it back downwind.  For the rest of long miles in the channel we are nervous and jittery.

While passing through the spoil area at marker 53 we are amazed to see two young kayakers tied up to the channel marker and fishing.  One calls out to ask if we have a depth finder to which I reply “Sorry!”  We speed by them and yet again I am bemused with the things we used to do in our youth.   Kayaking thousands feet offshore in those waves in nothing but a very small paddle powered boat to fish?  Not me!  Never mind we just sailed 170+ miles in four days!

Halfway to the next marker, Dad tugs on the tiller to angle left towards Magnolia Beach.  I point out the pavilions where the shrimp boil is supposed to be held tomorrow afternoon.  As the boat moves towards shore, I gradually winch up the keel until it is full up.  Surprisingly the Holder doesn’t misbehave with all that weight pulled up.  30 yards from shore I tell Dad to run parallel with the beach.

Here is where that inadvertent beach walk last Sunday pays off.  Knowing the layout of the beach, I spy the boat ramp easily enough.  Dad angles out to clear the small rock jetty and glides the boat to the boat ramp dock as I drop the mainsail.  Again it looks like we know what we are doing with how smoothly it goes.  Hopping on the dock, I tie up the Holder fast and breathe a sigh of relief.

We made it!  A day earlier than expected but we are at Magnolia Beach!  There is no welcoming or clapping crowd but we are happy all the same.  Four days on a small sailboat covering 170+ miles in brutal heat, high winds, and sometimes rough seas.  Even if our boat is no 8’ Duck, we still know it is an accomplishment for two new’ish sailors.

Dad and I load the boat on the trailer and de-rig.  As the gear starts to get packed I notice another set of sails closing in on the beach.  Turns out the pretty Victoria elected to do the same as us and bypass Army Hole to complete the trip.  Another boat would trickle in later too.

Altogether, four boats finish early.  We heard the Sea Pearl that was last seen on Wednesday morning had stayed in the ICW and pushed through to finish even earlier than us.

After finding what was perhaps the very last rentable room in Magnolia Beach, Dad and I celebrate by getting dinner and crashing in air conditioned bliss for the night.

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