Showing posts with label beachcombing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beachcombing. Show all posts

Thursday, October 11, 2018

Mañana doesn't mean tomorrow ..... it's just means not today! Updated Oct 2018


2014 Oct 7th, buoy headed our way
At sunrise, on October 7th 2014, I noticed a small green light blinking on the ocean just south of our house, flashing on and off at regular intervals.  

Well, that needs to be investigated. My camera has a decent lens, so I zoomed in for a better look; it was a huge marker buoy drifting free, and bobbing its way north towards our beach. 

2014 Oct 7th, buoy rolling across coral

Fifteen minutes later, it ran aground, tipped over, and ponderously rolled in the waves until it was stuck about twenty feet from shore. We emailed a friend who knew how to contact the naval base to advise them of the problem.  

A group of marinas (sailors) arrived, a non-commissioned officer and his crew, to check out the buoy.  

Then the sleek navy cutter arrived, cruising back and forth in the deep water on the other side of the reef, unable to hook a line on the buoy due to the increased size of the waves and the shallow water inside the reef. 

2014, waiting for a decision   
The weather turned foul, so we invited the guys to take shelter on our patio, offering them coffee and snacks while they waited for a decision from the higher-ups. 

The navy bosses were in communication with the harbour master, and two employees arrived mid-afternoon to check the situation.  

2014 Oct 7th, removing the valuable beacon



One lucky guy was designated to retrieve the valuable GPS beacon. The ocean is very warm in October, but dressed in protective gear, it was a bit of a struggle for him to wade into the thigh-deep water and remove the heavy beacon, still transmitting its location at 21 14.5 N and 86 44.1 W.  

It is a good thing the beacon was removed, or we could have had ships trying to take a position reading off our house.  We envisioned an unscheduled cruise ship visit, similar to the Costa Concordia that ran aground in Italy in 2012.
2014 October 7th, Marinas and Lynda
By noon, we were serving ham or chicken sandwiches to the onshore crew, complete with a choice of coffee or pop and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. It was a pretty good gig, hanging out with us while the jejes decide what to do with the marker buoy. Around three in the afternoon, the officer in charge flashed us a big, friendly smile and said that the weather had become too rough and the cutter couldn't pull the marker buoy back out to sea. 

2014 Oct 7th, Sparky on left, Tommy on right 

“We’ll come back mañana, or when the weather calms down,” he assured us. 

“Si, claro. Okay, no problem.”
  
Smiles and handshakes all around, and everyone departed: October 7th 2014.  

Yep, four years ago last week, and we still have a huge piece of rusting scrap iron rolling around in our neighbourhood. 

2015 October 11th, still waiting for removal
Starting in 2014, I took annual photos of the life and times of the navigational buoy.

For the first few weeks, the air stank of rotting sea creatures, until our neighbours helpfully hired a young friend to scrape the dying barnacles and mussels from the exposed bottom.  

So how big is this thing?  It has a six-foot diameter, and without wading into the water with a tape measure to get the exact measurements, we think it is about fifteen to eighteen feet tall.  It’s big and it’s heavy.

October 2016, pointed straight at our casa. 
We had considered decorating it up for various holiday celebrations:  Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Independence Day. 

We have had friends offer to paint it with cool designs. One graffiti 'artist' did add his tag, but thankfully, the weather removed the mess within a few weeks.

No one was allowed to remove, move it, or even consider cutting it up.  It is federal property, but the feds don’t want it, the navy doesn’t want it, and the harbour master doesn’t want it.  

2017 waves from Hurricane Irma 
The first week or two that the buoy was here, it moved around a bit, a little to the north, a little to the south, ever closer to shore until it is now half out of the water and stuck between two rocky outcroppings. 

Our biggest concern is not aesthetics, but safety. A big storm could turn it into a missile and shoot it straight at our house, knocking out walls and ripping down support columns. Or, conversely, it could be swept out to sea during a hurricane, becoming a dangerous navigational hazard, unlit, unmarked, and big enough to punch a hole in a large ship.

2017 waves, Hurricane Irma, Florida
We know it is not the fault of the folks who work for the navy or the harbour master. 

We have the greatest respect for them. They are willing and helpful. 

The decision came from higher up the pay-scale ladder. It was just not in the budget.  

2017 October TS Nate now at Punta Piedra
In September 2017, when Hurricane Irma turned away from us, towards Florida, we had several days of big waves. 

We watched with trepidation as the buoy pounded against the three-foot-high ridge of coral and sand protecting our house from the floating hunk of metal. 

At sundown, it was pointed like a missile right at our casa. When we checked again at sunrise, it had bounced over the rocks, moving north and stopping on the beach. 

2017 Oct, Amy, Punta Piedra, decorated
A short time later, Tropical Storm Nate moved the buoy a little further north to Punta Piedra's beach. 

Amy Canto decided to have fun with it, instead of obsessing over the unsightly hunk of metal. She made a 'man' by stuffing a pair of pants and a shirt with sargassum seaweed. His head was a round white fishing float, with a sombrero plopped on top.

Juan sat in an old beach chair inside the buoy with his bottle of tequila and a plastic Halloween pumpkin. He provided lots of chuckles for her guests, until another storm washed him away. I found pieces of Juan all along the beach: pants, a hat, and a head. Amy reassembled him, but the winter storms just wouldn't leave the poor guy alone. Eventually, he disappeared. 

2018 Oct 8th, moved during Hurricane Michael. 
Then, on October 7th 2018, the weather forecast predicted that Michael, a Category 1 Hurricane, would pass between Isla and Cuba. The worrying and wondering started again. Where would the damn buoy land this time? 

Fortunately for us, Hurricane Michael skidded past Isla Mujeres, doing very little damage, but it was a Category 5 by the time it battered the Florida panhandle. All we can do is hope everyone is safe, healthy, and only a little wet. 

The remnants of the navigational buoy are a tattered shell of the heavy structure that arrived four years ago, but it is still capable of floating. We currently have a disturbance forming just south of Mexico, and Tropical Storm Nadine in the mid-Atlantic. Hurricane season doesn't end until November 1st, and then we can breathe a sigh of relief. 

In the meantime, Mañana doesn’t mean tomorrow; it just means not today.


Murder and mayhem
Revenge and romance
Isla Mujeres Mysteries
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Death in the Vineyards Mysteries
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Friday, October 16, 2015

Mañana doesn’t mean tomorrow, it just means not today.


Thomas, What the heck is that thing?
Huh!  What the heck is that?

Close to sunrise, I noticed a small green light blinking on the ocean just south of our house, flashing on and off at regular intervals. Well, that needs to be investigated. Our camera has a decent lens, so I zoomed in for a better look; it was a huge marker buoy drifting free, and bobbing its way north towards our beach. 

Fifteen minutes later, it ran aground, tipped over, and ponderously rolled in the waves until it was stuck about twenty feet from shore.  

We emailed a friend who knew how to contact the naval base to advise them of the problem.  


The buoy tipped over and rolled across the coral
A group of marinas (sailors) arrived, a non-commissioned officer with his crew, to check out the buoy.  

Then the sleek navy cutter arrived, cruising back and forth in the deep water on the other side of the reef, unable to hook a line on the buoy due to the increased size of the waves and the shallow water inside the reef. 



Waiting for a decision from the big bosses
The weather turned foul, so we invited the guys to take shelter on our patio, offering them coffee and snacks while they waited for a decision from higher up. The navy bosses were in communication with the harbour master, and two employees arrived mid-afternoon to check the situation.  

One lucky guy was designated to retrieve the valuable GPS beacon.  The ocean is very warm in October, but dressed in protective gear, it was a bit of a struggle for him to wade into the thigh-deep water and remove the heavy beacon, still transmitting its location at 21 14.5 N and 86 44.1 W. It is a good thing the beacon was removed, or we could have had ships trying to take a position reading off our house. We envisioned an unscheduled cruise ship visit similar to the Costa Concordia that ran aground in Italy in 2012.

 
Removing the valuable beacon.
By now, we were serving ham and chicken sandwiches to the on-shore crew, complete with a choice of coffee or pop. It is a pretty good gig, hanging out with us while the jejes decide what to do with the marker buoy. Around three in the afternoon, the officer in charge flashed us a big, friendly smile and said that the weather had become too rough and the cutter was not going to be able to pull the marker buoy back out to sea. 

Oct 7th 2014 - before beacon was removed

“We’ll come back mañana, or when the weather calms down,” he assured us. 

“Si, claro. Okay, no problem.”  

Smiles and handshakes all around, and everyone departed: October 7th, 2014.

Yep, a year ago last week, and we are still looking at the rusting bottom side of a huge piece of scrap iron.  For the first few weeks, the air stank of rotting sea creatures, until our neighbours helpfully hired a young friend to scrape the dying barnacles and mussels from the exposed bottom.  So how big is this thing? It has a six-foot diameter, and without wading into the water with a tape measure to get the exact measurements, we think it is about fifteen to eighteen feet tall. It’s big and it’s heavy.

October 11th, 2015 - still waiting
We have considered decorating it up for various holiday celebrations:  Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day and Independence Day.  We have had friends offer to paint it with cool designs. But no one will remove, or move it, or even consider cutting it up.  It is federal property, but the feds don’t want it, the navy doesn’t want it, and the harbour master doesn’t want it.  The first week or two that the buoy was here, it moved around a bit, a little to the north, a little to the south, ever closer to shore until it is now half out of the water and stuck between two rocky outcroppings. Our biggest concern is not aesthetics, but safety. A big storm could turn this thing into a missile and shoot it straight at our house, knocking out walls and ripping down support columns.  Or, conversely, it could be swept out to sea during a hurricane, becoming a dangerous navigational hazard, unlit, unmarked, and big enough to punch a hole in a large ship. 

One of several large plastic pontoons
We know it is not the fault of the great folks who work for the Navy or the harbour master.  We have always had the greatest respect for them.  They are willing and helpful. The decision came from higher up the pay-scale ladder.  It is just not in the budget.  

Well, then, allow a scrap dealer to cut it up and make a few bucks; it certainly is not going to be put back in service, damaged and dented from a year of rolling back and forth between two rocks. It’s a win-win situation.  We get rid of a safety hazard, and a local person could make a few bucks salvaging the scrap.

A recent Cuban refugee boat near Casa Coral
Oh, and we have a couple of other little items that could be tossed into the salvage mix: several fifteen-foot long, by two feet around tubes of hard black plastic that were the pontoons for a Cuban refugee boat a year ago, now scattered along the eastern side of the island; plus another recent Cuban refugee boat that is currently lodged in the rocks near Casa Coral disintegrating in the waves.  We love old marine stuff, anchors, old ships, and other marine artifacts, just not half-sunk vessels that are capable of causing major damage.  

Hopefully, our “artifact” will eventually be removed, but as we discovered several years ago, Mañana doesn’t mean tomorrow; it just means not today.

Hasta Luego
Lynda, Lawrie, Sparky, and Thomas

Awesome bunch of guys!

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Friday, November 4, 2011

What the heck is that?


2005, the first encounter with a Hermit Crab
One beautiful star-lit evening, we were enjoying a glass of wine on the beach with family members. I heard a strangled yelp from my spouse.  Something large and round, about the size of my fist, was cruising along the sand. When exposed to the camera's flash, it turned out to be a large hermit crab, out looking for a tasty late-night dinner. Pretty cool creature. And so began my fascination with hermit crabs.

It's a fascination that has become an obsession, an obsession sparked by a casual comment of a guest at a nearby rental property. Apparently, once the minuscule hermit crab babies leave the ocean to live on land, they are constantly on the lookout for new shells. They are unable to grow their own shells and must find progressively larger shells that have been discarded or washed up on the beach.  
Water, some cat food - and they will come!
She suggested that I leave a variety of shells in one location for the crabs to choose from, and they might switch for something bigger or better. We did that and very shortly discovered that the word was out in the hermit crab world, finding a dozen or so crabs checking out the shells on a nightly basis. From then on, every shelling foray onto the beach was based on finding only perfect shells for hermit crabs, adding them to the Crab-i-tat. (Yes, I have named the location where I stockpile shells, drinking water and occasionally food for the hermit crabs.)
The best shells for hermit crabs
The best shells for crab houses are the ones that hermit crabs will have a hard time resisting. The 'crème de la crème' of hermit crab shells have a smooth mother-of-pearl interior, nice heft, perfect coil to the right (who knew a hermit crab could tell left from right?) The mother-of-pearl is easy on the soft abdominal skin, while the thickness of the shell insulates the crab from predators and temperature extremes. The shells must be intact, with no holes, as the crab needs to carry water inside the shell to maintain its health.

Broken, holed, plastic bottle caps, trade-ins.
The worst shells are the ones that a crab will cast off, in a heartbeat. These shells are uncomfortable because they are thin-walled and do not offer much protection from the elements, or perhaps the coil of the shell is awkward for the crab to maneuver, or has a rough interior, or there are holes in the shell. I have had a variety of weird things left behind as a hermit crab castoff - the funniest being a broken bottle neck with a metal screw-on cap still attached. In the crab's world, it's a bit like trading in a rusty, broken-down camper-van for the new top-of-the-line bus-style RV.
Went walk-about from our house to our friends, 10 lots north
After a few months of supplying crab houses, I started marking the shells that I supplied with red, purple, blue or orange nail polish so that I could keep track of "my" hermit crabs.  We have had various neighbours, including friends who live 10 lots north of our house, tell us that they saw one of the marked large hermit crabs on their property. Ten lots may not sound like much, but when you are the size of an orange - crawling that distance with your house on your back is a pretty big adventure.
Two hermit crabs stealing a quick snack from our cats' kibble
Fortunately, the cats don't bother the hermit crabs because they are no fun to harass - merely snapping back into their shells with a loud clack when poked by a furry paw. My little Mexican cat, Chica, delights in slapping the crabs (like mini hockey pucks) along the patio in the evenings. Occasionally, a crab or two will wander into our house looking for cat food or a refreshing bath in the cats' water dish. This does not sit well with our two spoiled felines.
The embarrassing part of this whole fascination is that I can no longer keep up with shells from beach combing. We have in excess of 300 crabs visiting the Crab-a-tat regularly. I now have a local shell supplier who makes house calls once a month to restock my supplies, and various friends have dropped off donations of shells that they have found!
It's a little out of hand, but what the heck, it's a harmless obsession.
Hasta pronto, Lynda and Lawrie
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The humble beginnings and true life tale of Sparky, hero of the Isla Mujeres Mysteries: Chapter 11

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