What really happened . . .

In my previous post I thanked the captain and crew of the Jill L for taking my sweetlove out to his resting ground. Well, to be honest, I made that post the night before we were supposed to make the trip, and, well, the trip just never came off. I couldn't get hold of the captain to cement any plans, and I took yet another day off from work waiting for something to happen. I finally gave up and went down to the dock to look around for someone I recognized. While there were many boats there whose names I knew, I only saw one boat with a crew on board, and I didn't know any of them. I'm sure Steve did. But it has been ions since I had been down to the docks, and with all the restrictions and such that have been forced on the fishing community here, many of the boats I knew have been sold or are just no longer here. The same for the people. Time was, when I went to the docks I knew almost everyone, captains and crews. Where years ago I felt comfortable and amongst friends, today I felt like a stranger in a strange land.

I was just about to give up totally and go home when this tall guy with gray/red hair walked by me. Finally, someone I knew! Mark Twynam, the former owner of Triangle Fisheries. I introduced myself and explained what I wanted to do, and (bless his heart) he offered to take Steve out bike and all. I gave him my phone # and he called a couple of days later and we set a date - Oct. 1st - and a time - 5 PM. He also said I could bring somebody along if I wanted.

And so, me and my entourage of Bob (Steve's younger brother), and his partner, Debra, met Mark and his wife, Helen, at the Captain Easy, Mark's boat. The weather was beautiful and clear and there was a light chop on the water. We made Steve's last pass under the bridge while Bob was taking the cooler off the back of the bike. He figured Steve must have been messing with him because everytime he thought he had every nail and screw out, there would be one more holding the cooler fast to the bike! Eventually Bob won, Mark found a spot not too far off the beach and sort of in line with our house, and, as you can see from the pictures, the bike along with Steve's ashes, hat, and sunglasses was jetisoned over the side to the tune of Billy Idol singing Rebel Yell! He is at rest at 2746.92N latitude 8248.65W longitude.

Helen took most of the pics, and if those who know me don't quite recognize me, it's because I died my hair. Now, they call me Pomegranate!!

As we started back to the dock, Bob was giving Steve one last wave, and Helen said "did you see that?" I must have had my back turned, because Helen said that just as Bob waved a huge dolphin jumped out of the water! I'm sorry I didn't see it, and, unfortunately, the camera had already been put away - but I'd like to think that dolphin was letting us know that everything was okay.

And that is what really happened. My most heartfelt thanks go out to Mark and Helen for taking time out of their busy day to do that for Steve.

Take care. K (aka Mad Beach Maven)