All this hoo-haa reminds me of an anchorage I was at a couple of years ago.
We were safely anchored in Ft. Jefferson, the Dry Tortugas. It took us a couple of weeks to get here, we had arrived just in time. We dropped the hook as a storm was brewing to our south. (We were west of Key West)
Anyhow, it was a rough night. Lot's of lightning, wind, heavy rain. We bounced on the heavy anchor chain, and in the soft sand, even drug a bit.
The storm was abating in the early morning as the sun was coming up. I was up on deck with my morning coffee. The Admiral (wife) joined me and said, "Hey, nobody's supposed to running a boat in there!" pointing over towards the fort.
That was true, it's an exclusion/protected zone. But there it was, a black inflatable with a 35HP outboard on the back. Had to be 8 or 10 people in that rubber boat.
What the....?
They beached the boat and jumped onto shore. They did a whole bunch of hugging and it looked like a couple of them were crying. That must have been one hell of a storm they survived. They were all dressed in the classic white Cuban pants and shirts.
So, here come the National Park Police with weapons and what not. They took all the people into custody, who seemed pretty darn happy about it.
Once I heard the Cuban words floating across the anchorage I had this figured out pretty quickly.
They had abandoned everything. Everyone else they left behind. Not enough room in the boat for belongings. Probably only a gallon or two of water and some scraps of food. These people left their home with...
wait for it... the shirts on their backs. Nothing else.
What hell must they have left? They entered the Gulf stream from Cuba in a nasty storm. It's the best time, the Coast Guard (Ours and the Cuban Navy) don't go out in that kind of weather. And if they do, they don't see much. So, it's a good time to make an escape.
With a compass, in a storm, heavy seas, night, 90 miles, and miss any one of these little islands by a mile or two on either side, and you learn about rationing what little you have left to stay alive while watching your friends die. Unless you are one of the luckier ones and die first.
So, happy they were. Crying, hugging, it looked like one fellow even knelt down and kissed the ground. The biggest problem the US Coast Guard had upon arrival was not getting hugged by their prisoners.
So, off they went, on a USCG boat headed for Miami. Death was risked, and beaten. They were now on the best soil on the planet. Hopes and dreams ahead, agony behind.
I sipped my coffee and counted my blessings for being born where I was.
