Southernmost

I went to the Keys pretty well convinced I wasn't a water person.

We stayed on a lonely spit of land between Coupon Bight and the Atlantic, with iguanas doing their dinosaur scuttle through the backyard and key deer venturing close enough to pet. Deterred for the first few days by rough and persistent winds blowing off the backside of Hurricane Debby, we stayed onshore, paddling through the mangroves and fishing inside the protective islands. I learned how to snorkel behind the house and how to clean the shiny little fish we caught, slicing off paltry filets before tossing the remains back in the canal for our resident barracuda.

An odd juxtaposition 

The choppy seas eventually subsided and the Ennii eagerly loaded up the boat for long days in the deep, trolling (fruitlessly, alas) for many hot hours in hopes of catching bigger fish than I could imagine. I slathered on sunscreen and ogled the porpoise and flying fish and a solitary sea turtle.

Boat and boy. Obviously I didn't take many pictures. 

Water in my previous estimation was for clumsily splashing around in. The beaches of vacation provide only brief entertainment and the lakes of home are diverting but offer fewer amusements than dry land. But the Ennis clan is very sea savvy and came well-equipped, and I think that made all the difference. With the proper toys--with snorkeling gear and kayaks and a real fishing boat with outriggers and an able and appropriately white-bearded captain--I loved the water. I guess the same case could be made with anything: snowboarding, mountain biking, parasailing, whatever. The toys make a world of difference.

Yeah, it was good.