Reef by Chris Douglas

Reef by Chris Douglas

Last night I dreamt I visited Looe Key for the thousandth time. It was early morning and the sun was just barely visible over the horizon. Orange color was refracting off the the ripples on the bay. Some palm trees were rustling above, as a balmy breeze came upon the island. Gray clouds floated slowly south casting their ominous shadows over the water. Today seemed a little bit strange for a summer day in the Florida Keys.

From my dock Looe Key is about five miles offshore. I lowered my boat into the water and switched the engine on. I looked behind me as I backed off the lift. The cockpit at the stern of the boat was dirty like it had not been used for years. The fiberglass had yellowed from sun- damage. In front of me, the labyrinth of canals, which I have navigated for years, did not seem the same to me. Most of the trees and plants which had once thrived here along the seawall were dead, shriveled, and unkempt. Looking into the water, I wasn't able to see very far. The water was murky and brown. As I approached the channel, I hoped the open ocean would appear better than what I have observed thus far.

I noticed that most of the channel markers were broken or missing as I pushed the boat onto a plane. Passing the rusty marker 50A, the waves became larger and larger, eventually climbing over the bow. The waves did not create a problem though because, like all dreamers, I adapted to my surroundings. My vessel passed through the monstrous waves like a ghost through a wall. It became hard to see my heading with water encompassing the deck. I climbed up the tall tuna tower and gazed into the distance over the towering waves and saw the shoal marker atop Looe Key. The reef slowly became closer as I progressed towards it with astonishing speed. I approached the reef and took the boat off plane. The unforgiving ocean still had not let up by this time and unlike my memories of the reef, there