Captain Joe

Two years ago my wife and I flew into Miami and rented a car to travel around the state. This road trip was designed for us to check out all the coastal towns on both sides of the state. We headed north from Miami up the Atlantic coast. We visited old towns and new ones as well during our week of exploring.

After finishing the tours of beaches, towns and circling the state, we were about a day out from turning in the rental car and flying out. Looking at our way back to Miami, something on the map caught our attention. It was an area in Southwest Florida that claimed to be a national park of 10,000 islands. That sounded amazing to us, so we tried to book a last minute tour in the area. All the tours we came across were fully booked. We didn’t know what to do. We then came across a tour company that said they had an opening. We gladly booked online, paid double the going rate and was sent instructions on what to do and where to meet up.

After putting the GPS directions in the car, we were about an hour away and that was also the departure time of the tour. We hoped for good traffic as we slightly sped towards this already paid for tour. That hour driving to the tour meeting spot was stressful. We luckily arrived with only a few minutes to spare. The meeting place was a heavily jungled area with no sight of water or boats. A bait shop stood on stilts in the trees. It was our meeting point. Actually, it was the ramadas near the bait shop. I parked the rental car but saw no other cars around. There was one, but I assumed it was the bait shop employee’s vehicle. This couldn’t be it. Where were all the other tour guests that would be departing with us. We opened our phones to double check our information. We had no cell phone coverage. Had we driven out of Florida?

I walked up the stairs to the bait store entrance. I stepped inside. A lone man sat behind the counter and seemed to be working on something like a motor. I asked him if I was in the right place for the tour. He said yes, just wait by the ramada. I thanked him although he was not that reassuring, and went back outside. Looking over at a small lot next to the bait shop there was a single ramada and a picnic table that certainly had seen better days. I motioned my wife out of the car and explained what took place. She said this doesn’t feel right. I agreed with her, but what else were we going to do?

About five minutes later, an old man, tan and weathered, rode up on an electric scooter. He parked it and walked up onto the bait shop deck and lit a cigarette. Just a local I assumed. Never looking over at us, he just peered out across the tops of the trees and enjoyed his smoke. I finally decided to approach him and ask him if he knew anything about a tour that was to take place nearby. He responded with, “We leave in 5 minutes.” Nothing else.

I walked away from him and back to the ramada to inform my wife. As we are discussing our next move, he races by on his scooter never slowing down and says, “follow me!” I barely catch sight of him speeding down a path and disappearing into the jungle.

We both looked at each other and for some odd reason slowly walked down the path he drove down. After about 100 yards we saw that the path led to a small opening, some water and a small marina. There were only a few boats tied up. We saw him locking up his scooter to a dock piling. We continued towards him. He still said nothing and walked further away from us and down the dock farther towards a large boat. Our minds were racing now. Are we the only guests on this tour? Why are we going on a large fishing vessel? Is this guy legit? Are we being lured to our deaths? We are deep in the Florida backwoods. No one knows we are here. We are unable to send a text or place a call on our phones due to no coverage.

As we almost get up to where this old guy is, he walks past the large boat we thought we were boarding and steps down into what looks like a large white flat open canoe with a motor on it. He places two cushions on an ice chest and motions for us to have a seat on the ice chest. Why we agreed, we couldn’t tell you. We felt we were smarter than this.

He started the boat and we head south towards Cuba. I try to remember the scenery as we hit top speed weaving in and out of island after island. I went blank after the 40th turn. I am for sure lost, and I don’t easily lose my sense of direction. It all seems exactly the same. More islands. A right turn. A left turn. Three more rights, and six more lefts. I give up. My anxiety is through the roof at this point. I believe we are going to be robbed and left for dead.

I grab my wife’s hand and we are communicating any possible plan to one another psychically. He trims the motor and we come to a slow crawl. This may be it. I frantically try and figure out a plan… Then, on cue, he becomes the tour guide.

“Hello, I’m Captain Joe. We are now entering a protected area with many mangroves. Mangroves are unique in that they filter the salt water through their root system…”

We both look at each other and wonder if we are in the twilight zone. He becomes personable and very informative as quick as a light switch can be turned on. He breaks into his personal life and how he knew after one vacation here on his honeymoon that this was the place he would move to and live the rest of his life. He then spots something. Throwing his right arm off the starboard side he points intensely into the water below us.

“Manta Ray!” he bellows!

We look. We see nothing. He moves on. I suspect he is just doing it to see if we are gullible. I wonder if this show of his is how he kidnaps everyone. He points again.

“Dolphins ahead!”

This time we see one, then another one. He pulls up near them and continues his talk, telling us about local birds, plants and mammals in the area and soon he says,

“Hold on, we’re going into the ocean.”

We held on as the motor accelerated against the tidal flow barely balancing on the ice chest seats that weren’t strapped down. The boat launched upward again and again. Captain Joe stared straight ahead over our bouncing heads finally settling the boat’s nose. We are now out of the river mouth and floating in the gulf’s ocean waves. The water turned from a brackish gray to a turquoise blue and now we can see clearly 40 feet below us to white sand below.

“Manta Ray!” He hollers again. This time he stopped the boat and killed the motor in the shallow ocean coast. We bobbed up and down in the waves. We see nothing. Everything became quiet. He lit another cigarette. With one eye I look over the side of the boat again, with the other, I strain to keep an eye on Captain Joe. I briefly thought if we survive, what will I write in the google review about this tour?

“Maybe the largest one I’ve seen yet!” Captain Joe says looking over the side with conviction as he takes a drag on his newly lit pleasure.

We then see what he sees. The largest dark spot we have ever seen moved. It gently curls its wingspan and the Manta Ray is now seen. It was the dark spot. It was the size of a car. I look at my wife in amazement. If we die this way, it may have been worth it. The beautiful and graceful Ray drifted off slowly. We sat in silence as Joe finishes his last drag.

As our eyes adjust back towards the shore we see a large storm cloud building. A whole line of black clouds brewing and bubbling. It’s happening in real time and we see it growing towards us. Clouds keep building as Captain Joe keeps talking. He is giving us a detailed history lesson of the area. He is failing to notice this very large storm cell. I don’t feel like interrupting him because I get the feeling that he may return us in one piece.

“You know, we just realized that we need to get going and find a hotel soon. We loved the tour and are happy with all we’ve seen. We are okay to go back right now.” I grauvell.

Captain Joe looks at his watch and says, “It’s only halfway over?”

“We don’t care, we loved it, but need to get going…”

“Okay” he shrugs, starting the motor.

Pointing the boat towards the river mouth was also pointing Captain Joe at the dark sky. We were heading into the storm and I think this was when he actually realized the position we were all in. We needed to head East and the Storm was heading West.

Captain Joe told us to hold on and increased the speed at which we were weaving around the islands. We soon smelled rain and lightning started to show across the water ahead of us. For the first time on the trip I felt like we were all on the same team but it was up to Captain Joe to find our way back at full speed. I again gave the look to my wife, conveying ‘What are we doing right now?’ of which she looked back with the least amount of trust that this was going to end well. The winds picked up and the rain wall was visible as we were racing towards it and into it. I secured anything that would not survive the downpour heading towards us. I glanced up with tears streaming out of the corner of my eyes from the speed we were moving at. I then saw it. I couldn’t believe it. It was the dock and his small locked up scooter. We pulled in and the rain started pelting us in torrential sheets of water. We yelled thank you as we scrambled up the dock ladder out of the boat and ran down the dock past the scooter and away from an unbelievable tour and Captain Joe. We never stopped running, passing through the jungle, past the bait shop, past the ramada and to the only car occupying the parking lot. We unlocked it, jumped in and locked the doors. The humidity inside the rental car became thick from our wet clothes. We were able to finally look at each other and process what the heck just happened. I went to speak and then my wife said sternly,

“Start the car!”

So, I did. We left. It didn’t seem safe to discuss what transpired until we drove several miles and our phones picked up cell coverage and we began seeing civilization again.

And now you know about Captain Joe!

-Steve