Monday's run was easy and uneventful, ending near Panama City. We spent the night at anchor, ensconced in a protected little cove within sight of a fat white buoy emblazoned with the warning "USAF, keep back 500 feet." At exactly five o'clock strains of the Star Spangled Banner wafted over the waterway and Air Force jets thundered in formation throughout the afternoon.  

We got through an entire day and night in good weather, without incident, and were intent on repeating it. And we did exactly that, making easy passage on a WNW course with the sun behind us most of the day. While navigating a gentle curve in the channel I could spot five upcoming green markers spaced a half-mile or more apart without using binoculars. Calm water, along with bright sunshine hitting the reflective green paint, made it look like five little green lights ahead. Every day should be so easy! We ended up at Destin, obviously a vacation playground. Small boat and jet ski rentals, sunset and dolphin-watch cruises, colorful neon lighted waterfront restaurants and bars, clear blue water - plunk that down in the midst of powder white sand beaches and it's a sure draw for tourists. It was an easy in and out to our anchorage, barely off the channel, so it was one more easy day or cruising. 

On a nearly straight westerly course, we slipped out of the eastern time zone somewhere between Destin and Orange Beach, Alabama. I looked at the clock on my cell phone at 1:45, noting that I had 15 minutes before I was due topside, and the next time I looked it was 1:00. It took me by surprise and then it dawned on me that we must have crossed the line. Along this part of the Gulf coast, if a person didn't feel the 75-degree temperature, they'd swear they were looking at snow on land. One very colorful new subdivision near Pensacola looked about ready for occupancy.  

 We met a few lengthy tows along the way and Tom would always take the wheel to negotiate passage over the radio. "How do you want to do this, Cap?" he'd say, and they would come back with one whistle or two (one whistle, port to port, two whistles, starboard to starboard). He picked a spot to anchor near Orange Beach that was next to nothing more than scrubland and pine barrens so we were puzzled as to where all the dolphin watch boats and sunset cruises were coming from. It was the middle of the week and overcast, but there were plenty of sightseers. We'd completed three out of three good days of cruising. We were on a roll.  

Tom's right eye had been bothering him for weeks and was getting worse. My suggestion had been to get it checked out while we were in Dunedin but for reasons that escape me, men seem to be as apt to make doctor appointments as they are to ask for directions. Now he began losing his sight in that eye. Getting to our next night's stop at Dog River Marina in Mobile was of greatest importance. NOAA's forecast for Mobile Bay at 5:00 a.m. on Thursday called for 15 to 20-knot winds out of the south with bay waters choppy in the morning, then a front would move through in the afternoon, with the wind changing to 25-knots out of the southwest and bay waters rough. It was good enough to go, as we were only about six hours away and could make it to Dog River by noon. We almost did.