Sailing Away

A happy couple, surfing the silver sea.

Five million people live in Miami, viewed from Boca Chita Key at Biscayne National Park.

We are sailors at heart. That was re-enforced this weekend when we boarded Surprise, a rocket ship of a catamaran, owned by our friends Corky and Susan Clark. Corky and Sue charter the 48-foot long, 25-feet-wide sailboat and they took us aboard as guests at Miami’s Dinner Key Marina. The wind was howling across Biscayne Bay, so much so that the launch at the marina refused to take us out to their mooring. So Corky launched his inflatable dinghy and scooted in to the shore, handing us foul weather gear to keep the spray at bay while he crabbed back out to Surprise.

We were lucky enough to catch them between charters and they invited us aboard for a weekend of sailing around Biscayne Bay, one of our old sailing grounds while we lived in Coral Gables in the 1970s while I worked as graphic arts director of The Miami Herald.

After a delightful lunch, we slipped the mooring and Corky raised the mainsail and released the jib. Like a stallion that had been housed in its paddock for too long, Surprise unleashed her power and we lifted off across the bay, leaving two respectable rooster tails off the pontoons as the boat’s speed climbed steadily to 9.5 knots. Jo and I are used to sailing at 5 knots. So the sensation of almost double that speed leaves a permanent smile on our faces.

We scooted across the bay, heading for Boca Chita Key, an entrance to Biscayne National Park. The park is 95 per cent under water. But Boca Chita offers a place to anchor and then wander around the land once owned by the fellow who created Honeywell back in the early 20th century.

A clutch of power boats were tied up to the piers at the key. We parked outside, hanging on the anchor while the wind whistled through our main hatches.

We dinghied ashore and listened to the visitors chatter away almost exclusively in Spanish. Miami, of course, is a Latin American city. Even when we lived there, the population was 47 per cent Hispanic. There were 11 per cent black and the remaining minority was white folks. 

As of 2000, in terms of national origin and/or ethnic origin, 34.1% of the populace was Cuban, while 5.6% of the city's population was Nicaraguan, 5.5% of the population was Haitian, 3.3% of the population was Honduran, 1.7% of all residents were Dominican, and 1.6% of the population was Colombian. It’s a rich and colorful tapestry that adds to its international flavor. It gets a little overwhelming, however, when you find it impossible to speak English with city workers, for example, because they only speak Spanish.

We returned to Surprise and a dinner feast by Susan. We sat below, after dinner, playing board games and talk, talk, talking into the night. Before turning in, we took a stroll on deck and eagle-eyed Jo noticed the boat was lying at right angles to the anchor chain – always a bad sign. Sure enough, we were dragging across the grassy bottom of the bay and we were dragging into pretty thin water. We had about four or five inches under the boat. All hands on deck now! We had to haul in the anchor and steam back to deeper water. We got the anchor reset and we watched as the boat rode easily to the chain.

We turned in and awoke to a peaceful morning, full sun, and no dragging. We sat around, solving the problems of the world before hoisting sail after lunch and scooting across the bay once more to the mooring at Dinner Key Marina. What a joy to sail. But it was made more special by being with dear friends we have known for 30 years.

If you’d like to know more about Surprise and maybe how to charter her, go to: www.Sailsurprise.com where you can learn about the boat, the different cruises that are possible, rates, as well as their blog.

Jo and I had left Ian and Fiona aboard our motor home for the two days. They had the air conditioning running, and two big bowls of cat food and multiple bowls of water. When we arrived home we found they barely eaten any of the food. Presumably they had gone into rationing mode for fear that we wouldn’t come back. They greeted us, climbing over us endlessly, marking us and nuzzling up against each of us. So a little absence did make the heart grow fonder.

The captain of this ship has passed out for siesta time on the foredeck.

Corky Clark at the helm, right, with Sue and Jo as we sailed across Biscayne Bay.

The lighthouse at Boca Chita Key, with fishermen and kids silhouetted.

Tampa Bay Times Article

Make retirement the best chapter of your life

By Patti Ewald, Times Staff Writer
In Print: Wednesday, March 28, 2012 

    This is just a short stop for Robert and Jo Mellis as they move from Wekiwa Springs State Park, north of Orlando, to Lake Manatee State Park in Bradenton.
    They sit in lawn chairs facing the Gulf of Mexico. 
    The water looks like a sea of diamonds the way it does at that certain time in the afternoon when the sun is at just the right angle to bounce little flickers of light off the waves and ripples. 
    She is knitting. He is reading. They take turns reaching into a bowl of trail mix on a makeshift table between them. 
    To all the world, they look like a happily retired couple with not a care in the world and not a place they have to be.  Until you realize what's providing the shade in which they sit. It's their RV, a 34-foot beast that is to them what a shell is to a tortoise. It's the home they take with them everywhere they go. This day, they've taken it to the base of the Sunshine Skyway bridge, to the road leading to the fishing pier. 
    They are spending the year exploring Florida's state parks. They stay as long as they want at one park  and then pack up and move on down the road. 
    That would be quite an accomplishment for most 71-year-olds. But not for this husband and wife. A mere five years ago, they were making their third trip to Namibia, a developing nation on the southwest coast of Africa. They had been there two years before, when they were 64. It was the same year they went to Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, Germany, Spain, Gibraltar and England. 
    Their first visit to Namibia was three years before that, when they were 61. To these post-retirement globetrotters, cruising Florida in a vehicle equipped with all the comforts of home is a breeze. 
    Robert Mellis went to Africa and Asia to teach and mentor working journalists in developing countries. Two of his trips were funded by the International Center for Journalists in Washington, D.C. Funding for the other trips came from many sources, including the Independent Journalism Foundation in New York, the U.S. government through its Aid to International Development program, several corporations — and even the newspaper in Namibia. 
    Jo Mellis, who has been at his side since they met in Boston in 1962, continued as his constant companion. She always went along and always found her own projects to work on — not the least of which was her opposition to the schools being built in Cambodia. "I got really annoyed," she said. "The Japanese were there building schools with no bathrooms. "Schools. With. No. Bathrooms," she repeated incredulously. "What are the girls supposed to do?" 
    Mellis started his lifelong career in journalism at age 15 in Scotland after he dropped out of school. "I was the youngest editor in Scotland," he said. He came to the United States and worked at several newspapers, including a stint at the St. Petersburg Times, before settling into a job as publisher of a group of weekly papers in Connecticut and New York. It was there that he learned to make the most of what he had — which wasn't much. That's the nugget he wanted to share with reporters and editors in poor countries: You can do great journalism even without a lot of resources. 
    And so began his travels that took him to 19 countries in 20 years. Mellis details all of this in his book, Now We Begin: How to Add Fun and Enjoyment to Your Retirement Years and Make a Difference in Our World. 
    Were they ever scared? Not really, they said, but there were some scary times. "We were in Namibia right after 9/11 . . . all the talk shows in the country were saying America got what it deserved. They called us the bullies of the world," Mellis said. "Sometimes you have to just let things roll off you. Not everybody loves America," he said. 
    What was their favorite place? There's no hesitation. "Bhutan." It's a small country the size of Switzerland in the eastern Himalayas that measures Gross National Happiness and strictly limits the number of tourists it allows in, Mellis said. The idyllic Buddhist nation nestled high in the mountains between Tibet and India makes its money selling hydro power to India, he said.
    The editor of Kuensel, a newspaper subsidized by the Bhutanese government, asked Mellis to help it become self-sufficient. Mellis obliged, teaching its business staff — of one — how to prepare and sell display advertising to local merchants. The paper, and the merchants, were pleased with the results, he said.
    Robert and Jo Mellis believe their life has been richer and fuller after retirement than most people's are during an entire lifetime. And it makes them feel like shouting from a mountaintop to other retirees: Just do it. 
    They are done with international traveling, but they plan to keep preaching the gospel of "Your Life Has Just Begun When You Retire" to everyone they meet. 
    In the epilogue of his book, Mellis said, "It has become our mantra that our retirement became the starting point for our new life, the beginning of what has become the most interesting phase of our journey. "And I constantly remind myself of the Monty Python skit in which a cart is pushed through the streets of some woebegone city in England with a man calling out, 'Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead.' The men with the cart haul a puny-looking guy out of a hovel and throw him on the cart while he whispers, 'I'm not dead yet.' "We are not dead yet. Lots more living will be done." 


Be brave, stay engaged 
Tips from Robert and Jo Mellis on how to make your retirement years the best of your life. 
• Just do it. Be brave. Be fearless. 
• Stay involved with people. 
• Stay interested in life. 
• Always challenge yourself. 
• Try to do something different. 
• Chase the thrill — get on that Harry Potter ride at Universal Orlando.
• Volunteer. Do your fair share of giving and everybody benefits. And remember, you don't have to be rich to have a great retirement. Be frugal. Live on your Social Security — but just live. 


The globetrotters Robert and Jo Mellis have been all over the world in retirement. Here are the places they've been and the age they were at the time: 
By plane 
Age 57: Singapore, Malaysia, Borneo, Sri Lanka, India, Bhutan, Nepal, Pakistan 
Age 61: Namibia 
Age 63: Cambodia 
Age 64: Laos and Vietnam, Germany, Spain, Gibraltar, Namibia, England 
Age 66: Namibia 
By boat 
Age 60: Maine to Florida 
Age 63: Canada 
Age 62: The Bahamas 
Age 65: Down the east coast of the United States 
By RV 
Age 67: Quebec, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia 
Age 68: Maine to Florida via Cape Hatteras, N.C. 
Age 69: Along the Mississippi River to Ontario 
Age 70: British Columbia, Yukon and Alaska 
Age 71: Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick and back to Maine 
Source: Robert Mellis 
Copyright 2012 Tampa Bay Times

The Joys of Just Sitting

When we visited our old friend Michael Marzella on Pine Island, FL, this osprey came over to check on us while we ate lunch along the water of peaceful Pine Island.

I’ve been sitting outside our motor home today in the waning afternoon sun, watching a squirrel making his world perfect. I watched this for more than hour. Now, I know, if you are a captain of industry, running a company, making millions, a retiree who spends his/her time keeping track of the rise and fall of the stock market, or even being the captain of a charter boat that sails the Gulf Stream to bring dreams of paradise to your clients, watching a squirrel for an hour seems like an enormous waste of time.

It is not. It is fascinating.

The squirrel lives in the oak tree that provides shade to our rig. From his point of view, it’s his tree. So he’s not thrilled to have a motor home skulking under his tree. Add to that, he has to deal with the outrageous annoyance of having two cats that watch him for countless hours, with much twitching of tails. But a squirrel must go on living.

He comes down the tree trunk, head first, seemingly oblivious to the law of gravity. He stops and starts, quivering and shaking his gossamer-thin tail at enemies of the world of squirrel-hood. He lands on the ground, gently, rummages for a nut or some other tid-bit. He’s pretty thorough, digging under the ground, sifting the dirt through his two front paws, placing some treasure in his mouth for a few seconds to taste its value to him.

His almond-shaped eyes dart back and forth, constantly on the alert for trouble. He sits on his hind legs and cleans himself with his two front paws. He’s at one with his universe. When a dog walks by on a leash, he’d instantly on guard. He never lets that dog out of sight until it disappears among the other campsites.

Everything in his world is tied to his eyesight and his sense of smell, it seems. He constantly is looking for his next meal. We’d just cleaned off our picnic tables and the debris from the grill had landed on the ground. He was all over it, picking up the burned bits of chicken or pork ribs that we’d had during the week. He poked the tasty bits into his mouth. Wait a minute. I thought these creatures were vegetarian! Doesn’t look like it to me. I’d say he has adapted his eating behavior to be an omnivore. It’s all good from his point of view. Just like the wild hogs that roam in the park we stay.

These hogs came over more than 600 years ago from Cuba. Brought over by the Spanish conquistadors. They were allowed to run free and breed with the idea they would be a source of meat to the Spaniards. And did they ever! There now are thousands wandering in the wilderness of South Florida. A ranger told us the other night that they are not rounded up and killed in our park (Collier-Seminole in the Everglades) because the panthers that are highly endangered here like to chow down on wild hogs. Just to the north of here, however, there are 550 wild hogs living on the island of Cayo Costa. 

Jo and I and our kids anchored off Cayo Costa back in the 1970s. All I remember of it, though, were the stunningly beautiful white sand beaches and the billion-strong mosquitoes that kept guard over the island paradise. The mosquitoes were so plentiful that they actually drove us back into the Gulf of Mexico with their ferocious biting. We escaped with our lives – but barely.

Before we came down the coast to camp at Collier-Seminole State Park, we stayed at Myakka River State Park. We loved that park. Never have we seen such a remarkable array of water birds. Each day, we’d make our way to the side of Myakka Lake and view the 100-plus white pelicans – enormous birds with a wingspan that stretches between 6 and 8 feet. They are fascinating to watch because they are group feeders. That is to say, they have worked out that if they work in a circle they can corral the fish in the lake. They close the circle slowly and then, in unison, they stick their huge bills under the water and simultaneously slurp down the trapped dish.

We also spent time watching roseate spoonbills, kites, osprey, all manner of hawks, black-backed stilts who are just as described: a long-legged bird with a black back, that stalk through the shallows, dipping their beaks into the muddy water and almost always coming up with a dainty morsel.

No. I think just sitting and watching is a fine thing for a man to do. Perhaps there is nothing better than to stop, look and listen to the great world around us.

Two moorhens paddle by a squadron of white pelicans on Myakka Lake.

We're Having Fun!!!!

Did I hear someone say, "They're 'way too old to be doing this stuff? Yes. You're correct about that! But we still had a great time when grand-daughter Trisha flew south from frosty Connecticut so she could make her pilgrimage to The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Orlando.

We chose a cool day for the visit and, despite the outlandish cost of admission, it was a memorable day. We first piled onto the Flight of the Hippogriff, a ride that was close to terrifying to me. It was a case of holding on for dear life while we were catapulted at ridiculous speeds through the air over the rooftops of Hogsmeade, where Hogwarts is located in the fantasy world of all things Potter. I was shaking when we disembarked and wondered if my back could really take the stresses. But this was just the beginning.

The main Potter ride, "Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey" was a corker.

It's VERY popular, of course, and the line zigged and zagged back and forth with about 500 people ahead of us. This gave us ample opportunity to read the numerous warning signs that we should not attempt the Potter ride is we had bad backs, heart conditions, high blood pressure...and a hundred other issues. At the very end of the long list, we were finally warned to remove any prosthetic device for fear of losing it as we hurtled through the darkness. Clearly this had occurred in the past and they decided when someone lost his wooden or plastic leg that this should be added to the warnings.

Anyway, we had no arms or legs that needed removal. Jo was mesmerized by the pictures that talked to us and to each other in Hogwarts. But this was merely to keep us entertained while we awaited the main event - the ride.

We were strapped in and warned to remove anything loose. And off we went. We flew and swooped through Hogwarts, with Harry Potter on his broomstick, showing us the way through the death-defying swirls and double-dips. We were upside down and downside up. We were confronted with all the evil that Harry had to fight off. And we came out the other side, gasping in amazement and with adrenalin pumping. What an incredible ride!

After a lunch of fish and chips, we were ready for more. Trisha laboriously studied each piece of treasured merchandise and decided what to purchase, then we wandered out of Potter land and headed for Jurassic Park. We stopped an attendant and asked where the River Adventure was located. We looked us over and said, "You do know this is a wet ride?" Yes. We were game, we told him. He suggested we try to sit at the rear of the river boat and showed us the way.

We were a little intimidated by seeing smart young things walking ahead of us, all of them wearing cheap plastic ponchos. We were placed in the second row from the rear in the boat but we noticed the seats were soaking wet - not an especially encouraging sign. I sat on my hat and we floated away downstream. It was a pretty pleasant ride, passing dozens of  animated dinosaurs that had escaped from Jurassic Park and which were on the rampage.

The climax came as we climbed toward a waterfall, where a gigantic T-Rex reared its head and stared us down. We ducked under his throat but immediately were enveloped in darkness - always a sign that things are going from bad to worse. Our boat tipped downward and we picked up speed to a screaming crescendo in which we exited from the darkness in what felt like a free-fall into a lagoon. It was wet. Lord, it was truly wet. But great fun.

The Elephant Graveyard

New cupboard that holds our printer and iPod music system at the front of our rig.

I've been working on a motor home project to improve the way the front interior of our motor home works. We decided to mount our TV on the side wall of the rig and that left a big hole at the front. Solution: Let's build a bookcase-cupboard up there.

I found an old desk at an auction that I purchased for $3. It provided me with makings of a nice wood-grained interior bookcase after I sawed it down to size. I was not so lucky with the finding a solution with the doors. I got some help from a carpenter camper who had access to his father-in-law's table saw. But my plywood doors looked cheap and plain.

When we moved up the road 70 miles, however, I went onto the Internet and found an RV salvage place was nearby. We drove over there and the greaseball guy behind the counter said he charged $2 per person to go into the yard to look for stuff. I said I would go on my own and he relented and allowed Jo to accompany me at no extra charge. We wandered through this unbelievable elephant graveyard of motor homes. Many of them were burned out (a sobering sight). Some were old and completely gutted. The transmissions, storage tanks, windshields, skylights and other parts had been stripped, leaving the carcass bare. But we came upon one with cabinets still intact.

We carried along a tape measure since there was little wiggle room for the size of the doors. Two doors met our requirements within a quarter inch. Now we had to find a screwdriver to allow us to remove them from the rig. Jo found a Philips head screwdriver lying in the debris and we knew it was our lucky day. We brought them back to the shop and haggled the price down with Mr. Greaseball.

When we got back home, they fit the bill perfectly. A little coating of Liquid Gold brought the wood back to life and we now are in business with a nicely enclosed front area for our books, the computer printer and our iPod music system.

The Bird Whisperer

Great Horned Owl, perched in Wauchula, FL, at sunset, with the moon rising full.

The park ranger knelt on the sand, under the trees in the darkness. She turned on a tape recorder and the click-click-click and then a screech cried out into the woods. There was silence. She played it again. Still silence. Played it one more time and we heard a response call from the woods around us. In another minute, three Eastern Screech Owls swooped among the trees over our heads. Now they answered almost immediately when the tape cried out.

Ranger Stephanie was beside herself with delight over the success of her expedition. She had invited the campers in Little Manatee River State Park to come with her to “Call out the owls” – as she called it. Before we wandered in the woods, the ranger showed a slide presentation about the owls that lived in Florida. She talked about the Great Horned Owl, the biggest predator in the park. She said she would not try to call him out that evening. If she did, no other owl would come for the Great Horned Owl will kill an Eastern Screech Owl.

Late last year, while Jo and I were living in Wauchula, in the center of the state, we had three Great Horned Owls in our resort. I’d even, in a great stroke of luck, been able to photograph one as he sat on a telephone pole with a full moon rising behind his body. The setting sun cast him in a golden light with this enormous disk of the moon rising in the east.

Ranger Stephanie had arranged a visit from an animal rescue operator from Bradenton Beach. He brought out the Eastern Screech Owl, tiny, along with the Great Horned Owl and then he produced the Barn Owl, with its flat, heart-shaped face.  He explained their range and what they are likely to eat. The Great Horned Owl is powerful enough to pick up a cat and carry it off for dinner, he said. The Screech is a little thing. He demonstrated how the Barn Owl uses its flat face as a dish. He has ears, one higher than the other, that are so sensitive that he can hunt prey even when he cannot see the prey. He told us this had been demonstrated by blind-folding a Barn Owl. He still was able to locate and kill his food.

Jo and I were so intrigued by this mini-adventure that, the next night, as dusk drew close to us at our campground site, I brought out our iPad, with its Audubon book about the birds. The beauty of the electronic version of the book is that you can click on a bird’s sound. I clicked on the Eastern Screech Owl and its chatter spread out across the area.  After three plays, I was attacked by a Red Cardinal that swooped down on me, angry about the sound it was hearing. He (for he was flaming crimson) sat on the roof of our motor home and, when I played the owl’s voice again, it sent him into another swooping frenzy.

I switched over to the voice of the Red Cardinal and that brought a female Cardinal out of the woods to perch in a nearby branch and survey the marketplace. Now the male Cardinal was in a bit of a pickle. He had competition that he couldn’t actually see. So he returned to the branch, near the female, to chatter with her about not bothering with the unknown, unseen, competition.

We’ve tried this since then, and we always seem to be able to call out the birds in the evening. Now I’ve decided to call myself the Bird Whisperer!

And Now, We Begin in Print

So many folks wrote me kind words after I alerted them to the fact that my first book, Now, We Begin, was available as an eBook. After the congratulations, many said they would like to read the book as a printed version. Well, friends, your wish is my command!

 I went back to the drawing board, for a printed version is a completely different kettle of fish.

Both ePublishing and Print Publishing have their up and downsides. eBooks require you to become a whiz at formatting and knowing all about hyperlinks and such stuff. Print publishing requires you to design the book in a completely different way. You need to become an expert at software like InDesign. All of it is a brain stretcher for old geezers.

But I set about learning (or re-learning, really) how to create a physical book that could be printed on paper with ink. That task came to fruition with the New Year!

After going through a series of frustrating rejections of my file from my online publisher because my design did not fit the parameters that I'd set up, I figured my way through the maze and was rewarded with an email from CreateSpace (my publisher) telling me I'd jumped over all the hurdles and my book now was up and available for sale at

https://www.createspace.com/3728363

In another 5-10 days, the book will appear on Amazon.com. Then, it spreads to Amazon in the UK, Germany, France, Italy and some other countries. The printed book is different in many ways from the eBook. The cover, for one thing, had to be changed because the picture of me perched on a sand dune in the Namib desert was simply too low a resolution for print purposes.

So I rummaged through my thousands of pictures, looking for something that would permit high resolution printing. That took me all the way to my favorite country in all the world: Bhutan. In addition, I was able to design many more pictures into the body of the book. Thanks for all the feedback - and for all the sales. It makes my day...and, maybe, my year.