Handling of horses
Hunting and Canoeing
Mountain climbing.
I know of no other purely sporting propositions.
Went to Orlando one day and back the next. Saw my old farmer, Erving Reed, and his wife. He is manager of a big orange grove. Gave me the skin of a 5 ft. rattler, with 12 rattles, which he killed on the place a short time ago. Sometimes I wonder a little bit about the camping trip which we propose. If the moccasins get you in the water and the rattlers on the shore, where in H—— do you sleep, anyway? Weather pulled northeast drizzly again. Three days of hard northeast rain, which is probably good for garden truck and such.
February 16th. Before turning in last night we saw the clouds split wide open to the westward, and we slept with two blankets and were cold at that. Gave up the idea of going in launch, for this cold northeast rain has made it dangerous for camping on the ground, and I have plenty of rheumatix now. Up with the light and away at 8 o’clock. Launch astern and Mascot light without her ballast. Made good time before smart northerly airs. The water clear and so it was fairly easy to avoid the many sand bars. The channel wound in, out, and around many little wooded islets, and it was quite like sailing on the still waters of some northern lake. Down past New Smyrna and so with many crooks and bends to Mosquito Inlet, where is a fine great light tower. Here we miscued badly, but the clear water saved our bacon and we were able to turn the outfit around and regain the deep water. Then on until we got badly boxed and had to go channel hunting in launch before we could get on. Without ballast old Mascot pushed around as easy as you please and while we got aground many times, we had little trouble in working off. Just before reaching the little settlement of Eldora, we passed the big, Indian shell mound and in a few miles approached Mosquito Lagoon, a good big stretch of water spread out mighty thin. No place for me to be bobbing about in with no ballast and only a dinky little launch, so it was haul to the bank, and fill up some canvas bags with sand and stow them. Then out to entrance of big lagoon, which spread beautifully calm before us. It was late afternoon and the east was all blue and purple mists. Across the water to the west, lay a broad, blood-red pathway to the sun just dropping, a great ball, behind the dark line of palmettos. Flights of pelicans and big, long necked cranes stood out sharply against the crimsoned sky. We tied to the bank of a little island for the night which was filled with the strange calls and cries of strange birds. H. complained of sore throat so he did his gozzle up with cold bandage and red flannel.
February 17th. Never a day broke fairer. H. had good night, but turned out with a fearful cold and pretty sore throat, so waited for sun to warm things up well before tripping our hook. Then away into broad Mosquito Lagoon in which we grounded a good many times before reaching the haulover canal or out leading through into Indian River. Passed through the cut and as we entered the river we saw a great, black pig quarter mile from shore quietly rooting away in water 15 in. deep. Now what do you make of that? If swordfish iron hadn’t been washed overboard long ago might have had a little aside at pig-sticking from the launch. Indian River same as Mosquito Lagoon, except there are a few more feet of water and practically no danger of grounding. The river is wide at this point just above Titusville, and as the shores are low, the whole thing is uninteresting even on such a perfect afternoon. Lots of ducks and very tame. I got two with old Bess and might have had many more but didn’t need them. We pushed on and on and it was long after dark when we dropped hook off village of Cocoa. Think we must have done our forty miles or better today. I seldom measure it off. In fact we never look at the charts ahead to see just how far it is to any place, but start in at top of a chart, work through it, and unroll another to be handled in the same way. After doing this several times we finally unroll one that has our stopping place. At starting we had 39 charts in the roll. Tonight we put the keebosh on No. 35 so we must be pretty close to the jumping off place. H. turned in early feeling kind of meechin from effect of his cold, which has gone to his head and taken away his taste to that degree that he no longer finds fault with my cooking.
February 18th. Turned out to another bright, warm, calm morning. H. sneezing and coughing at a great rate. Into wharf for gasoline and oil where was also interviewed by newspaper man. Then away southward once more. Set our awning. Most grateful, cooling shade. There we sat in our easy chairs, smoking and reading just like the nasty rich, who passed us in their palatial houseboats. Ducks, ducks, ducks. Acres and acres, thousands and thousands. So tame it seemed we must surely run them down. Fun to see their little feet paddle, paddle so fast to help them rise from the calm water. It was the same story all day. Low, uninteresting shores dotted here and there with houses and little villages and ahead always that great stretch of calm water. Towards end of day we came to some right pernickety navigation and we jumped her again and again, but always were able to push off and on once more. At five o’clock with sky sort of festering up, we snugged into Sebastian’s Creek and over hook in 6 ft. of water which is a handsome depth, here away.
February 19th. Turned out before light to find an ugly look to sky and sort of soaking air southeast. Anchorage under these conditions didn’t suit me a bit so was away early with breeze in my eye and pricking on. Six miles and more down to Indian River Narrows and couldn’t put sail on as there was only 5 ft. in channel and nothing on either side the last mile or so. Came pesky hard, but by taking in awning little launch was able to kick us into a snug little cove where we put down hook to await better chances. Made up a new recipe for game and had most successful noonday feed. Here you go for duck a la Mascot.