Getting to the Marina in a Timely Manner (the bike path blog)

This week ends up being an extremely busy week for all of us at AFC. Several offshore trips this week with bluewater and plenty of wahoo, quite a few dolphin and a few unusuals and mystery bites. However the marlin have eluded us this week, (although the wahoo and a couple of sailfish have cooperated),and we are crediting a full moon and the Braves bullpen with the loss(es). On the inshore front, the bite continues with several good red snapper limits posted, a number of king mackerel, grouper and the like. We had some truly great clients this week, as seems to be the norm for us and we consider ourselves very fortunate indeed. Thank you all.

One of our families this week were a bit late to the marina and the matriarch lamented that they were a bit delayed due to cyclists on route 30A that were riding two abreast and preventing traffic from flowing as normal. Her question, "why don't they just ride on your bike path?", just has to be answered with all the alacrity of a Rumsfeld press conference.

At the risk of sounding like our wives who seem to have to return to the Pleistocene era in order to describe a stop at the gas station, we really do need to provide some history in order to permit the greatest level of understanding. So please indulge us this bit from the Wayback machine.

First...........there were single cells.....which grew into amoebas........(flash forward)......in the Year of Our Lord, 1998, Walton County commissioners admitted that of the 36 million USD they took in from property taxes, they had somehow managed to 'misplace' 28 million of the windfall. Yes, misplace was the exact phrase utilized. Our previous governor's office hastily sent down a very buttoned-down group of pencil pushers who feverishly went to work amidst the mountain of paperwork. Six months later, they released the results of the embodiment of their toils in a succinct statement, "yes, it is indeed not there." We were very much relieved to know that justice was served and went on to our merry existences.

As the great bulk of the tax base was levied on beach property located some 40 miles south of the complex of nepotistic despots that is downtown Defuniak Springs, it came as no great surprise that the county's lower constituents grieved and screamed the loudest. Unfortunately, at that time, there were only about 8000 of us. Our unified voices were barely heard over the sound of the shaking of the forest of money trees now burgeoning with ripened fruits in the county seat.

A grass roots upwelling from south of the Choctawhatchee began to gain steam. The voice of secession was afoot.......an appeasement had to be made. Our unified, albeit puny voice(s) had been heard after all. We were awarded a $28 million dollar bike path spanning the entire length and breadth of glorious (and scenic, by the way) 30A. From 'sea to shining sea', as it were. Patriotic and wonderous and a real crowd pleaser. "Let them eat bike path" was more like it. After all, a few pretty, shiney trinkets have been historically linked to some pretty good deals.

So we had a bike path. The soccer moms loved it. The skaters loved it. Joggers were thriving on it's scenery. Families were delighted and the bike rental shops weren't far behind. But for some reason the cyclists have always and still continue to hold it in disdain as beneath them somehow. You will never see a front-basketed Schwinn on 30A, only state-of-the-art Shimano titanium numbers, piloted by Lance Armstrong wannabes resplendant in swept-back, logo-festooned helmets, mirrored blades and enough spandex to bring back the 80s hair-band era.

Roads are for cars. It's that simple. We all have bikes and enjoy using them. We USE the bike path. After all, we paid dearly for it. If your ego is above being seen on a bike path then you should also know that you are fair game for those who belong there; namely our clientele enroute to go fishing. So here goes, if you are enroute to our marina and happen to encounter a cyclist on the road, whether he is impeding your travel or not, (those utilizing the bike path are free to pass GO), please feel free to tackle him and bring him with you. We still keel haul in this part of the country, but can really never have enough candidates for keeping 'in tune'. Should the cyclist or cyclists be too fast for an open field tackle, we encourage you to launch a hockey stick or gaff handle through the rear spokes, (the front wheel-spoke launch, while colorful, tends to leave the cyclist mortally wounded and we prefer live, but well-broken participation). This generally halts the forward momentum in a rather spectacular and immediate fashion at which point you and your party may collect the debris of cyclist and cycle and bring them both to the docks with you. We will make excellent use of this debris: the cyclist will be utilized as the means to a thorough cleaning of the underside of all hulls in the fleet and what remains will be further utilized as bait for the fish traps in the harbor. The cycle itself will be added to our new, fully licensed offshore reef system and will add greatly to your angling pleasure.

Environmentalists to the core, we believe in Recycling the Planet. So, Recycle-A-Cyclilst today and enrich your fishing for tomorrow.

No children or animals were injured during the preparation of this blog.

Headed south in heavy seas, we remain. somewhat misanthropic......afc