Alabama Point
Dusk was fading into darkness and while the last remaining rays in the day's sunset were disappearing beneath the horizon's surfaces, diamond like stars in the sky were once by one punching their pin holes in the night's coat offering a canvas of brightness and direction. Our thirty-six foot cabin cruiser, the Nellee, was anchored off shore, secured between Perdido Bay and the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico. The cruiser was safely anchored far enough away from the intercostal canal. The Alabama point bridge was before us offering a distant flow of headlights and night lights. The condos and beach houses dotted the shoreline with brightly painted siding or stucco. They looked like massive shadows towering amongst the sand dunes. On the Nellee, dinner was served, books were read by cabin light and conversation was exchanged concerning tomorrow's fishing adventure. Eventually, only the sounds of the lapping waves beneath the boat were heard. The gentle motion moved one into a summer's night slumber.
With anxious anticipation, heads rose well before the sun. Faces were splashed with water, sleeping bags came in off the massive deck above and the galley and stateroom bunks were quickly folded up. The sun began to rise, presenting a clear day and calm seas. The twin diesel engines began their thirsty cough and then moved into a hum of propelled movement.
It was sunrise and a fishing day. The Nellee and its crew of summer cousins were headed out to sea.