Hydrophobia

No summer is complete without a harrowing tale that lives in the shadows of possibility.

Alfred Hitchcock still ranks among the top movie directors of all time and once during an interview he explained his formula for a successful film. “It’s simple,” Hitchcock explained. “When you make an audience nervous; they pay attention.”

The following is a foreboding Beach Boy Chronicle that emerges from deep in our mangroves. As most of us are well aware, a vast mangrove jungle surrounds our safe haven of Marco, Goodland, and the Isles of Capri. A jungle so dense and impenetrable that many mysteries have simply gone missing…until they reappear.

The word hydrophobia harbors a frightening double-edged meaning. At first glance, a dictionary will describe rabies as an age-old and deadly virus that passes from animal to animal…or sometimes, from animal to human.

The second part of the double-edge definition describes hydrophobia as an extreme fear of water. A fear of water of any type. A fear of the Gulf of Mexico. A fear of a swimming pool. Even the fear of drinking water. Ironically enough, animals that have contracted the zombie-like rabies virus display a foaming of the mouth. A constant dripping of bubbling saliva that becomes agitated by rapid biting and snapping movements that are also symptoms of the ancient virus.

Despite our many fears and phobias, humans are curious and Marco and Capri residents are no exception. For many, a boat behind a home on a canal can offer endless possibilities. After a few months of exploring the local waterways however, many tire of the familiar scenery and find the easy islands and watercourses too easy. After all, there are reportedly Ten Thousand Islands in our neighboring archipelago. Ten thousand possibilities that are demanding attention and waiting for the seekers of an ultimate adventure.

On the local nautical charts, the Blackwater River is a listed waterway, but further south and into the distant island tributaries other moving water also turns black when the summer rains wash the stains from the mangroves into where some are now afraid to go.

When Felix came to Marco, he came with his wife and together they bought a home on the water. They also bought a boat. After several months of safely boating the local waterways, Felix became bored. He wanted more adventure and he wanted to explore the almost endless waterways and islands south of Marco.

On a fine summer morning in the middle of August, Felix packed a cooler, and filled up his boat with gas. Felix was alone because, although his wife loved the boat and short excursions, she found the vast emptiness of the southern islands and the black water of the mangrove waterways frightening.

After miles of cruising and realizing that he had found a beautiful beach with no other human in sight, Felix ran his boat up on the sand beside a river-like waterway with a dense jungle of mangroves on either side. With the small boat beached on the sand, Felix began to explore. 

Meanwhile, a full moon was rising with the tide as the sun began to slant toward the west. After Felix spent the better part of an hour exploring the desolate beach, he noticed behind him a trio of raccoons following as he was heading back to his boat. Felix understood that raccoons were nocturnal and should not be aggressively prowling the beach in the sunshine. Raccoons out in the daylight could only mean the animals were infectious with the deadly rabies virus. With the raccoons picking up the pace, and beginning to snap and chatter behind him, Felix began to trot toward the safety of his boat. This was when, in perfect slow-motion timing, the stern of the only boat on the beach rose with a wave and broke free from the sandy shore. With the floating boat now moving rapidly with the tidal current toward a disappearing bend in the mangrove river Felix turned to face the advancing pack of raccoons that must be dangerous and contagious with rabies.

Before another thought was possible, the lonely explorer on the desolate beach was suddenly swimming in the black water toward the disappearing boat. Even though Felix was now in the fast-moving current and pursuing his boat, he heard behind him in the moving stream, the relentless and dreaded snapping and chattering of the three swimming raccoons. The aggressive animals with the sharp teeth were following him.

Up ahead, the floating boat finally snagged on a little muddy shoal next to the mangroves. The boat tilted as it suddenly ran aground and Felix’s cooler spilled out over the gunnel and opened in the water. The current was fast and soon floating sandwiches in zip-lock baggies were floating in the current. When Felix gained the muddy shoal and tried to climb up to his boat, he sank down to his waist in what he suddenly believed was south Florida quicksand. As he struggled to free himself, his shorts were pulled off by the mangrove mud. The more Felix tried to escape the mud and free his boat the more he became covered in the black primordial ooze of the Ten Thousand Islands.

Meanwhile, the trio of belligerent raccoons was swimming past the unfolding quicksand scene, and swimming toward the floating baggies with sandwiches and other sweet-smelling food that was bobbing along the waterway and not far away. 

After an exhausting hour of tugging, sinking in the mud, and pulling his boat away from the mangrove shoal and relentless quicksand, and the attacking raccoons, Felix was head to toe, and without his shorts, covered in the black mud that was everywhere. When he finally gained the deck of his refloated boat and started the engine, he heard the whine and then the roar of another boat rapidly approaching. With Felix standing in his boat completely covered in the sticky mud, a foursome of everglades fisher folk rode by laughing as they saw the muddy man without clothes who was foaming at the mouth because of swallowing so much saltwater.

After that fateful day on the water - that his wife never learned about - Felix sold his boat because he now had hydrophobia - an extreme fear of the water.