Sunken treasure

Paradise in July... Hmmm... its hot, and sticky, and while there's a breeze on the second tier, its a warm, humid breeze that wraps round me like a blanket. Remaining upright and breathing requires enough effort that turning my head makes me break a sweat.(Yeh, I know ladies "glow")The water near shore is bathwater temperature, and its so flat calm that the rafts of sea grass encroaching onshore look like invading armies. The water in the moat is so still and clear all the Cassiopea are visible in their somewhat innocuous glory. Those suckers look innocent, and kind of cool, and will sting the daylights out of you. The day I arrived, as I was crossing the bridge, I felt my favorite anklet let go and slither through the boards. There was a gentle splash as it hit the water. I marched on into the ranger's office, and announced I had a problem. Ranger Trep courteously informed me I'd get stung if I went in the moat after it, and was an anklet really worth that? I'd have been inclined to agree with Trep, but I'm stubborn, and it is my favorite. We agreed that I could make the attempt in a kayak, and that I'd do it later in the day, after our visitors left. I decided since I was going to all that effort, I'd also make the circuit and fish out any trash that had collected in the moat. I'd put a lot of thought into how not to actually end up in the moat. So I went in search of the dip net, and the "grabber", and couldn't find either. The only net available had rusted off its support pole, and the grabber was AWOL....Kind of typical round here. Despite one's best efforts, distractions can happen, and things get temporarily misplaced. In the case of the net, rust happens. Its a given. Everything will rust eventually. Its one of the reasons our fort looks so picturesque. The metal shutters placed in the window embrasures have rusted over time, and the metal expansion is pushing the brick sheathing into the moat. I actually like looking at the areas where the sheathing has fallen away. There are concealed arches within the walls which simply aren't visible when the place is in pristine shape. Its like looking at a beautiful staircase from the back side, and seeing all the structural details that make it "float" so beautifully. Back to the moat. I managed to get the kayak in the water, and set off with my supply of gloves, and trash bags, paddling against a light wind which sprang up as I rounded the bastion which houses Dr Mudd's "dungeon" cell. It was an easy trip to the bridge, then a exercise in agility. I'd decided I might have been imagining hearing a splash, and that with any luck the anklet had actually landed on one of the slate topped supports. Standing up in a kayak, while clinging to the masonry support was challenging. I disturbed a number of small crabs, who scrambled to avoid my fingers,...and the anklet wasn't there. Meanwhile my paddle had slipped off the kayak, and was being carried away by the gentle breeze. After a dicey maneuver, during which I narrowly avoided falling in the moat, I was reseated in the kayak, once more in posession of my paddle. I maneuvered round the other bridge support, marveling about how clear the water was, and how clearly I could see all those Cassiopea... Finally, I saw it! My anklet was resting on a sandy patch just under the bridge, and those lovely Venetian glass beads were sparkling. Keeping a weather eye out for moat life, I reached in the water and grabbed it. Circumspection had unexpected benefits. Because I'd waited till our visitors left, it was low tide, and the bottom was within reach from the kayak. No need for a personal encounter with the jellyfish. Primary mission accomplished, I paddled round fishing wrappers and other detritus out of the moat. Another small adventure in Paradise...