On the way to Boca Chica Marina, our home for at least the next month, there were once again many crab pots. Mary spotted a float that was brown and more oblong shaped than usual. Every time she tried to point it out to John, it disappeared below the surface in the chop. John finally saw it as it surfaced next to the boat. It was a turtle.
Seven Mile Bridge: The open part is the old bridge, which is now a fishing pier. There is a crab pot float in the foreground.
An F-18 air escort as we approach the marina:
Mangroves on the way in:
Another hand pump-out. Think this is part of the military fitness program?
Our new home:
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