As seems to be usual, we picked an ugly town to marina ourselves in [is marina a verb?]. The marina itself was the worst we have encountered yet. Got stuck ["shoally-hit!"] in the middle of the channel on the way in, got ourselves off, then hit bottom several times more on our way to our not-quite-deep-enough slip. Pelican poles were so far off the much-too-short finger piers that we had serious trouble getting into the slip; had to double the dock lines to make them long enough to tie the stern cleats to the way-out-there pelican poles. Then had to climb over the bow to get onto the finger piers.
So, instead of hanging out there another day, we figured to head south the next morning, again. That makes 3 nights in a row that we found a marina, planned to stay and extra day, aborted that plan and got the hell out of Dodge.
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