I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

– John Masefield

I must always go down to the seas. As an easterner spending the greater part of my life in the midwest, the seas have always called and I must always answer. It is about an hour and fifteen minutes of a not very fun drive to get down and over to Anna Maria Island from where we are now. About one mile of travel takes at least three or four minutes through the busy thoroughfare through Bradenton from I-75 after waiting for traffic, light changes and just a darn busy road.

But the sea, ahhh, the sea. Well, the gulf. Windswept and wave-tosssed with rip-tide warnings, it was the weather itself that kept me from being tempted to bring my paddleboard or swim suit. But a walk on the beach – yes, that is always sublime.