Paddling in Tampa Bay

I took my kayak out in Tampa Bay this morning, paddling out from Crist Park before dawn, passing through the canals and into the open bay north of St Pete Pier. Several docks along the narrow canals had green underwater lights burning. Fish hovered around the glow like campers at a fire; and then darted into the darkness as my prow sliced overhead.
The sun rose as I cleared the channel into the bay and I headed north for about 2 miles. The water was surprisingly shallow and I threaded my way through the shoals and sandbars, crossing one deep channel on my way to a small mangrove island where I beached and drank coffee and the day grew light.
I headed home across the channels to keep my promise of making breakfast for the wife and kids, paddling across the two channels into the wind. The rocky bottom rose almost to my keel as I passed back over the shoals and the water exploded ten yards to my right with a prolonged “whoosh.” The water crashed down, hopefully covering my very high-pitched shriek, and I waited for several minutes, hoping to hear the puff of breath that accompanies the broaching of the dolphins around the bay and bayous. Nothing. Well, nothing if you don’t count the pounding of my heart and the strain of my bowls trying valiantly not to soil my new kayak.Whatever it was, it could not have been more than four or five feet long. Thankfully, I was able to paddle home and make the family a huge cheese omelet without having to do battle in the shoals with my dinky kayak paddle. And, if you live on the bay, and you were jolted at sunrise by what sounded like an adolescent female shrieking on a carnival ride, well, I’m sorry.