Dry Tortugas Ferry Reservations Link -

Margo had planned this trip for eighteen months. The Dry Tortugas National Park—seventy miles west of Key West, a hexagonal fort rising from aquamarine water like a mirage—was supposed to be her and her father’s final adventure. But cancer had made other reservations.

The Yankee Freedom III ferry sat docked at the end of Margaret Street, its twin hulls gleaming white in the pre-dawn heat. Margo clutched her confirmation email like a winning lottery ticket. She’d woken up at 3 a.m. to book it exactly two months in advance, the moment the reservation window opened. The website had crashed twice. Her credit card had been declined because the bank thought it was fraud. But she’d persevered. dry tortugas ferry reservations

Margo almost dropped the wooden box.