(2015 America’s Great Loop Memoir)
After our foggy adventure from Carrabelle, Fla. to Tarpon Springs, we had a good night’s sleep then hauled up the anchor the next day and made the short trip to Clearwater where we looked forward to a few days of rest in a marina. Clearwater, Fla. is where in 1982 we spent several weeks in our 36-foot Cheoy Lee sailboat, while awaiting a new engine. The basin we anchored in was still there. The boatworks was not.
On that trip, Mark and I had just been married, and we had my two kids 8 and 12 with us. But that’s another story.
Rested, we headed out of Clearwater, finding anchorages near islands close to shore at night. Two days later we holed up in an anchorage to wait out a storm, but also to recuperate from inconsiderate drivers who speed by you a few yards away, not caring that their wakes roll and bounce you around like a ping pong ball. I’ve learned to restrain myself and not give the third finger salute. They wouldn’t see it anyway.
Fighting wakes in an area full of sport fishers and large shallow-draft boats that go faster than a speeding bullet—right in the narrow Gulf ICW channel because outside they have to go a posted speed to protect manatees—was bad enough. But I was recovering from another challenge…bridges.
In one day we encountered thirteen bridges. Not tall ones like the Golden Gate, but bridges with 10 to 25 feet of overhead clearance from water to bottom of the bridge, posted on a tideboard. Most are bascule bridges that open in the center when you call-in to the bridge operator and ask for an opening.
Or not. Mark decided our boat is ten feet high from water line to its highest point with a few extra feet for antennas. Call for an opening? Whatever for?
Most of the bascules were tall enough. I admit I closed my eyes a few times when the tide board said we had 19 feet or less. I totally freaked out when we got to a swing bridge with nine feet of clearance at low tide. Mark did call for an opening, but the operator said hey, you’ve got 14 feet if you go to the very edge of the channel. The bridge is lowest in the middle.
“No problem. I’ll lower my antennas.”
“But what about the kayak on the roof?” I said.
“Might be close.”
I admit I covered my head and squealed like a pig as we went under that one. Didn’t hear any scraping sounds, but boy was I happy to get to the other side.
My next challenge will be five locks on the Okeechobee Waterway as we go across the center of Florida from west to east. My job will be to hold the stern of an eight-ton boat against the wall by holding a rope as water enters or exits.
I can hardly wait. (Gulp)
So much fun to read! Thank you for the stories.