The Bridge Connection

Alligator River Swing Bridge

Children sing of London’s bridges falling down.  Simon and Garfunkle sang about a bridge over troubled water and Frank Sinatra crooned over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Pierre Boulle wrote about the bridge over the River Kwai, a notorious bridge that allowed transport of Japanese munitions during World War II.   Both in literature and song, the focus on bridges whether literal or figurative have played a part in life and history.

Bridges take many forms.  There are twin bridges, arch bridges, swing bridges, bascule bridges, lift, and even pontoon bridges.  On Imagine we love the fixed 65-foot bridges that allow us to travel down the Eastern seaboard without an interruption of our trip.  

The open on demand bridges come in second. However there are many places where bridges  open only on the hour or half hour.   These bridges are often closed completely for two hours each morning and afternoon for commuter traffic.

Alligator River Swing Bridge Open

Not getting started early enough, or planning correctly, can result in a lot of circling with other boats waiting for a bridge to open.  Imagine always opts for going offshore after Lake Worth when heading south.  The next leg would include 22 opening bridges over the 36 mile Intra Coastal Waterway between there and Fort Lauderdale.  That is too many bridges for me.

Overall Florida boasts 11,451 bridges according the U.S. Department of Transportation.  That’s a long way from the 48,492 bridges that intersect and connect Texas, the state that ranks first in the nation for bridge count.  Ohio comes in behind Texas with 27,901 bridges.   New Jersey’s bridges number 6,377.  The total number of bridges crisscrossing the United States exceeds a half million at 590,111.  

I love watching the bridges open.  From the water we listen for the deep honk of a horn blowing to warn traffic that the bridge will be closing soon.   Lights stop traffic and rails lower on the road span above.   After a few moments the opening section begins to lift or swing, in the bridge is a swing bridge.   When the light turns green Imagine slowly begins to cross under and through the bridge opening.  Once through Imagine hails the bridge tender with. “Imagine clear. Thank you for the opening.”  Most tenders come back with, “Have a great winter, or enjoy your trip.” 

Then, as in life, there is the occasional individual who just is not having a wonderful day.   One tender on a bascule bridge, scheduled to be opened, on demand, yelled that he would open when he could.  Imagine circled. The tender took his time.  The delay made it impossible for us to make the next bridge where we would wait a half hour for the next opening.   Ed generously thanked the dispirited tender for the opening and did not receive a reply.   I guess everyone is entitled to a bad day.

East coast Florida bridges behind us, Imagine heads offshore for the 31 hour, 218-nautical mile trek to Marathon in the Florida Keys.   Passing Hallendale, Fort Lauderdale and Miami about five miles offshore, fireworks light up the nighttime skyline high above the lights along the shore. A brisk 17-knot east wind makes for a great sail as Imagine enters Hawk Channel. The radar glows with yellow ovals detecting the ships moving in and out of Miami harbor.   

Morning breaks as Imagine passes Key Largo and Rodgriquez Key.  Lobster pots bounce in the aquamarine waters.  On shore I try to count the bridges that join the Florida Keys like links in a bracelet.  Quickly I lose count.  I later read that there are 42 bridges connecting the keys.  There is no mistaking the Seven Mile Bridge.  It is probably the most famous bridge in Florida connecting Marathon’s Knights Key to Little Duck Key.

The original bridge was constructed from 1909 to 1912 under the direction of Henry Flagler as part of the Florida East Coast Railways Key West Extension.  It was sometimes called the Overseas Railroad.  The Seven Mile Bridge withstood all hurricanes including the one in 1935 that washed away the railroad and many lives.   This old bridge continue to provide a link for another 40 plus years until a new bridge running parallel to the old one was completed in 1982.   The new bridge includes a 65-foot span that made the use of a drawbridge over Moser Channel obsolete.

It doesn’t matter which way one crosses a bridge.  Bridges make our lives easier. They have become idioms that we use in everyday language.  One can burn bridges, bridge the gap, mend a bridge, let the water go under the bridge, and cross that bridge when we get to it.   As for the bridge tender having a bad day, perhaps he can build a bridge and get over whatever is bothering him.

 

Because all roads are not paved

Following an unpaved road might prove bumpy or smooth.  It can also open the door to experiences that create a renewed appreciation for the interconnection of man and his world.  Imagine’s recent three day journey offshore from Beaufort, NC to St. Augustine, FL brought us not only closer to warmer weather, but also to man and nature. 

Day one found Imagine zigging and zagging in an attempt to sail around U.S. Navy and Coast Guard vessels conducting exercises in the middle of our unpaved road.  Helicopters hovered in the skies and planes circled overhead as all non-military boats were cautioned to remain a mile away from the exercise zone. 

Two hours later, four miles off course, head sail now furled as Imagine was forced to turn out of the wind, Warship 5, notified Imagine that the ship was ready to do an about turn and head further out to sea. 

As Imagine worked its way back on course.  We listened to the Coast Guard redirect another boat that appeared on the horizon.  The boat was Tyler J, sailed by Nova Scotian sailors who we had sailed with for several months during our second season at sea.   Ed hailed them on the VHF.  They were headed for Charleston and eventually Belize.  Even in a vast ocean one can meet friends traveling along the unpaved road.

It was a sunny day, seas were calm and flat during this part of our off road adventure.

Later that day, and now 40 miles off shore, Ed stood watch as a small finch landed on the lifeline and hopped into the cockpit.  Making itself at home, the small bird began finding spiders hiding in the rigging and between the folds of the canvas.   At dusk, the small bird found a quiet nook in a fold of canvas and went to bed.

After sunrise, I came up for watch and the small hitchhiker startled me as it flew in under the dodger.  

For the next five hours I watch the little bird fly around the boat and come back several times with a large moth that he would wrestle with until it was subdued and ready to eat.   Ed poured water into the top of a depression on the portside winch.  The little guy immediately began to drink. 

Back on watch, just before sundown, I watched the small light brown finch land in Ed’s beard.  “He’s getting quite friendly,” Ed said as he gently shook his head preventing his new friend from getting too chummy.  As I sat behind the helm, I felt a flutter on my shoulder.  Sure enough the tiny bird was perched there.  A slight breeze ruffled its feathers while it bobbed its head up and down, back and forth before zooming in on a spider. 

When dusk settled over the ocean, the small bird again found a spot to roost for the night.  The stars filled the sky with brilliance uninterrupted by man-made light. I watched for ships and meteors.   I talked with two commercial fishing boats on the VHF to make sure we would not come too close in the night.

After I while I watched the bright lights of the phosphorescence blink and ride the crest of the wake left when Imagine plowed through the sea.  As I looked behind, I noticed two soft red spots on the Eastern horizon.   The radar didn’t show any ship from that location. 

I began to feel a bit nervous as I see the red glow getting larger.  Suddenly the puzzle comes together.  It is a new crescent moon rising out of the sea.  It is scarlet orange, reflecting from a sun that won’t rise for several hours.  The moon continues to rise. The seas are picking up and Imagine begins to roll and pitch with the waves. I go below for a much needed rest.

Back on watch at 5:00 a.m., I look forward to watching the sunrise and our little hitchhiker as he begins what I’ve termed, “entertainment for the watch.”  The sun rises among grey bands of clouds hovering over the horizon. I notice our little friend is not moving.   I begin to fear the worse, which is confirmed after I gingerly touch our wayward hitchhiker.  Maybe birds get seasick?  Maybe the rolling boat was too much? I will probably never know what happened to our little friend.  I’m sad.  At the same time I am blessed that we had this up close and personal experience with one of God’s creatures.  As my friend Michele said later, “You can’t buy that experience in a store.”

Imagine is only a few hours from it’s destination.  In the ocean off St. Augustine, the wind is picking up.  The seas are getting larger.  In pitching seas we turn into the wind and flake the mainsail.   Imagine turns circles in the channel before the Bridge of Lions waiting in queue for the next opening.   The drawbridge opens and within minutes, Imagine is secured to a mooring ball.

Porpoises leaping out and over the waves, dolphins swimming in our wake, lights in the night… ships, stars and phosphorescence, old friends, and a one small feathered hitchhiker joined us on this leg of the unpaved road.  Who knows what adventure we will find as we continue down this watery road?

Slip Sliding Down Bay

Less than a week ago Imagine was still on the hard.  Today the familiar sound of the diesel engine chugging its own tune accompanies Imagine as it slides down the Sassafras River, then through the

Imagine on hard in October

drawbridge in Georgetown where the bridge tender cautions about the new fall opening schedule.  Imagine continues towards the mouth of the river, around the first of many crab floats and into the choppy Chesapeake Bay.

Under the quickly moving heavy clouded skies, Imagine’s mainsail is reefed just in case the predictions of 15 to 20 knots winds with higher gusts prove true. There is a chill in the air, but not cold enough to make it miserable.   We are layered with sweaters, hats and gloves. It may not be sunny, but we are underway.

After a long summer of boat maintenance and repair, Imagine has joined the flotilla of migrating boats heading to points south. Overhead Canada Geese fly in formation.  They seem to honk knowingly, “About time, about time.”  

Ed tells me to go down and stay warm.  I fall asleep only to wake in time to make sandwiches for lunch.    That is when I learned that the Genoa would unfurl no more than eight feet.   It also didn’t want to furl back.  Ed managed to get all but one foot furled before we moved out of the channel and began to we dodge crab trap floats as we headed into the Rhode River to anchor for the night. 

The colorful floats attached with long lines to crab pots sitting on the bottom make it easy for crabbers to spot their lines.   For sailors, the floats can prove quite annoying as they bob and weave on the grey green waves.  As the sun rises and sets it becomes harder to spot the floats as they become lost when the sun reflects off the water.   Missing a pot and getting the line entangled in prop can quickly become a nightmare for a sailor.  

On Imagine we exercise caution and are always on the lookout for a sign that pots are about.  While annoying, crabbing is part and parcel that proclaims the heritage and character of the Chesapeake Bay.   Long before pleasure boaters claimed the Bay as their own, fishing families have made their living from the denizens of the Chesapeake, fish, crabs, eel and oysters.  That tradition continues today from the Sassafras all the way down to Norfolk.

It was a great day to sail down bay.  Late fall sailors heel and tack. The white tell tale sails of sailboats stream from Baltimore, Annapolis and the Rhode River.  Boats raced, sailing back and forth, enjoying what might be a last chance for a Sunday sail before putting their boats to bed for the winter.

On Imagine, a new anchor swivel replaced a shackle that caught in the bow roller each time I released the anchor over the last four years became an instant hit.  No longer do I have to lift the shackle and 40 pound anchor up and over the roller.   Geez!   Why did we wait so long to replace that darn shackle?

At anchor Ed unfurled the Genoa and sprayed the drum with lubricant.  As we play with the furling mechanism and sail I notice that the furling line has some substantial wear spots.  It will be replaced when we get to Beaufort N.C.

As we clean the decks and go below, Final-Lee enters the anchorage and anchors abaft of Imagine.  The 45-foot Benateau belongs to Bruce Bognaoff, and his soon to be bride, Rhonda.  They hail from Gregg Neck marina and are heading to the Bahamas for the first time.  It seems as if it is the year for Gregg Neck boaters to head south.  River Dance, Chesapeake and Adamas DeMaris have also headed south with Imagine.

It’s 6:00 p.m. and a celebratory “we are sailing again” dinner of stir-fry, mashed potatoes and filet is over and the dishes put away.  Within the hour we are both asleep…. Three hours later I wake to the sound of what I think is the bilge pump going off every two minutes.   Instantly alert, I wake Ed to realize it is only the shower sump with residual water that wouldn’t entirely suction out.   Each time the boat rocked the sump would try to pump out leftover shower water.   While he was up, Ed checked the stuffing box and all through holes.   We weren’t sinking!

Year five of Imagine’s journey has begun.  It hasn’t been without a few unexpected adventures, but we are definitely on our way.   It won’t take long to transition from land to sea.  As fall moves forward and the days become colder, Imagine will slide further south until the cold fall mornings are exchanged for sunshine and turquoise waters.

The Race is On

Cheyene and Jolene

Leaves… yellow, red and brown swirl around a piling and disappear under the dock as they chase an outgoing tide.  For a moment I continue to watch the floating denizens of fall until the racket of a ski boat breaks the silence.   The quiet moment is gone.  The race is on. 

It’s the second week of October and Imagine remains on the hard as the crew rushes to complete jobs that weren’t finished over the summer.           

Weeks recovering from knee surgery, followed by some other minor medical events, made it impossible to remain on schedule.  Painting a boat isn’t as easy as painting a wall.  Too much sun, humidity, or wind dictates and narrows the window of opportunity available to get the work done.   Perseverance and determination of the crew allowed Imagine to get painted by the end of September.  The icing on the proverbial cake was when I carefully added the new lettering and homeport decals a week later.

In addition to fresh paint, Imagine now sports a new head platform, new hoses, and a tiled floor in the head.  The shower stall has been sanded and repainted.  Eighty-four feet of toe rail, the boom cradle, handrails, and eyebrow now shine bright with three coats of lacquer. 

The bottom has been sanded and wears three new coats of ablative.  The eight chain plates have been re-bedded on deck.  Five portholes were removed to repair minor de-lamination on the cabin sides.  Cracks around the four stern rain stanchions have been ground out, repaired.  We now await for a couple of dry days when fresh coats of primer and paint will hide all repairs. 

Inside, Ed installed a new bilge and shower sump pump.  He has followed wires and climbed the mast to troubleshoot why the three-year old radar failed.   He has worked on the shaft and stuffing box and also replaced the faulty refrigeration controller.  Work continues as we await a new radar unit scheduled to arrive by the end of the week. 

Minor cracks in the kayak have been fixed with a plastic weld kit.  The dinghy cover has new reinforced sections and our American flag has been repaired.  The anchor bridle and handle for a tote bag have been re-spliced.

Rain earlier this week showered me with anxiety.  Leaving port and family is always a bittersweet affair.  I’m anxious to get underway, but know how much I will miss my family.  My three-month old granddaughter, Jolene, will be walking before I return.  I will miss hugs and kisses from Lexi, Sam, and Max.   I'll miss special events of our teenage grandauther Cheyene. Phone calls and Internet photos offer some consolation, but is not the real deal.

Choosing life on a boat requires both work and sacrifices.   According to husband, Ed, there are two levels of boating.  There are the boaters and the yachters.   Ed will tell you that boaters do all their own work while yachters have people.

As far as the sacrifices, there are friends I wanted to visit this summer and didn’t.  An opportunity to work part-time had to be turned down.  Organizations interested in hearing about Imagine’s journey on a road not paved will have to wait another year.  The biggest sacrifice has been not spending more time with family.  

As the last few days before departure tick away, time picks up speed as we move to that still unknown date.  I feel the pressure of trying to tie all the loose ends together.  Sleep is interrupted as items are mentally added to lists.  How can I get everything finished and also spend more time with family?  There is an internal tug of war as I work to balance all. 

The final deck repairs shout to be finished.  The provisioning process has barely begun.  Stress increases. I picture the caulking still to be done at the edge of the toe rail and along the trim in the cockpit.  The new radar has to be installed.  Oh poo! I have to make four covers for the fenders that protect the side of the boat from the dock.  The new boat paint while dry and fairly hard will benefit from additional curing time.  

Friends on River Dance left Gregg Neck two weeks ago and have crossed the Albemarle Sound and are deep into North Carolina.  Each day on the Single Sideband Radio, Ed listens to other cruisers give daily locations.  They are underway and many already sail in southern waters. 

I take a deep breath, and then another.  I stop, regroup, take out my list and check one more item as finished.  As the colorful leaves of autumn drop one by one on lawns, roads and bodies of water, I race forward to find the current that will soon carry me south and beyond.