A BRIDGE TOO FAR

Day 19 and 20

It's been subtly brought to my attention that I really needn't be pissing and moaning about the bridges of South Florida…it's really minutia if you think about it. And what's more, this is a vacation from reality. So I apologize for the rant-like complexion of my last post…that'll be enough about bridges. Except for this... So I'm in South Hollywood and I'm trying to get a jump on the last remaining bridges…a real jump…a "leave the dock at 4:45 a.m" jump. I make the first couple of bridges, no problem…cruising through the city before the city has awakened. It's dark still, but the canals are lined with lights so navigation is easy-peezie. It's now 6 a.m. and the next bridge isn't responding to my call. I get closer and notice the tender's box is dark. Huh? I check the water-way guide and it says it doesn't open until 8 a.m.  Ha ha ha..I'm an idiot for not reading 4 bridges ahead, but "closed"…seriously? No recreational traffic,  no commercial traffic, no water taxi, no barge, no tall guy on a paddle-board… really? Never heard of such, but hey, I'm not one to complain so I tie up to a private dock and change the oil in the engine. This was on my list of "to do's" for today so I might as well get it done now. It takes me about an hour (counting clean up) but it could have taken me twice that long because the bridge opened 15 minutes late!  Oh Lawd … I love bridges.

I meander through Miami bright and early. Some folks hate this city…not me. It's so diverse, and cool…and hot. I love it….only wish I could savor this morning's float-by, but the water-traffic pattern is confusing for a first-timer and the chart plotter isn't clearly defining the ICW….and I need to get to Key Biscayne. 

I make one last fuel stop before getting too far south. I do a really lousy job of docking the boat…Steve jumps off and the owner comes out to yell at me about him not being on a leash…as I'm pulling away my fishing rod gets snagged and plops into the water. The gas attendant graciously offers to get a boat hook to fish it out , but that's enough of this place: "Keep it." I yell, "I wasn't gonna catch anything anyway." 

Only a couple of miles further and I come to a little "honey-hole" in lower Key Biscayne called "No Name Harbor." It's a really cool little (and really pretty) spot…a narrow entrance opens up to a cove surrounded by mangos on one side and a long continuous bulkhead on the other. You can dock anywhere along the wall or anchor out and dinghy in. There's only one amenity here…an open-air restaurant. It's a good one too…but the one $6 beer I had made me think twice about dining. It's a popular spot tho, with lots of day trippers coming over from Miami…and lots of stream crossers staging their departure from the US. The restaurant has a steady flow of patrons all day and into the night...people spend the night in the harbor for a nominal fee. 

I'm beat. The 4 a.m. wake-ups have sapped me and I still have lots to do to prepare for the crossing…primarily, pull the dinghy up on the deck. I use a winch and spare halyard to lift the 100 lb. dink up and over the lifelines. It's a two-man job, but I get it done eventually…and notice from the slime-coated hull that 3 weeks in the water takes its toll on everything. The dink barely fits on this little boat…but "they" say to never do blue-water runs with your dinghy in tow. "They" say it'll slow you down….you'll risk it filling with water…and then you'll have no choice but to cut it free. It's rare that I care, even rarer that I heed, whatever it is that "they" say…but this is my virgin run, so I'll capitulate….this time. 

My weather window for crossing is "now." The winds and seas are supposed to relax for 24 hours before a front moves south and hangs around long enough to strand everyone stateside. I'm planning on 10 - 12 hours, meaning I should probably leave around 10 pm in order to get to Bimini with good sun. The entrance into Bimini is notorious for shifting sands and you don't want to be navigating it in the dark. Steve and I doze off at 4 pm…my alarm is set for 10 pm but I make the mistake of not muting my phone and a telemarketer wakes me at 6 pm. Now I'm too excited to go back to sleep. Captain Bruce says: Go now!" So I pull up anchor, ease over to shore for Steve's farewell evacuation…and at 7:55 I'm off. 

It's a nice night…1/2 moon…winds 10-15 and seas 2-4 feet. I knock back two unfathomably awful cups of coffee and head south. Bimini is almost directly across from Biscayne, but the Gulf Stream rages northerly and it'll set me 15 miles above my target if I simply take a straight heading. So I hedge south for a couple of hours before turning and riding the Stream back north. I leash Steve so that he'll refrain from walking the decks…it'd be hell seeing or hearing him fall off…and snowball in hell finding him once he's over. 

Coffee be damned, the lack of sleep and constant rolling of the sea are nodding me off. "They" say single-handlers do multiple day voyages by setting an alarm every 20 minutes…getting up and doing a 360 check for shipping traffic….then going back down. At mid-night I double-check my bearing and go out for 20. I remain topside (snuggling with a nervous Steve) so that I can get to the wheel quickly and the first couple of times I wake before the timer goes off. As 2 a.m. rolls around…I'm sleeping the full 20 minutes. 

I only have one freighter to contend with…and several cruise-liners too far off in the distance for concern. The wind and seas die down nicely for about an hour or two…then they return slightly more amped. My GPS says I'll arrive at 7:20 a.m. ….by 5:30 I terminate my naps. The wind is up to 18 Kts and I can make better time, albeit a rougher ride. I'm hoping to find someone exiting the entrance about the time I'm arriving…I could use some local knowledge. No such luck, but I make it through slowly…It's 7:25…Bimini time.

I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW...

Bimini isn't much to look at from the inside passage…kinda dumpy, really. I'm a tad disappointed, but in reality, it's just like most Caribbean islands…poverty stricken beyond the property lines of the resorts.

I dock without permission…gather my documents and head for the Customs Office. I'm worried about Steve's documents. I had to jump through some Bahamian hoops to get his permit BEFORE coming here. They also required a health certificate from his Vet…and it's supposed to be less than a week old. I asked my Vet not to date the certificate because I had no idea when I would reach Bimini but I knew it wouldn't be within a week. She was too much of a wuss to post-date it. I said, "Don't post-date it….just leave it blank." She said she could lose her license if she did that. Like that's gonna happen...Wuss.

So I'm not a kind person. Sorry but It just doesn't come easily…get over it.  But oh you should see me when I'm at the mercy of a custom's agent….man, am I a sweetie. So I've got a crew member with outdated papers and I'm stressing. I envision Steve awaiting K-9 trial in a dark, dirt-floored, feces-covered cell with a bunch of his mange-laden brethren taunting him because he has a beard.  So yeah, I'm stressing. The customs docs have no line items specific to pets…so I ever-so-apologetically ask. "I have a dog, but I don't see anything here regarding pets…Does immigration handle that?" Without looking up the agent asks for Steve's papers and before I can shove them completely under the window. B A M !!!!  He stamps Steve's permit and slides me the rest of my paperwork. 

Yeah baby! Am I a charmer or what? 

Wait…it was me, right?

It's too bouncy to prepare meals during an ocean run…so I stuff my pockets with animal crackers (not the real ones, the cardboard  ones sold in  bushel bags at Walmart). I munch at my leisure while at the helm. As a result, this morning I am Jones'n for something substantial. I leave Steve on the boat and go to the Big Game Resort restaurant located right by the docks. God-Dayum that was a good breakfast! Several days back I had thrown away my eggs.. not because they'd gone bad, but because they were taking up too much room in my fridge. So this morning's omelette (with bacon and pepper-jack cheese), and hash browns with onions along with my first real cup of coffee since St. Augustine were savored like freedom to an inmate. While blissfully dining, the rains come. 

All of my boat hatches are open…the companion way door…and no telling what is lying outside in the cockpit. So be it… I ain't leaving this breakfast to go close the boat: (A) It's raining straight down, not sideways (B) It'll probably blow over soon ( C ) I'll get soaked just running out there. Subsequently: (A) It doesn't let up  (B) it blows sideways…and ( C ) I have to borrow the dock master's poncho to stave off the deluge. When I get to the boat it's almost wetter inside than out. Bed sheets are soaked, the seat cushions have become temporary sponges, the rug squishes…everything, including the food, Steve's bed, Steve, the head and most of my clothes. It's bad…and I really don't care. Steve's passport stamp and that breakfast of Champions has me feeling no pain. Besides, I love the rain…Always have. 

Capt. Bruce and my brother-in-law have both texted me today, advising me to go explore the island and be sure and check out the marinaded conch salad at "Stuarts." The rain has passed…and that's exactly what we're going to do.