Isle of Hope Marina, Savannah, Georgia

     To say that cruising the ICW through Georgia is relaxing would be a complete misrepresentation of the flavour of the trip. Valli and Mike (you remember them from the motor yacht Sanctuary) had warned us that we would likely get divorced at least 5 times before we finished our cruise...we are working on number 6!  It is stressful! Taking a 56 foot boat with 4.5 feet of draft through areas that are 2.5 feet at low tide, with rapid current and wind pushing you always out of the channel and into the propeller bending shallows, is stressful.

                                                                                                                                                                      

      It takes hours to figure out what the tide will be in a narrow shallow area by the time you get there (which depends on the current, wind and tide when you leave and on your way to the propeller destroying shallow area!).  Now, throw in meeting a trawler and believe it or not, a cruise ship (Carnivals Atlantic Star) in two of three narrow areas that you have been apprehensive about, along with an Admiral that is constantly pointing out crab traps that are 2 miles ahead (that you have already seen!) and constantly saying that you are out of the channel when you are trying to get back in the channel, add in biting horse flies( that I am told are so big this year they are going to put licence plates on their wings)  occasionally taking their lunch out of your leg. .....well....you can see...how someone with a quick temper (and quick to forgive and forget, I might add ) might just be a little bit irritable and prone to raising his or her voice.

                                                                               

                                                                                 

                                                                                   
     Even poor Spencer was having a bad day.  First of all he picked up a tick on his back when we were on Cumberland Island, so was not feeling well and really didn't like us swatting at the flies with a newspaper. Curled up in the second helm seat on the upper deck he was sleeping when all of a sudden he let out a yelp, snapped at his back side and jumped over into my lap and he cursed. I heard him say "Bastard horse fly, bit my ass, Daddy!"
     I would be remiss if I did not mention "Hell Gate"  Maybe it was fatigue, maybe it was stress. maybe it was Alzheimer's, maybe it was the fear of having to go through one of the most frequent areas for boats to go aground, but as we approached the shallow, narrow,  rapid current passage that I had been most worried about, I caught a flash of something out of the corner of my eye. I felt the hair raise on the back of my neck and shivers ran down my arms and spine....I thought I saw an open hand rise out of the water, grasping for the sky (or maybe grasping for the boat)! It was so real that I pulled the throttles back to see if it was a body floating under the surface.  White faced, I looked around the water surface and saw nothing, so with trepidation we proceeded on.
      It is not just us.  We met a nice couple from Portland, Maine (John and Debbie on the sailboat Feeling Lucky) who got tired of watching their neighbourhood change with the influx of third world refugees, so sold their home, bought a sail boat and are experiencing the same frustrations (not including the hand hallucination, I am sure they would want me to add!) and arguments that infect us. We all laughed about our experiences over sun downers and pot luck supper later, on the day we arrived. When I told them about "the hand", they told me that indeed a small boat was found empty and people were looking for a lost boater! (do you hear the theme song from jaws in your head! I did!)

                                                             Sunrise...Savannah, Georgia             

     Next day the four of us signed out the courtesy car to travel to down town Savannah not only to get supplies for the boat at West Marine, but also to get the flavour of this sultry southern town.  It just happened that the tall sailing ships were coming into port for a visit.  We marvelled at old three masted vessels from France, Brazil and the tug boat named "Penobscot Bay" (I guess Maine's contribution).

                                                                                

                                                                                    

      Heavy oaks draped with Spanish moss lined streets which seemed to almost always wind around a small park with a fountain. We stopped at a beautiful cathedral, St John the Baptist, which I entered only after Debbie assured me that a big thumb wouldn't come down through the ceiling crushing me with a loud voice saying "you piss me off!  Beth took lots of pictures saying , "I might never get him into a church again!"

                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                           

                                                                       Pipe Organ                   
                                                                                 
     It was hot. I guess we are acclimated to being on the water. We stopped and got a beer to go, than later a 12 pack, which was enough to last until we found ourselves lost in the environs of Savannah.  Thank heavens for smart phones. As John passed the same car wash for the 3rd time, Beth and he finally asked their phones for direction back to the marina....Deb and I just opened another beer. We laughed as we exchanged boat stories good and bad (even some of the curse words used during the bad times were the same!!)
      Arriving at Isle of Hope marina we were joined by Evelyn and Sid from Woodstock, Ontario in the boat named "Something Special". They brought over Eldon and Dianne Morrison from the boat "Maine Visions."(We first saw Maine Visions At Morning Star Marina in St. Simmonds Island but did not meet the owners.) It turns out that Eldon is from Perry, Maine and Dianne from Eastport, Maine...both of which are home to us.  We talked about all kinds of people we knew in common and the Fundy Bay in general. Eldon and Dianne had already done most of the great loop and were heading back to their home in Yarmouth, Maine.
      As Beth prepared a good home cooked meal of  roast beef, mashed potatoes, peas and corn, the rest of us continued in the party mode.  A little dancing and the music got louder.  John seemed partial to having the volume up to almost the level that I usually listen at around three in the morning, but because of the closeness of the marina I turned it down.  Sid and Evelyn seemed amazed that Beth could throw a meal together that quickly,y and thanked us profusely before retiring, so at the end only the Mainers were left standing.

Deb, Sid, Eldon and Dianne

                                                        Eldon, Dianne and Evelyn.

                                                                    John and Ralph                                                 

     Even though we had hangovers the next day there was work to be done. Up at six am, I started the oil change for the mains and generator.  All of the filters including the oil spinners had to be changed out and 12 gallons of old oil carried up the ramp to the disposal shed (not my recommendation for working off a hangover!)  The salon air conditioner crapped out so I tore into it and couldn't solve the issue while Beth started the party clean up on the upper deck.  "Someone dropped and broke a beer bottle up top. Watch your feet," she griped.  Smiling meekly I responded, "Now, who could have done that and not picked it up!"
     Eldon and Dianne left for Beaufort after coming over to exchange boat cards. We promised to meet up with them for drinks in Eastport.  Sid and Evelyn went to the Tall ship sailing adventure in down town Savannah and would be leaving the next day.  John and Debbie ( I hope she is still talking to me after all the jokes I made, nick naming her "swallow"!...rest of the story left untold!) would be staying around till Sunday, then headed back up to New Jersey and maybe the Maritimes . We still had fuel filters to change, and a boat to prepare for a month of being closed up. We would be leaving,  Beth for Naples and me for Beaumont. I would have to finish one more month at work before we could continue this journey in earnest.
      In reflection, this has not been the relaxing cruise I thought it would be.  It has been a challenge. It has been stressful, but we have seen many amazing things and met interesting friendly people. Our children R.J. and Crystal and grandchild, Dean (one of the grandchildren we have yet to see!) are going to come home for International Festival in Calais/St. Stephen.  Hoping we may be able  to get most of the grandchildren on the boat to go whale watching in the bay of Fundy this summer we will persevere and continue the adventure.

Cumberland Island, Georgia

     Magical! That's the only term I can think of to describe Cumberland Island. An uneventful cruise from Vero Beach brought us in to the safety of the Dungeness anchorage off Cumberland Island.  From a distance it first appeared like most of the islands we passed except, the foliage appeared....well, thicker. Why? We quickly got the anchor set, the dingy launched and Spencer into his life jacket, and motored around the few other anchored trawlers and sail boats to go explore the island before it got dark.  What was it that made this island look different from a distance, thicker woods with a hazy mist rising from the interior?  Even Spencer appeared more alert and curious as we got closer to the island. As we closed the distance to the dock we saw people lined up waiting to get on a boat to take them back to the mainland. They had carts full of coolers, tents and sleeping bags lined up as they patiently waited to board the trawler that served as the ferry to the island.

                                                                            

                                                                                    

     We tied up the dingy to the floating dock (6 ft tides to deal with now), got Spencer's life jacket off and his leash on and jumped up onto the dingy dock.  Spencer tugged at the leash as we walked up the dock towards the park rangers sea camp.  No one around. Even the park ranger takes the last ferry to the mainland so we started down the first path labelled "Beach".  All Beth talked about as we neared the anchorage was of getting pictures of the wild horses roaming free on Cumberland Island but she got much more.  We walked around a couple of trees and stopped in our tracks, our jaws dropped.  Before us lay a forest of 400 year old oak trees with low hanging thick knobbly branches and long spindly vines hanging from their limbs, dripping with Spanish moss that hung almost to the ground. No wonder the island appeared thick! This was timber that had never been harvested. This is what it must have looked like hundreds of years ago.

                                                                                                     

     A few dirt roads crossed the island and hiking trails labelled interior, beach, and ruins were clearly marked but it was getting late, so we headed toward the beach hoping that we would see the horses.  The deeper into the woods we walked, the more eerie was the scenery, with the low hanging limbs of the oak trees forming a canopy over the paths and dirt road blocking out the vestiges of a late afternoon sun.  It could have been a scene out of a Harry Potter movie.  At any time one could expect an elf or a unicorn to step out from behind an aged oak tree or palmetto palm bush.  There were campers but the sites were situated such that you could only see smoke arising from their camp fires and other than when we passed the bathroom and sun showers we could not hear them. 
     We got to a long wooden board walk that exited the forest and crossed over about a half mile of sand dunes.  A sign was placed "Do not walk on the sand dunes."  I laughed as I quipped. " Ya, tell the horses that!  Their hoof prints are all over the place."  The sand was the soft light sugar granules that was so dry it merely put a fine warm dust on our bare feet which we watched closely so as not to step in the horse manure occasionally deposited in the path to the beach.  Surprisingly there was no odour to the manure.  Beth (my resident horse expert) explained that because these horses are wild and aren't fed grain and antibiotics their manure is mostly odour free.

                                                                              

                                                                                 

                                                                                

     With effort we wound our way through the sand, our feet slipping a little as the sand gave away with each step.  We could hear it long before we could see it but there it was, the Atlantic ocean. We could see the white surf breaking on the beach behind which was a vista of blue ocean. The breeze was fresh and quickly started to fill in the foot prints we left in the sand dunes.  Miles to each side was the flat beach. No stones. No pebbles. No sea weed. Simply beach leading to the white mounded sand dunes leading to thick woods.  Simply beautiful.
     Beth almost immediately spotted a few dots on the sand dunes about a mile away and exclaimed. "There they are!"
 "There what are?" I questioned.
 "The horses. Over there. Lets go. " She yelled as she took off toward what I thought were a few bushes on the dunes.  Sure enough,as we got closer I could recognized three horses with their necks arched forward grazing on the sparse bushes that sprouted from the dunes.
 "Have you thought about the fact that they are wild and might attack us! What are you going to do if they chase you ? " I said to the back of her head. " Maybe we should just hold an apple in the air, here next to the water, so we can run into the water and get away if they come after us." A country boy I am not!
 Well she got her pictures and I got comfortable with the horses and actually approached a young stallion close enough for Beth to get a picture...that was until Spencer barked and the stallion started pounding his forefoot, which Beth said was an act of aggression so get back! The park warden later explained that the horses were not really aggressive and were probably curious about the little dog.
                                                                                 

                                                                          

        The island was so interesting that we stayed anchored here for three days. The park rangers gave walking tours and a naturalist lecture in the afternoon.  We heard that the island was owned by the famous Carnegie family who had two estates built.  One was set on fire.  They even had pictures of the fire.  Apparently, the gamekeeper on the island shot at a couple of poacher's who were taking deer off the island. He wounded one in the leg. Later, the wounded poacher's brothers got their revenge by not only setting fire to the mansion but also shooting holes in the Carnegie's boat as it sat at the dock!

                                                                                 

                                                                                        
     On the return to Doc's Holiday we stopped to talk to Sid the captain of Something Special (flying a Canadian Flag).  He was in his dingy talking to John on Feeling Lucky (from Portland, Me)...as soon as John's wife Debbie offered us a beer...it was on!  Great folks, all of them, so we invited them for cocktails back on our boat and spent an interesting evening talking about the adventures of cruising in general.  Something Special was on the way back to Ontario after having spent time in the Great Lakes, the Gulf Coast, the Florida Keys and the Bahamas.  All that travelling and Evelyn, Sids wife, looks like she just stepped out of a beauty salon whether it be 8 am or 10 pm. How does she do that?
Feeling Lucky was on their way back to New Jersey and then maybe Portland, Maine.  Their trials and tribulations very much resembled our own and John's thrill of feeling the sails fill and the rush when the boat jumps ahead under sail was infectious, almost converting me to sail instead of power.
We spent an evening enjoying the freedom and carefree boating life style and the feeling that we were part of a privileged few who had worked hard enough to enable us to engage this way of life.

                                                                                        

     There was more to see, like a tour of the refurbished estate on the north end of the island but after hiking the trails and exploring the ruins and walking the beach, it was time to go.  My vacation was in its final week and we wanted to get the boat where we knew it would be looked after until I could finish up work and return to continue the adventure to Maine.  Savannah, Georgia was beckoning.-
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