CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR: THE LAKE, LOCKS AND BIG AG

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR: THE LAKE, LOCKS AND BIG AG

Sunday, January 13, started with a smooth early departure from Indiantown Marina at around 7:30 a.m. The rest of the boaters were sleeping in, after a night of bacchanalia under the banyan trees. Just kidding. There was a marina potluck that we were invited to, and they held it on an open patio under some trees still covered with bright sparkly white lights. Slow Motion was about fifty feet away from the party, and I have to say I didn’t hear anything after about 9 p.m. The cruising days of getting up by 7 a.m. in order to leave by 7:30 a.m., then navigating Slow Motion down the waterway for the next 7 or 8 hours, are surprisingly fatiguing. It’s not that we’re busy every minute of the cruising day – I can read several chapters of a book up in the flying bridge, as the Admiral sits at the helm. Most of the time that we have been on the Okeechobee Waterway, Slow Motion has been on autopilot, so steering is not an issue. Still, we have to be constantly on the lookout for objects in the water that could dent a propeller and for shallow water that could force us to run aground. And while we’re looking for those hazards, oh by the way, is that a bald eagle over there in the tree without leaves? Why yes it is! How about that aqua blue bird with the long legs and huge wing span? Ho-hum, just another magnificent blue heron. More snowy egrets? Can this really be happening? Are these gorgeous birds here all the time on the OWW, or did they just show up on January 13 and 14 to give us a private showing? Observing natural beauty never gets old. And the OWW has more than its fair share of natural beauty.

The OWW also “treated” us to falling ashes from the fires set in the nearby sugar cane fields. As we were cruising along looking for the all-white pelicans, suddenly all-black flakes of ashes came raining down on Slow Motion. We had the side windows open on the flying bridge, and they started pouring in from the sides, landing on the controls, the floor and the cushions. They were also landing all over Slow Motion’s lily white decks. What, no Environmental Protection Agency at work in this part of Florida? The Admiral muttered something about “Big Ag” being in control, and nobody messes with Big Ag. I guess the Florida Governor and the Senators have not taken a boat ride on the OWW recently – or perhaps ever. Clean up your own house, first, Florida, before you start telling the rest of the country how to create jobs, or balance a budget – anyone can do that if they ignore luxury items things like clean air.

There are headlines about big changes afoot to save both Lake Okeechobee and the Everglades, which have been diminished in size for years and years, as agriculture and urban development have both taken their toll. More than 700,000 acres of the original Everglades that were located immediately south of Lake Okeechobee have been converted to the Everglades Agricultural Area. Way to go, Big Ag! And areas along the eastern border of the Everglades are now urban. Half of the original Everglades wetlands of 2.9 million acres has been converted for human uses. And there are a lot of humans now living in Florida, more than 19 million. The prognosticators in the 1940’s and 1950’s predicted that Florida would have 2 million people by the year 2000. Turned out that Florida was/is an over-achiever when it comes to attracting people to live here – and an under-achiever in protecting the Everglades, Lake Okeechobee, and the natural environment needed to keep the State flourishing. According to the South Florida Water Management District, the health of Lake Okeechobee “was threatened in recent decades by excessive nutrients from agricultural and urban activities in the lake’s watershed, by harmful high and low water levels and by the spread of exotic vegetation.”

 And so, as we crossed Lake Okeechobee this weekend, which was at a near record depth of 15 feet, we were mindful that there are efforts, begun with legislation in 2000 (Lake Okeechobee Protection Act), to protect the second largest freshwater lake in the United States (next to Lake Michigan). And we know that we were fortunate to be able to take advantage of the above-average rainfall last year in this area of Florida. If the Lake goes below a certain level, no crossings are allowed, the locks are closed, and everyone goes somewhere else. Maybe other cruisers got the memo about the raining ash flakes and are already staying away from this waterway. Most of the time that we cruised from lock to lock and marina to marina, we did not see other boats. For three of the locks we were the only boat inside, when the lock master closed us in and released the water. When we tied up at Moore Haven City after going through the Moore Haven Lock, we were joined an hour later by Jeannine and Richard in their cruiser, Chez Nous. But that was it. Otherwise, the Moore Haven City Docks, 400 feet of face dock, were empty. The 200 feet of face dock of a private marina right next door were also empty. And there was one restaurant open on Sunday – a Burger King. This does not look like a prosperous area. It appears that the residents know that the days of the OWW are numbered. And who knows what the sugar cane industry will do, when (if) a substantial part of their acreage is returned to its natural wetlands status? LaBelle, Florida, a little town at mile marker 103 on the OWW (25 miles west of Moore Haven), has a backup plan. They have the Harold P. Curtis Honey Company, which maintains 1000 bee hives and has earned La Belle the sobriquet “Honey Capital”. It would be nice if the bees and their hives were allowed to remain, if this area goes back to wetlands.

Before you get to LaBelle, there is one more really exciting lock, the Ortona Lock at mile marker 93.5, where your boat is lowered eight feet, as the OWW starts to return to sea level. The lock master at Ortona is a great guy, who tells you exactly what he wants you to do and makes sure that you have the perfect length of your line to adjust to the eight foot drop. A really dorky guy with a partner and another couple came toodling up to the lock as we were waiting for the green light. He was in one of those jungle boats like you ride in in Disneyland. He ignored the fact that we had been waiting, and when the green light came on, and the gates started to open, he puttered right into the lock ahead of us, then proceeded to grab the first line he came to, effectively blocking us from entering the lock. The Admiral sounded Slow Motion’s horn, and the lock master took the line away from Mr. Dork and directed him to keep moving – it looked like he wanted Mr. Dork to move right up to the exit gates. At any rate, he made sure there was plenty of room for Slow Motion, and we were grateful. Okay, we had the eight foot rush, the gates opened and we left the lock. The lock master told us that Mr. Dork was a regular, but still clueless after many years. He never called the lock master ahead of time. He always grabbed for the wrong line. And he had no interest in learning the proper protocol for locks. He was only interested in manatees. Lo and behold, as we left Ortona Lock, who was waiting for us, but Mr. Dork, who had turned his toy boat around and was heading BACK into the lock, to experience the rising of 8 feet of water. The lock master did not look happy. Hey, it’s free entertainment. The lock master said that this rude fellow also has a 60 foot houseboat that he likes to take through the lock – in the same discourteous manner he enters the lock in the toy boat. I expect that there’s not much going on in this area; however, Mr. Dork, couldn’t you find SOMETHING else to do with your guests (fishing?) and someone else to abuse besides this amiable lock master?

I will mention the last lock, the W. P. Franklin Lock at mile marker 121.4. The lock master had no personality. He was a cypher, a term I used as a prosecutor to describe a potential juror who revealed nothing about herself/himself during voir dire. You didn’t know if “still waters run deep” or if there was actually nothing there. I’m pretty sure with this lock master, there was nothing there. At least, the waters in his lock were not deep. Like the lock, he appeared very shallow. A friendly, knowledgeable lock master can make your day. A cypher cannot ruin your day, but why bother coming to work if you can’t find any joy in it? A lock master gets to ride around on a cool little ATV, he/she gets to play outside nearly all day, and he/she gets to meet people from all over the world. What’s not to like?

As we left the last lock, we headed into the Caloosahatchee River on our way to Ft. Myers and Legacy Harbour Marina, our home for the rest of January. It was a longer day than usual for us on the water. We had started at 7:30 a.m. and had intended to stay at Jack’s Marina on the OWW. As we cruised by it, Jack’s looked pretty rundown. I’m sure there are lovely people who manage the marina. We spoke with them on the phone. But we were really, really tired of our one night stands, as it were, going to a new marina every night. I know we’re transients, but sometimes even transients need a little sense of permanency. The Admiral and I decided to press on to Legacy Harbour, knowing that this would extend our cruising until 3:30 or 4 p.m. We arrived at Legacy Harbour, and Lana had chosen a slip on Dock B for us. The Admiral, who is getting very, very good at maneuvering Slow Motion in small, tricky spaces, somehow squeezed her into this tiny slip, in between two sizable boats that were already tied up. Once again, the Admiral received kudos for his masterful turns and twists. We set about tying the lines and attaching our power line to their power stand. We were soooo happy that our cruising day was over – we thought. It turns out that the power on that dock is at best 208 volts, and we need 220 volts. It also turns out that Legacy Harbour has power stands with 220 volts – but on other docks in the marina. The Admiral was shown Dock D (for “distant”) and we elected to save our generator, our air conditioner and all our electrical appliances, so we undid the power cord, untied all the lines, slowly backed out of the B dock slip and set our sites for D 19, another narrow slip, but not surrounded by big boats. I still can’t believe that the Admiral, who must have been seeing double at this time ( I know I was ready for bed.), backed into this slip without even coming near the free standing piling on the port side of the slip. Believe me, this is an extraordinary feat. So finally, about 5 p.m., we were “home”.

Today, January 15, I have walked about 3 miles, going back and forth from Slow Motion to the shore. The Admiral measured the distance and says it is one quarter mile each way. I walked more than ½ a mile to take a shower at 7:30 a.m. I walked more than a half mile to get a rental car and return to get my standing order for blood work. I walked more than a half mile to get the blood drawn and return with Americone Dream for the Admiral. I walked more than a half mile to take the trash to the trash cans. I walked more than a half mile to drive the Admiral to the Ft Myers Yacht Basin ships’ store to get hardware for our searchlight and return from a second trip to Publix to get Caramel Cone ice cream for the Admiral (and other groceries).  In the meantime, the Admiral spent the day crawling on top of the boat, trying to install the searchlight from above, using every muscle in his body, including some from his college soccer days that he didn’t realize he still had. But success is sweet – we have a bold, super bright searchlight atop Slow Motion, thanks to the Admiral’s sacrifice of his body.

Tomorrow we start the exploration of Ft. Myers.