CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX: THE OCEAN ALTERNATIVE DAWNS ON US

CHAPTER SEVENTY SIX: THE OCEAN ALTERNATIVE DAWNS ON US

Oh, we sailed the ocean blue today and it was exhilarating. What a natural high! The only other boats we saw were shrimpers plying their trade with their crane-like antennae sticking out from each side dropping green nets into the deep. I hope they got a lot of shrimp, so maybe it won’t be so noisy around the hull of Slow Motion tonight. Last night at Jekyll Island, there was a constant ratatat-tat  sound, which was actually the sound of hungry shrimp munching on whatever has grown on or stuck to Slow Motion’s belly. Maybe we won’t need that bottom pressure washing after all. Not!

This morning before dawn we prepared for our journey on the Atlantic. We were headed to Thunderbolt, Georgia – taking the outside route. In this way we were going to avoid the hellish Little Mud River, which has captured many an unsuspecting cruiser at low tide and the muddy Hell Gate, equally treacherous at low tide for those who haven’t read up on their ICW low points. And let’s hear an Amen! Amen! to not encountering either Scylla or Charybdis today. Check your Greek mythology – not a perfect analogy, but close enough for comparison with other very dangerous threats to boaters. So part of the natural high was knowing that we were not going to be eaten alive or handed our lunch by the present day Scylla and Charybdis of the Georgia portion of the ICW.

Instead we cruised on smooth waters, with a “mild chop” at most – less than 1 foot high waves – for the entire morning. Only as we approached Wassaw Sound, our entry point out of the ocean back into the ICW did the wind pick up and buffet us about. But by that time, around 1 p.m., we were still celebrating the “ocean alternative” to mud and hell, and a “moderate chop” was not going to spoil our day. Yes, there was the issue of the missing buoys, which confounded us for a few minutes. As I awoke from a wonderful snooze – it’s not all work during the cruise – the Admiral tasked me to find the green buoy that was supposed to appear. I grabbed my binoculars and scanned the horizon and lo and behold I found it at 10 o’clock, right where it was supposed to be. This was after I had successfully located a red buoy at 1 o’clock on the starboard side. We knew we were in business after that. And I discovered that I have another useful skill for navigation: I can spot buoys with my binocs, which are low to the water and miles away. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me. I haven’t been very good at reading the clearance gauges on the questionable bridges (anything around 20 feet in height) in our path, not until we’re right upon the bridges, and the Admiral has already made out the digits. But apparently, my eyes and my binocs work great when it comes to spotting buoys, and for that both the Admiral and I are very grateful. Now if only I could learn to tie a bowline in a few seconds, or a clove hitch. So much still to master. But that’s the fun of this adventure without deadlines and with just a little nudge from the Admiral from time to time – okay, a big nudge.

We arrived at the Thunderbolt Marina a little after two in the afternoon, not nearly as drained as the day before, when we had zigged and zagged on the ICW and were “waked” a few times by, you know, those fatheads. I think that’s what the Admiral is saying as they roar past us. We docked rather effortlessly with the help of Josh, who is new to the marina part of Thunderbolt after working in the boatyard since he was seven. He looks about 16 now, but is probably in his twenties. We thought we had a problem with the starboard engine battery, and maybe we do, but since we had called ahead for a knowledgeable repair person to come to our boat to check it out upon docking, the dang battery appeared to be working fine. The starboard engine started without hesitation. This is the doctor’s office syndrome transferred to the marina. Let’s hope that the battery is aware that the repair person is still “on call” when we leave at 7 a.m. tomorrow. This morning at 6:05 a.m., the battery was acting up, and the Admiral wasn’t sure we would have the use of the starboard engine today, but finally it worked and we were off to enjoy dawn on St. Simon’s Sound, heading toward the Atlantic.

It’s a treat to have a few afternoon hours to do things, so I wasted only an hour playing around on the computer before I took the dirty clothes to the washer and took myself to the shower. The Admiral took a walk along the dock and was quite sociable with our neighbors in the sailboat, who spend their winters in the Bahamas and hail from Oriental, North Carolina. We’ve run into a few couples in the past few days who have spent every winter for the past three or four years in the Bahamas. It appears that there are no scissors and no razors – at least for the men – in the Bahamas.

Before I forget, let me try to evoke the hour-long dawn we experienced leaving Jekyll Harbor Marina at 6:05 a.m. Everything started out pale pink, the sky, the water reflection of the sky, the air, other boats. Everywhere, it was subtly pink. Then a golden orb rose on the horizon and smashed through the pink haze. Suddenly there was gold streaming across the water to Slow Motion’s starboard side. The water picked up the color in its full brightness, because it was dead calm. Then one of our favorite playmates dived out of the glassy water surface and dived right back in. The lone porpoise did this several times to our delight and awe. How can one animal be so graceful and have such impeccable timing? This was a dawn to remember. I kept snapping photos, but none does justice to what we actually saw. Words fall short too. Rest assured, however, this was a spectacular way to start the day. At times like this, I wish everyone I love were here to share the moments with us.

How do you end a day that started out with unparalleled beauty all around? We found a way. It doesn’t sound poetic, but Tubby’s Tank House did it for us. This Thunderbolt restaurant up the road from the marina is a piece of the Keys that has been transplanted here. There is a definite Georgia flavor to it, however, not just in the heavy regional accents of the wait people and the customers. With every entrée hush puppies are served – homemade hush puppies of varying sizes but uniform deliciousness. And my side dish for the steamed shrimp (seasoned perfectly) was a cinnamon basted baked sweet potato – a vegetarian’s dream meal. It was heavenly. The shrimp were plump and plentiful, and the Admiral thought there was a touch of sherry in the cole slaw. The Admiral had THE BEST fried oysters he has ever eaten, and one of them was the largest ever captured and fried. All in all, this was more than we had ever hoped for, particularly after our ordinary cheeseburger dinner last night at Seajay’s the restaurant on site at the Jekyll Harbor Marina. Before you start wondering what happened to the Admiral’s culinary skills, the night before that we finished the amazing fajitas the Admiral had prepared, which carried us through three “saboroso” suppers on board. We still enjoy the Admiral’s fare most of the time. These two nights out in a row are the exception. And the dinner tonight, for both of us, was exceptional. Thank you, Tubby.

It’s almost Mother’s Day. And I think of my mother a lot, how much she would enjoy this water adventure with me. And I believe she is here with me. She and my sister, Jean, are in the front cabin in the bunks. They were both much more than mothers, but as mothers they both excelled. My sister, Sue, is in their league, as is my sister in law, Lois, and my friend, Barbara. I know my BBs Marlea, Mary Jane, Carol and Pat are fantastic mothers too. Sondra is a great mother who unfortunately does not get the recognition she deserves. And those of us who are not biological mothers, like Carol, Louisa and I, are great aunts and “step” mothers (whatever that means) – and we are/were great daughters too. After all, it really gives you a leg up as a great mother if you have a great daughter or a great son to help you along the way to your pinnacle of motherdom. And when you don’t have that leg up, it’s all the more amazing that you continue to be wise and motherly, even when your child falls short in the empathy department. Yes, I’m babbling. But I am so grateful that I “discovered” the greatness in my mother when I was in my late thirties, so that I could get much closer to her than I had ever been as a child. Thank you, Lila Kramer, for helping me open up to my mother and for helping my mother share some hitherto hidden thoughts with me.  Before I start blubbering, Happy Mother’s Day to all of us.