Going My Way

by John Dean

1997

The Intra-Coastal Waterway (ICW) was authorized by an act of Congress in 1919. I've always assumed the idea was to provide a submarine-free passage in case of another war. In any event there is still some commercial traffic, mostly by barge, and the channels are maintained by the Corps of Engineers. There are no fees for using it, but I for one would be willing to pay quite a bit for the privilege. Anyone who enjoys messing around in boats would love it. You can even go under sail a good deal of the way. Occasionally running aground is a given, but the bottom is almost everywhere quite sort and I've never heard of any real damage from it. Part of the adventure.

From Norfolk there are two routes south to Albemarle Sound in North Carolina. We chose the Great Dismal, a narrow cut bordered by trees with farmland beyond on either hand. It was surveyed by George Washington and at one time was the main means of transportation between Norfolk and Elizabeth City, N.C. There are two locks to transit and the distance is far enough to require tying up along the bank for one night. This became the occasion for our first get together with other cruisers, about six other boats' worth, for sundowners. In Elizabeth City we found free dockage for about a dozen boats and a welcoming delegation that entertains yachtees passing through during the fall and spring migrations with a wine and cheese party. Southern hospitality was quite real on the ICW. From Norfolk all the way to Florida even the power boaters were courteous, slowing down and signaling to pass. Of course in Florida there are many New York motor boaters who take delight in trying to sink sailboats with their wakes. But in between it was a delight.  

In Beaufort , South Carolina, I asked the manager of the municipal marina how I might get some groceries and supplies. He said, "See that blue Buick there? Key's in it. Just go out there and hang a right, then right again over the drawbridge and about a mile down the highway you'll see a PigglyWiggly on the right? Just try to have the care back in an hour in case someone else wants it." How could I not enjoy Beaufort in spite of three days of frigid, driving rain? Indeed, if you ever decide to make the trip down the ICW, by all

means leave earlier than I did. Go September 15th t the latest. Then take your time and enjoy the people and all the beautiful coastal scenery, winding tidal streams and sometimes woods. Across open bays and then sometimes just inside barrier islands sailing along at hull speed with no waves at all. In the Carolinas and Georgia you will get fresh, never frozen shrimp from the many inshore shrimpers. You also pass hundreds of good ol'boys fishing from the banks and docks. We never saw a single fish reeled in but then maybe that's not the point.

In Florida I sailed across the state in the Okeechobee Waterway with my thirteen-year old grandson for crew. A high point in my life and I'm sure for him, too. We managed to have a lot of good-boy things--draw bridges, locks, porpoises manatees, and even a twelve-foot alligator sunning on the mud bank. At the eastern end of the waterway you enter the Gulf of Mexico at Fort Myers, a few hours south along the coast brings you to Naples where we were entertained at the home of former Douglastonian Rib Smith. And there my grandson David departed by air for home and another former Douglastonian, Eddie Matthews flew into join me on Doyen Ill. South of Marco Island the 3vest coast of Florida is virtually unpopulated. One can sail up an inlet to Everglades City, a delightful off-beat spot once expected to be a new capital of the state. A recent newspaper clipping on the bulletin board of the famous Rod and Gun Club recounts a certain fall in expectations. it seems a frustrated sheriff who could never catch the bad guys with the goods called in the Feds for help. The economy of the village of 500 hundred souls was supposed to be based on fishing, but when the drug bust wound up, virtually the entire adult population, 200 including a retired state supreme court justice, was packed off in paddy wagons while the rest of the people stood shaking their fists. There are no more high-powered boats. Just some fishing boats and a couple of sight seeing boats operated by the park rangers.

At Key Largo we were joined by another former Douglastonian, Roger Smith, the one who shared my boyhood dreams more than 60 years ago. I had extended the adventure to include a more secret part of the dream. Why not ? On to the Bahamas. The prevailing wisdom was to leave at midnight in order to arrive in the morning when the sun is high enough to make it easy to see the coral reefs you are running into. We were just about at the limit of loran navigation and were not sure we could trust the fixes. We allowed about three knots for the Gulf Stream, checked our dead reckoning memories and Io and behold Cat Cay right on the bow a little after sunrise. By the time we had cleared customs it was too late to be able to reach the next land to the east, Chubb Cay. But the weather was perfect and the forecast was excellent too, so we decided to anchor on the bank-no land anywhere for 35 miles, except for the bottom ten feet down in water as clear as air. A swim. Some good food. A beautiful sunset. Old friends chinning in the cockpit and watching the stars come out.