The ICW -- The Bridge that Took a Foot Away

Gary up the mast, trusting us with the lines holding him there.

In preparation for the trip down the ICW and this one dreaded bridge we had to try to get under that was only 64 feet for our 65 foot mast, the next morning Elliott and I hoisted Gary up the mast to do some proactive work.  He removed the masthead light and the wind anemometer and left the VHF antenna since that was fairly flexible just in case it touched as we were passing under.  Most of the boats left that morning, leaving only an old boat very reminiscent of the ones you'd find deserted in the Florida Keys and a smaller boat called Fuzzy Duck.

We had a timed window to make certain bridges and the lock, so we left later than everyone else.   Other sailors deferred to us and let us go ahead, either so that we could keep our speed or that they just wanted to see if we would fit under the bridges. The lock was an interesting experience and kind of underwhelming compared to the one I was used to in France, but a new friend said that underwhelming was good sometimes. 

I've decided to call Elliott our cruise director because he'd arranged for us to say hello to a friend he had made on a forum called Kids for Sail; he's arranging other visits as we make our way south.  We saw this new friend just as we passed the lock; she was on land as she and her family are getting their new boat ready to sail.  We wave and said hello.  It's very cool because we are slowly becoming part of a new community and it feels good.

We went through every kind of bridge you could think of: swing, bascule, lift, and fixed.  Some you have to radio ahead to get the bridge tenders to open for you, some have openings on the hour or half hour, and the fixed, well , they're a whole different story.  We scraped the bottoms of quite a few of them with our VHF; Gary had rigged a coat-hanger to protrude forward of the mast so that if we did hit, that would hit first and he could quickly put the boat in reverse to avoid damaging the mast.

The beauty of the ICW or "the ditch" as it is called, is unreal and a manmade water trail through so much natural beauty; marshes, lowlands, wide open expanses of water, tight canals.  A gorgeous trip that had me at the rails oohing and aahing as we motored along.  We hit once, which Gary backed off quickly, so that makes us seasoned veterans, I guess.

I was so stressed, though, with every bridge we passed, knowing that we were getting closer to the scary bridge that had caused so many people trouble over the years.  My neck and shoulders were knotted up with worry.    

Pungo Ferry Bridge Anchorage

After we made the Pungo Ferry Bridge, we anchored just the other side of it and Gary's brain started plotting a way to defeat the Wilkerson Bridge the day after next, the infamous bridge with a height of 64 feet when we needed 65 feet; just twelve more inches, please?  Unfortunately, this bridge was not affected by the tides, only wind if it is blowing in the right direction can help (maybe).  I just wanted to get over getting under this bridge so that I could breathe and relax again.

The challenge felt overwhelming, but Gary went to sleep with his engineering brain coming up with ideas using the cosine function of trigonometry (see, someone DOES use it in real life!) to figure out a way to get the boat to heel just enough to get us under that hell bridge.  He figured we needed a 7-degree heel to drop it 6 inches but wanted a 10-degree heel to drop it 12.

Okay, my eyes glazed over, but we went to work the next morning after a night on the Alligator River (which is a glorious spot that is very mystical and serene).  Everything with any weight from the starboard side of the boat had to be moved to the port side.

That included canned goods, bags of rice or other grains, pots and pans, dishes, my thermos cooker, home-canned goods, tools, toiletries, anything that could make us list further.  While I did that, Gary and Elliott worked on Gary's scheme.  We got quite a few comments by other boaters as they passed by.

They brought the dinghy around and hoisted it up on the port side of the boat; Gary's plan was to fill it with water as we neared the bridge.  He also put in an old prop that he found in the anchor locker.  He hoisted the spare anchor, pulled in the regular anchor chain to midships to add weight, and then he announced that Elliott and I would also become the ballast to help bring her over even more.  What?

Elliott was commanded to be the one hiking out from the dinghy, which, as you recall, was strapped high to the side of the boat.  My job would be to be hoisted via bosun's chair to the boom, which would then be moved out over the port side to pull us over even more.  You know, there's a good time to be hefty and this one was it!

As we neared the bridge, we all got ready; I was strapped into the bosun's chair and tied to the boom; Elliott was already out on the dinghy, which had been mostly filled with canal water. Gary swung me out near him and I actually thought it was pretty cool, but then remembered that we had work to do, so I did my best dead weight.  It really didn't look good because even with my weight out there, we were only up to 9!!!!  Yikes, we needed 10!!!!

We approached the bridge very slowly; inching up, motoring through the coffee-colored water, holding our breaths (after I said a prayer to Neptune and the Black Madonna of Sailing Ships and any other gods and goddesses within hearing).   The forward coat-hanger thingy never touched, but the antenna screeched along again during what seemed the longest 10 seconds of travel EVER!  BUT WE MADE IT!!! 

I let out a hoot that could have been heard in three counties; we were all so relieved.  Gary got on channel 16 and announced, "To those of you who had been placing bets, Nalani made it through the Wilkerson Bridge!"   I swear the stress fell off my shoulders like a coat shrugged off in warm weather.  What a thrill to have made a success of it; I was so proud of Gary for thinking of a way to do it and for Elliott being willing to go out on a limb with me.  We all grew today as a family and as crew.