THROUGH THE GATE OF HELL

Isle of Hope, GA 31º58.756N | 81º03.345W

Boats anchored at sunrise in Isle of Hope, GA.

Any day that begins with leaving Isle of Hope and heading for Hell Gate seems inauspicious, to say the least. And then we passed this:

Well, dang. Then I look at the GPS and even it is telling me TURN BACK!

Note the yellow arrow, which usually points the direction we should be heading,
in this case telling us to GO BACK, GO BACK!!!

Hell Gate is known for shoaling and shallow waters, so we left early to pass through at favorable tide having finally learned to use the tides to our advantage.

Also having learned some tricks to narrow, shallow passages, we made it through Hell Gate slowly grounding-free. Onward through placid marshlands with time for reflection -- and blogging.

We dropped anchor before low tide in the early afternoon, in the Wahoo River, alone but for hundreds of waterbirds calling around us. A day that started with eery omens passed ever so gently as years of tension dripped out the ends of our fingers and washed away in a quiet current.

The sun set on the marshy scene and the moon rose over our private spot, the lone evening guests of the fish and fowl.

Wahoo River, GA 31º36.092N | 81º013.008W

Reflective waters along Georgia's marshlands.

Skidaway Bridge near Isle of Hope.

NEW STATE OF MIND

Beaufort, SC 32º25.837N | 80º40.583W

The entrance to Field's Cut on the ICW in Georgia.

I left Beaufort feeling sad and mopey (is that one of the dwarves?), but the second we pulled out onto the ICW, my spirits lifted. Note to self: Feeling blue? Get moving!

We slipped quietly out of South Carolina, across the Georgia state line.

By the time my shift at the helm came, I was feeling all new and happy, even the GPS was smiling at me.

I would soon learn it was not smiling. It was laughing at me.

I might have had a new state of mind, but the pattern is an old one. My shift started as we entered Field's Cut where "reported water at mean low tide was three to four feet."

When were we entering? Mean low tide. I mean. I might also add, it seemed much more "Field" than "Cut."

Ah well, forge ahead at mean low speed. I navigated it without anything worse than clenched teeth.

As we approached the town called Thunderbolt, this time with Chip at the helm, I radioed Causton Bluff Bridge to request an opening.

"Be advised, only half of the bridge will be opening."

Causton Bluff Bridge near Thunderbolt where half the near bridge section didn't open.

Bad photo, good illustration of a claustrophobic opening.

All day on the VHF, I had been taunted by the oft-repeated, "Isle of Hope, Isle of Hope." We could have made it farther, but how can you pass Isle of Hope, especially when it's billed as one of the prettiest spots on the ICW? It is.

We were walking the 1 1/2 miles to the local pub/restaurant when one of the marina dockhands stopped to give us a ride.

I opened the back door of his truck, and out tumbled three large, matching books about the size of the Reader's Digest Condensed Version -- right onto the road.

"Wow, what are these," I asked as I read the spine, "Millennial Harbinger."

"I'm a seminary student. I'm writing a paper on the Church of Christ and their stance on slavery."

Okay, I was not expecting that.

Isle of Hope, GA 31º58.756N | 81º03.345W

Now THAT'S a shoal.

Moon over beautiful Isle of Hope.