Hi, it’s me. Karl. When I last left you, we were ready to leave Stuart, Florida, but someone crashed into the train bridge. Very rude. I have been patient, brave, and extremely handsome while waiting to continue this story, so here we go.
By the time this part begins, we were more than ready to leave Stuart. The loudest, scariest town ever. Not even the sniffs were worth the noise. And that is saying something, because there were some really wonderful funky smells there. Seaside towns are usually the best because they have the most amazing scents. Mom says they are vermin, but I think of them as small furry friends who live exciting lives. I watched them very carefully, just in case they needed a German Shepherd supervisor.
In Stuart we lived at a marina while my people got the boat ready to leave for the islands. The marina office, coffee shop, and fancy restaurants were all by the parking lot. That is also where the fun stuff was. When I went for my walks, with my chest out and ears on full radar, we would take the trash to the big dumpster, which was where all the action happened. A whole group of small friends had built a village there. Some lived in the trees and some owned the dumpster village itself. Mom and Dad would not let me explore. I just wanted to meet them nose to nose, very politely. They said no. It was the only good thing about nighttime in that terribly noisy town. I have never smelled so many of those guys in one place. Mom said there were dozens. I believe her. My nose does not lie.
And then the day arrived. We could not leave until the afternoon because Dad said the tides had to be just right. Since I am a good first mate and excellent at waiting when snacks might be involved, I agreed. Around 2 pm we pulled out of our spot at the marina and headed into the bay. I stood watch, of course. Dad got on the radio and called the bridge to ask permission to cross. They were still repairing damage from the crash, and there were divers under the water working on the bridge. We had to float around and wait while they cleared the divers so we could pass. I performed several very serious scans of the horizon during this time.
There were two bridges very close to the marina that we had to cross to get out of the bay. One was for cars and one was for trains. Mom was scared because our mast sticks up really high and the train bridge does not open like the car bridge. We had to go under it. Being a good first mate, I sat tall and calm and tried to look confident for her, even though I was also watching the bridge very closely. Our mast, which is the pole that sticks up in the middle of the boat and holds the sails, is 63 feet tall. The bridge was supposed to be 64 feet at low tide. That is what humans call close. Mom says she does not trust their measurement, and I trust Mom.
Once the divers were clear they opened the car bridge and we started moving through. We had to pass both bridges at the same time because they were so close together. Right as we started, a small fishing boat came straight at us from the other side. Straight at us. Mom ran up to the front of the boat waving her arms and yelling. I did not bark, but I was ready. We are a big 44 foot sailboat. We had the right of way and we do not turn easily. As Dad says, she drives like a pig. I do not know why pigs are blamed for this.
The guy on the fishing boat was looking behind him, not at us. Mom was yelling for him to move. He was coming fast and we were stuck in the bridge channel. He was the only one who could move. Finally he turned around, saw us, and swerved out of the way. When he slowed down and got closer, he yelled an apology and said he was making sure it was clear and that they knew we were coming. He was worried about the divers. I accepted his apology on behalf of the crew.
We made it under the train bridge, but I think Mom and Dad held their breath the whole time. I kept mine steady because someone had to be calm. Then we went out into a bigger bay using the Old Iron Sail. That is what salty dogs like me call the engine on a sailboat. We had to pass through several bays and more bridges. Some bridges were very high and not scary at all. Others were low and made everyone nervous. I stayed close to my people, just in case they needed extra confidence.
Everything took much longer than it should have. The tide started going out and the water got more shallow. Along the coast the sand shifts all the time, so some areas are not marked and you have to guess where the sandbars are. Dad did not guess very well. We got stuck a few times, but he is better at sailing than guessing. I supervised. Eventually we made it out of the St Lucie inlet and into the open ocean at about 6 pm.
I put my ears into the wind, planted my paws, and gave my best German Shepherd smile.
Let’s go to the BAHAMAS.