Four days in Nowhere Slu

Ok folks, I’ve just paid ten bucks to get on line to let you know that I’m still alive.  My cell phone quit promptly out here.  To the annoyance of bridge operators who asked me for my “land line.”  I’m on a BOAT, what kind of land line should I be having?

I’m at Snug Harbor for the day and the night.  On Tuesday, well, let me go back to Monday. Did I mention that I just had to bolt out of Owl Harbor on Monday?  I was having a great talk with blog subscriber Ray, but had ambitions to get up the Georgiana slu, a long winding skinny motor.  So I left buddy boat R a bit behind, but he said he’d catch up.  And he did, many bridges later. Kudos on that hustle.

We had plans to stop at any number of marinas that were listed on the charts but they were all BOGUS.  Nasty creepy, falling apart, each one worse than the last.  So we kept going.  This part of the trip reminded me of cross country drives where there are no motels to be had, and no safe pull outs either.

Finally we saw our last opportunity in Courtland and it was SEEEEEEDY.  So I directed R to return to an empty private dock that I had seen a half mile back and we did an emergency docking.  It was dark, and we were tired and hoped we wouldn’t get yelled at.  I didn’t sleep a wink with anxiety and came out the next morning to R talking to a Mexican maintenance worker who was extremely gracious and said it was ok we were there, not to worry.

So as soon as the Steamboat Slu bridge was manned to open we left and anchored for three days in the protected anchorage area. Which was fine for me, but R was experimenting with his anchors the whole time.

On Tuesday morning I woke up with a sore throat and then slept-not-a-wink outside, accelerating the sickness. Oh my, was it pretty though.  Many stars, a few shooting ones, and a lovely breeze. I slept outside for all four days of anchoring and only had to use the mosquito net the last night.  After the first night Austin preferred to sleep on deck, but only in his specially prepared Prince Bed.  He also had comments for the late night wildlife activity and for R’s boat that swam all over the river doing God Knows What.

The log in the foreground we named Nessie and she was our tide indicator and what kept us from floating into the middle of the river.  Well, me anyway.  R’s boat has a mind of it’s own, as mentioned.  Austin got to lay in the shade in his dinghy (Dingo in a dingy) and has learned that when he gets a chance to be on land he’d better let it all out at once because he doesn’t have the luxury of peeing on everything.

Austin has been excellent the whole time.  A good little traveler.  So on the morning of our 2 year anniversary yesterday, 9/9/11, we set out on our own with the goal to have a week of solo adventure and meet up with R at Korth’s Pirate Cove on Thursday.

I toodled up Miner Slu and low (and I mean low) and behold, a swing bridge that is not manned, and you need to give 12 hours notice.  So I called them up on channel 9 and asked that it be opened at 8 am the next morning.  They said ok.  Then I anchored in Miner Slu,  all of which photos appear to have been eaten by my computer.  Boo.

By now I feel awful anyway, not sure if it’s really that hot or if I have a fever.  Coughing has become “productive” – don’t mean to gross anyone out – and I’m concerned about a development into a lung infection, pneumonia, or even shingles, all of which I’m prone to.  West Nile Virus also crossed my mind but I’ll have to research that more to know if that might be it.

Short story, I’m ready at 7:30 am the next day (this am) and I get a call that the Miner Slu swing bridge “can’t be opened.”  Maybe it was won’t, but he said can’t.

So now I’m at Snug Harbor trying to get well, drink stuff, stay cool.  It’s been in triple digits and with humidity from evening showers.  It’s blown my budget for the week to be here, but the ice is cold and the docks are sturdy enough.

Cross your fingers that I can kick this bug quickly or I may have to take a detour to some clinic with nasty antibiotics and such.  I hate antibiotics.

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