Charleston at last – for Thanksgiving


Isle of Palms, to Charleston SC

I awoke to fisherman activity at the fuel dock. Turns out the fuel dock doubles as a bait shop. All of the fishermen down here wear camouflage hunting outfits and every boat comes equipped with 2 sport fisherman (camouflaged) and a black or golden lab. 50% of the labs are missing a limb…ie 3 legged. This scene qualifies as ‘red neck’ in my book. I’m not sure the purpose of the full camouflage – I guess they think they are hiding from the fish. Ya know, “shhhhh don’t tell the fish we’re here…”

The winds and tidal currents are considerable today. We inched toward our final 65′ fixed bridge. I spotted a measuring stick on this one — and it said 67 feet. We “should” be good – but you never know if these sticks are calibrated – so we proceeded cautiously just to be sure. Pat maneuvered ever so slooooly…..and after a few agonizing minutes….I gave the ‘all clear’.
Unfortunately, the timing of making the fixed bridge at low tide, meant we had to wait nearly an hour for the final swing bridge approximately a mile away to open. Hurry up…and wait. It’s all good.

We snaked our way thru the inter-coastal with swamp grasses, shoals and surprisingly shallow water in the channel – out to the Charleston Harbor. Dolphins appear again.

 

We crossed the harbor, and headed up the Ashley River to the City Marina docks. We repeatedly hailed the City Marina — but no response. It’s Thanksgiving after all – and everyone is home with family eating turkey. I suggested that we just grab any old space that we see along the dock – and tie up. The tidal currents are strong here, and I was somewhat in a rush to get Earl to yet another emergency vet (he has stopped eating and drinking now). We tied up on the “mega dock” where all of the super-sized yachts are moored. It’s Charleston SC. We’re here. We made it.

I carefully placed Earl in a cushioned box….and ran off the dock with him – to catch the first available cab. No time to get familiar with Charleston. Earl is very sick. It’s Thanksgiving – and there is only one vet clinic open. The lovely cab driver drove me to the emergency vet – and waited for Earl and I. Again, the vet found nothing wrong with Earl. She gave him more fluids, and antibiotics, and special food. I had to feed him via syringe, until he starts eating on his own. I will gladly nurse my buddy back to health.

We set out on foot to find thanksgiving dinner. It is 6PM, and nothing is open in downtown Charleston. Except for 1 pizza joint that caters to college students. Pizza it is. And Thanksgiving dinner never tasted better.

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