To Lake Sylvia

To Lake Sylvia, Fort Lauderdale, Florida
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On went the engine at eight thirty on a beautiful morning. I was just heading to the fuel jetty, minding my own business and admiring Joy looking after Jonathan when the next thing I was being boarded by two very attractive US Coast Guard men - that bit was fine, but it was a bit early in the day to be looking down the rather large, black gun on the front of their very speedy vessel. A security check they cheerfully said. Well whatever next. They took notes from our boat ownership and passports, chatted merrily about the forthcoming Fort Lauderdale Services Festival this weekend and off they went.
Now it may just be
a) the fact of being boarded
b) the close proximity to two men packing weapons or
c) the mere fact I have a uniform ‘thing’, like those who see a doctor and their blood pressure immediately shoots up that I felt the real need for a short, sharp sherbet in a tot glass.
Put me right wrong it did, but a slug of my whipped cream vodka and a long breather, while the Captain did his thing on the fuel dock at the Riviera Marina that I began to feel a bit more like myself.

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Off we went on our way by ten past nine. I didn’t feel the need to say Arrr at this old lady with a distinctive hole.
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Nor did I feel sympathy at ten thirty, for the lady bridge master, who got her rear right span jammed. Oh dear it could be a very long day.
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The scenery changed to a very wide channel, deep enough not to have to be staring at the depth gauge all the time, this did make a nice break
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Some very parsey hoses
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Bear was amused on his first duty to go through a ‘One Carefully Owned’ bridge
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I had a very pretty one, but had to peg it, to reach it on its opening, as the last chap made me idle for half an hour when he cut out his quarter to opening. See Pepe out of sorts yet again. Just as it had just started to get betted aboard Beez.
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Going along nicely now. Thank goodness.
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Not a nice roof, way too shiny in the sunshine
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Berger Houses ??? In America – it’s not the Caribbean after all
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An airship – whatever next
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A stunning house, with an incredible infinity pool AND traffic cones on the left hand side
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We pass Hillsboro Bridge, a big inlet from the sea
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Finally we make it to Fort LauderdaleIt says so on the side of the bridge, you know
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My final challenge of the day was to negotiate round a policeman in the middle of the river, giving a ticket to a speeding day cruiser, whilst listening to a man on his very loud, bagpipes (just visible in front of his garage doors). Unreal. So pleased to hand over to Bear for his last stint – and a little ‘sailing on the spot’ as he attempted to find the entrance to Lake Sylvia.
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As we got the anchor down at 18:45 a policeman passed by, he must have seen my weary face as I weakly gave him a wave. Thank heavens skipper let me win at backgammon and agreed to a pick about supper. We had come thirty nine point six miles, had been through twenty lifting bridges – some at twenty to or past, some half past and o’clock, some at quarter past and to. Bear’s final duty was to phone in to Homeland Security and a chirpy lady gave him the log in reference D6256. Just as we fell into bed shattered a party boat arrived, glad they played good music though. We watched an episode of Sons of Anarchy, I put my eye covers on Beds and I and it was lights out on quite a day.