Today’s tide timing challenge was not nearly as clear cut as in previous days. The problem was this – about 20 miles south of our anchorage was another fixed bridge (nominally 65′ of clearance, but we’ve yet to see anything close to that so far on this trip), followed immediately by a 2 mile stretch of shoaling which our friends reported yesterday as having only 7′ in spots when they crossed it at mid-tide. Ordinarily we would try to get to the fixed bridge at low tide to give us the maximum amount of clearance for our mast. But if we did that today and got under the bridge, we’d immediately find ourselves in a problematic shoaling area at low tide – the worst possible time! The distance was so short between the bridge and the shoal, and the channel so narrow, we couldn’t just go under the bridge and then wait for high tide. So we made the decision to arrive at the bridge about 90 minutes after low tide, believing that we might still get under the bridge before the water got too high and that we’d have about a foot of water above low tide at the shoaled in area. This worked out well and we didn’t have any problems. It helped a lot to be able to follow two other sailboats into the shallow area and follow their path through the thin water.

Emerging from the long stretch of narrow canals with sea grass, exposed sand bars covered in shellfish, and occasional communities of houses with long fishing piers into the big city expanse of Charleston Harbor was like entering another world. Suddenly the noise level rose precipitously. Big container ships crossed the harbor with deceptive speed, ferries whooshed by covered with chattering passengers, and the hum of traffic was clearly audible from the eye-catching cable-stayed bridge that bisects the harbor and joins the halves of Charleston city. The aircraft carrier Yorktown sat like a guardian Valkyrie at the foot of the bridge along with the destroyer USS Laffey and an as yet unidentified Navy sub accompanied them (all three of these in our featured picture for this post).

We tied up to the fuel dock at Charleston Harbor Marina and topped off our diesel tank, about 65 gallons, and then negotiated the wind and currents through this huge marina (docks A-K, although K is currently out of commission from hurricane damage.) It was at first unclear which side of B dock we were assigned to, and had to do a quick about face when we realized we were past the correct dock face. Not a big deal under normal circumstances, but a little more of a trick with the prevailing current and winds. Luckily, the current was in our favor this time and actually helped in maneuvering into a tight slip. We got in safely and without incident, although Tom needed our bow thruster to keep us straight. Meanwhile the live-aboard lady on the sailboat to our starboard watched nervously as we approached and we tied up. When we greeted her and said we hoped we hadn’t made her worry she explained that just yesterday a catamaran had blown into them and they became entangled. They are leaving for the Abacos tonight and felt very nervous seeing another boat come in so soon before their departure, given the events of yesterday.

The marina staff recommended the Fish House restaurant, right on the associated resort’s grounds, and after a blessedly long hot shower, we dressed and walked there. Our table had a great view of the Yorktown, the submarine and destroyer, and the bridge. They had a 4 course tasting menu at a great value, and we had too much good food. As Tom ate yet another honey-butter hush-puppy, he remarked, “This is the taste of high blood sugar.” Worth it.

Now night herons are croaking their barky cries and landing on all the darkened boats. Our laundry is in the dryers up at the marina building, and we know from previous trips to change from washer to dryer, that we will cause much birdie consternation as we walk the dimly lit docks.