With hatches wide open, and screens installed,  it was clear we had finally escaped the grip of the coldest winter in years.   What a sweet blessing it was to enjoy watching majestic trees with Spanish moss hanging from their branches, palm trees leaning over the lazy flowing waterway, and all sorts of wild life.   The water rolled smoothly beneath us and now, the only challenge we had was time;  the time it would take to travel from northern Florida on the Atlantic side, to northern Florida on the gulf.

We spent a couple of days visiting my parents who live right in our path in palm coast, then continued on down and spent some time with captain Keith and his wife.

“…we had received an amazing donation; two large barges full of small prefab homes for Haitian families who have been living in tarp shacks since the earthquake.   We also had tons of food and many other supplies.   As we were traveling past Cuba, we had difficulty with our engines and drifted with in 3 miles of the coast; Cuban waters.

Immediately, the Cuban authorities boarded us and towed us to land.  Sitting there at gunpoint, we heard them argue among themselves as we watched every last item in the barges piled up in trucks disappear.

We were accused of some kind of illegal international trading and then we were put in prison for weeks.    After 40 days, we were finally released. Having lost everything, we were simply happy to be free, so we could start over again.”

This was one of the many stories captain Keith and his wife shared with us. They have sailed humanitarian aid to Haiti for over 40 years.

Here we were, amazed and still stunned by some of the things we had experienced since we embarked on this mission, then we came across these seasoned veterans who had experienced “storms” and suffered losses far greater then what we could ever imagine. Yet they smiled as if it was all just another day in the park, and treated us as if we were the ones worthy of honor…

One of the more profound things we have come to realize in this journey is how truly small and insignificant we are.  This is something we all have known, and even spoken in conversation, but out here, it isn’t a knowing, or something you talk about; it is an ever present reality, and it is beautiful, for from this place of insignificance, there is no one to disappoint… no one to impress… there is simply an awareness that we are in the palm of a hand far greater then the furthest ends of the universe.   From that place we can do anything, and take credit for nothing…

On we sailed southward.   I had done much research on a little known water passage across the state of Florida called the Okeechobee  waterway.  This passage would save us 8 to 10 days of traveling around the entire lower coast of Florida.   Again, as it had been with other passage ways, the information on this crossing was speckled with question marks.   Water depths ranging from 5ft to 12ft, unkept sandbar areas, locks that may be closed for repairers, etc… In all, the most challenging obstacle looming deep at the center of the Okeechobee waterway was the Mayaka bridge.    Mayaka is an old and rare railroad lift bridge in the middle of the waterway just before entering the Okeechobee lake.   Fully lifted, it has a height of 50(+/-) feet.   50ft we understood, but what was this (+/-) measurement? Decisions, decisions…

With a 50ft tall mast, we decided to enter the Okeechobee waterway…

To be continued