The Ditch

On Sunday, Mrs. theskinnyonbenny and I took Velvet Elvis up to Bay St Louis. I've probably written about it before, but to get out of the lake and into the great wide world, we have to go through the intercoastal canal. This starts with a pass through the city, down the canal that separates New Orleans from New Orleans East.

It starts with this sequence of asking one bridge operator to open as soon as the previous bridge has closed. Each and every draw bridge is stressful. Are you coming up too fast? Or is it, "Oh shit, it's open and cars are stopped but I'm still way the hell out here?" The Ted Hickey bridge opens from the center, and both pieces stay leaned toward the center of the canal so that you never feel 100% certain that you even have the width to get through.

After that is Danzinger, which requires a team of specialized engineers to drive in and handle the technical aspects of the bridge, even though it manned by a bridge operator 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Then, there's this little train bridge right at the water line that might open right up for you. or it might just pen you in that little stretch of canal between itself and Danzinger for two hours. Totally up to the whims of the railroad.

Here's a video we did while passing through the bridges last year.

After the bridges, we hang a left and go through a pretty wide waterway with good depth. It should be nice to be out on the water, but it's industrial and quite ugly. After an hour or so, there's a tiny flood gate with weird currents to slide through, and then the canal continues pretty straight for several hours.

From the pretty part of the canal. Don't let the wide appearance fool you.

This portion is quite pretty, but also has a much narrower part with good depth. I like to stick to the center, but I have to pay attention to do it. One time (not this weekend), I was standing at the helm while Mrs. theskinnyonbenny sat in the cockpit just in front of me. She started playing the Wordle, and I started thinking hard, trying to get the answer before her. My attention was sufficiently diverted for one minute, and we felt a soft thud, and we were aground.

More excusable but also scarier is sliding to the side to pass a giant barge being pushed by a tug. The tug captains who go up and down the Intercoastal every day are totally comfortable passing a few feet from each other, but I am not. There was one trip -- again not this weekend -- where I slid over, got into some mud, and had the tug captain radio me to helpfully share that the deep water was over there in the center by him.

Sunday's trip was blissfully uneventful, but it was hot as the devil's jacuzzi. When there was any breeze at all, it was slow and coming from behind so that it was entirely negated by our own motion. The sun was brutal, and my choice of a long-sleeved black t-shit was a monumental mistake. I'm typing this on Monday night, and I still haven't cooled off.

In Bay St. Louis, every place is open-air, and a nice, cold air conditioned bar is hard to find. Then, my dad picked us up, and his air conditioning gradually got less and less powerful. Excuse me while I go get something cold to drink.

We'll be out sailing for a few weeks. I'll drop the real time map on the home page at some point this week.