Several days after our last boat trip, Newt ask if we would like to take a ride through some of the canals on the west side of the bay, and "The Bridge to Nowhere" as it is called. As a child I used to sail in that area, first with my sister in our Sneakbox, and then with my husband to be, often getting almost eaten alive by the green.head flies and sometimes needing our paddle to maneuver when the wind would die.
We first passed what used to be Bear Island, or rather one of the 2 Bear Islands, which is now reduced to some piling, fewer every year, where cormorants roost to dry their wings.
They all took off at the sound of the motor, except these two brave souls who stood their ground.
Making a side trip to obtain gas at the local marina, I snapped a shot of the fenders on the dock.
Nearing shore we passed theses old boathouses which appeared to be no long in use.
Entering the canal we saw these two "gentlemen" basking on the land with their crab buckets and lines in the water, ready for "a day's work".
The grass in the marshes showed the effect of the changing tides.
As the bridge to nowhere appeared in the distance.
Since a part of the bridge was burned down years ago, perhaps by an angry father denying a good parking spot to his son or daughter, passage was easy.
We continued through the canal,
And back out to the bay, as we were passed by a small boat in a big hurry.
Making the last turn, we encountered him pulling up a fish, probably only his first.
Nearing the Island we saw a lot of cormorants, perhaps the ones we chased on the way out.
And a greater heron flew overhead to another hunting spot, I imagined.
It was a perfect day as the evening clouds began to move in and the sun sparkled on the water in front of the causeway bridge.