One would think a fear of cannons in the 21st century should not be an issue. Then again, I have been called a freak of nature by more than one person in my day. So my reputation is once more justified. Alison Gieschen
Cannons have been a recurring theme for Dan and I. We are heavily into listening to the soundtrack of Hamilton. The play retells the amazing life of our much unrecognized founding father. It describes his contributions and sacrifices. In listening to the musical narrative of the Revolutionary War, Dan and I have had fun researching more facts and enhancing our knowledge about that historical time period. Much to our delight, a TV series Turn was recently aired that tells the story of the spies associated with the Revolutionary War. It brought in key players such as Washington, Lafayette, Benedict Arnold, and Hamilton, mixing facts in with the historical drama.
As we made our way back to Florida and learned about the incredible history of St. Augustine, it inspired us to take more historical tours of the old cities dotted along our trip north up the coast. The next city along our route, that we have visited in the past but wanted to return to, was Savannah. Our dear friends from the horse world, Nicole and Sarah d’Auriole, live in the quaint city. On the trip to first look at our boat, we had stopped there for 2 overnights. When we walked down to the waterfront and looked at the city dock with her pirate ship, tall-masted schooners, and shops dating back to the 1800’s, we immediately put sailing there, once we had our boat, a must. However, wanting to sail to Savannah and getting there are two entirely separate issues. There is a reason there is only one dock with about 5 spaces for boats on the city dock.
Our boat has a 6 ½ ft. draft and most of the channels leading up the ICW near Savannah have places where the depth is 5 feet. We had to sail outside and actually go north of Savannah to follow deeper rivers leading to her elusive port. It was a beautiful motor sail a few miles offshore, not much wind we motored past Hilton Head and turned back south on the ICW arriving at the mouth of the Cooper River just before dusk. We motored into the deep and still river and found a beautiful little anchorage in a wide bend of the river. It was peaceful and quiet other than the song of the insects and birds nesting in the tall grass along the river banks. The sound of shooshing dolphins, as they blew their breath into the morning air, woke us. One lone pelican floated by as if he was on a rafting trip. He didn’t move a muscle, just turned his head and peered at us with curiosity as he floated past, another strange spectacle on his lazy float to nowhere in particular.
By nine o’clock we had the anchor up and were both excited to get to the city dock of Savannah. Dan had spent 2 days trying to figure out how to get there and where we could stay without breaking the bank. Deep waters make anchoring difficult so the city dock, although a tad pricey, was our best option due to its proximity to the historic district. When I called to verify availability, the marina attendant assured us there would be room for us.
As the city began to come into view, I put out the lines for docking, affixed the fenders and posted myself on the bow to watch our scenic entry. Just before entering the city, I noticed a green hill on our port side that looked strangely familiar. The hill had the telltale signs that a fort lay hidden beneath her surface. I scanned the horizon for some signs I was correct. Just then, a boom reverberated through the air, matching the sound of my body hitting the deck… again. A cannon was aimed directly at our boat and had just fired.
“Oh dear God!” I screamed back at Dan. “Why the heck do we keep getting fired at!” I had déjà vu from being anchored off the fort in St. Augustine and the surprise I felt when their cannons were being shot at close range. Of course, both had been blanks, but the sound, the smoke, and the shock made them seem real enough.
I quickly regrouped and allowed Dan to make his usual jokes at my expense. Of course, the cannon had not fazed him in the least. He was also not standing on deck when it went off. Shaking off the near imaginary sinking, we followed the watery trail into the historical town, picturing the gigantic wooden vessels that had first ventured up this same river. We arrived at the dock with the expectation someone would be there to help guide us and show us where to go. Turns out, there is a public parking lot that shares the one dock employee. He was busy with the street-side parking booth and couldn’t make it down to help us. Being that there was only one 165ft. long schooner and one motorboat at the dock, our job wasn’t too difficult. The water was 40 ft. deep at the edge of the dock and the current flowed by like a freight train. There were no bathrooms, showers, or amenities at the dock so we now understood the lack of traffic. We were still ecstatic to be in this city, with our own boat, fulfilling our dream of sailing to Savannah. It wasn’t easy getting there, but we had made it happen.
Our wonderful hosts with their own beautiful home in the center of town dazzled us with their culinary masterpieces and kind hospitality. Their beautifully renovated home, true to the style of the magnificent homes standing magnificently along the streets of Savannah, also hosts an adorable Air B&B, Garden on the Waldburg. Check it out if you need to stay in Savannah, the location for seeing the city is perfect! Our hosts showed us around the city, took us on a tour of the Ghost Coast Distillery, and we all sat on the deck of our boat one evening and watched the Friday night fireworks which occur on the first Friday of each month. We enjoyed our time learning about the incredible part yet another old town along our coast played in our country’s history.
During our weekend there, we visited the fort that fired upon us. We walked through the city admiring the tall trees draped with Spanish Moss, the myriads of parks placed along the street grids with statues and placards, and my favorite part… discovering George Washington’s cannons. Cannons captured in the battle of Yorktown that he brought as a gift to Savannah at the end of the war. Staring in wonder, I placed my hand on the cold, dark steel of the cannon. I closed my eyes and pictured the man himself standing beside that cannon. Maybe Hamilton had stood beside him, or Lafayette or one of the other major players in the Revolutionary War. While I had been daunted by the sound of being fired upon in the two cities, I was equally inspired touching a piece of history, once touched by the very men that won our independence. It was awe-inspiring and magical that this one little monument, holding 2 cannons, reached into my core and evoked such feelings for the people I had been learning about. Savannah didn’t play much of a part in the Revolution, so it was a great surprise to have a little piece of the history we have been following show up there.
There is something for everyone in Savannah, great little shops, hundreds of fine dining spots, history, parks, and a cultural presence that transports one back to a much earlier time in our history. And if you are a fan of ghost stories, this is another city where the presence of the past is still intruding on the people of today. Their ghost tours are legendary. Whether you sail, drive or take a plane, it is a city that should be on everyone’s bucket list. And don’t worry, you probably won’t get fired upon by any cannons. That just happens to me! Off to our next stop, Charleston, SC. Boat repairs, history to learn and reuniting with our boat buddies on Rovin and Adventure!