We were up at 6 and off the dock by 7:45, armed with coffee, donuts and the New York Times from the nearby Seven Eleven. Our strategy was to be at the free city dock at LaBelle after other boats staying there overnight left for the day, but before most other boats would be stopping for the night. Our plan worked -- when we arrived at the dock at a bit after noon, only two sailboats were there, and we had plenty of room to maneuver our way in.

 

When we stayed here on our way west, we got in so late that we didn't really have time to see the town.  This time, we had all afternoon to explore. 

 

Along the way, we passed a sign directing us to the LaBelle Heritage Museum.  The museum has very limited hours--it is only open Thursday, Friday and Saturday afternoons. We can't resist a museum, and we were there at a time when it was open, so we stopped by.  The only other visitors we saw were just leaving as we arrived. 

 

A friendly elderly volunteer gave us a personal tour of this eclectic museum in an old house.  We don't think the house itself had particular significance, except that it was old and available for the historical society's use. The collection included anything anyone in town was willing to donate to fill the museum space.  Boondoggle done with palm fronds, old medical instruments, a stamp collection, the engine from a steamboat that is sinking in an oxbow outside of town, furniture, clothing, and photographs all have their place, although the organizing priciples are not immediately apparent.  There are many wooden models of buildings done by a man who is clearly a pillar of the town.  A business card on display with the models proclaims him and his wife "Professional volunteers for over 50 years."

 

We saw picutures of the town flooded, as people strolled waist deep past the storefronts on its main street.  Evidently flooding of this sort was common before the Army Corps of Engineers built the locks and straightened the river.

 

As we rode back to the boat, by way of the grocery store, we noticed quite a few oranges in the gutter, fallen from overfilled citrus trucks,  This is just the sort of opportunity Dick can't pass up.  He carefully inspected all oranges that we passed, rejected the ones that showed signs of being bruised by their fall or run over afterwards, and tucked four oranges that passed his inspection into his bike bag.  He might have picked up more, but we needed to save room for the stuff we had to buy at the grocery store and couldn't just find lying at the curb.

 

This was a short and easy day.  Our first lock only opened on the even hours to accommodate repairs, and because of our overcautious timing of our arrival to the lock, we were left circling for 45 minutes. Other than that, we just had a relaxing float through the ditch, with a little excitement provided by a beautiful sighting of a bald eagle high in a treetop lit by the sun, and an alligator within about a dozen yards of the boat.

 

When we radioed our arrival to Roland Martin Marina, the dockmaster informed us that the best band in South Florida was playing that night, and he asked if we wanted a spot right in front of the Tiki Hut.  Fortunately, we had past experience near the Tiki Hut on a weeknight, and we figured a Saturday night could only be more lively.  So we got a spot up the dock from the band.  The music was outstanding, and just the right volume from a distance.  We were ready for bed before the band was ready to stop playing, and with our heater on and the boat closed up they were softly muffled enough for us to fall asleep.  We had the best of all live rock music worlds.

 

We had a very busy day in Clewiston, America's Sweetest City, last time we visited. This visit, we just hung out around the marina and relaxed.  If you are interested in information about Clewiston or its history gathered during our last visit, just click the link at the bottom of this page and scroll down to Clewiston.