Here we go again, a second attempt to leave the Beau-zone (Beaufort, North Carolina). We say our goodbyes to Audrey and Ward and Val (from Hawaii) each of us expressing our hopes of a reunion and the desire to stay in touch. Today we finally do leave around 2:30 p.m. However, because of the time of year (early sunset), and because we need a place to fill up on fuel and empty the holding tank, we get as far as Morehead City Yacht Basin, a mere two hours away. By the time all is done however, it's approaching 6 p.m.; it's dark, and we're both pooped. It's very early to bed tonight with the hopes of also an early start. We consider this a 'prep' day.
November 22 to November 24
Travelling south down the ICW, we are enjoying interesting scenary that changes constantly - stately mansions, shrimp boats, marshes everywhere, an array of birds. We never tire of the view. Occasionally, I pop down below to prepare for our evening after we have anchored. Today, Tuesday, I made my Monkey's lovely vegetarian stuffing in the morning. After lunch, I worked on a new recipe I found in a sailing magazine. At 5:00 we opened a bottle of wine and as I write, Jim is preparing to barbeque fish for our dinner. Before leaving Beaufort, we visited our favourite seafood store and purchased a fairly large quantity for this trip, including salmon, grouper, trout, jumping mullet and triggerfish. We didn't notice that the gentleman wrapped each order individually bagged, but not marked....so, alternate nights we have fish, but not knowing our fish well enough yet (with the exception of salmon), we don't know what we're eating until it's served....actually, even then, we have our doubts. All that matters is that each one is good to us.
November 26
Yesterday was tough; what a kind word to describe hair-raising, nail-biting, anxiety-ridden....it was shitty. The weather continued to offer us rain and cold winds, leaving us feeling chilled to the bone. We were anticipating arriving in Barefoot Landing Marina, at Myrtle Beach, S.C. at dusk; however, we had forgotten to take into account that the Sunset Beach Bridge at mile 338 opens on the hour only and this cost us a good 40 minutes with consequences of being forced to navigate in the dark at a deathly slow pace through a dangerous part of the ICW, known by barge captains and officially labelled on charts as “The Rockpile”. The Rockpile was created by Army engineers by blasting a trough just wide enough for a barge to get through, leaving straight-sided rock walls on each side. During high tide, the passage appears wider than it is because the low rocky sides beyond the straight walls are covered with water and become invisible. Locals recommend navigating the Rockpile at low tide so as to better see, and avoid, the rocks in the non-navigable sides. Locals also recommend calling ahead on the VHF to advise opposite direction bound vessels of intentions to proceed...there is not enough room for a sailboat and a barge to pass in opposite directions! There was nowhere to pull over for the night; the only choice was to continue. It was an eery experience, and we were both frightened badly. I stood outside of the cockpit on port side, holding on to a railing with one hand, shining a powerful spotlight over the water and shoreline with the other. Meanwhile, with poor visibility from the cockpit, Jim was using radar and computer navigation software to see the way ahead. The ICW is marked approximately every quarter of a mile or with random markers. When travelling in a southerly direction, there are green markers to port and red on starboard. Vessels are to travel between these two markers to ensure safety.
There were strange sounds of critters everywhere. I thought I saw an aligator swim across our bow to the other shore, but my spotlight identified it as a young racoon. At one point, I was startled to see unexpected lights on the shore, but then realized they were the eyes of animals caught in my light. The visibility was dreadful. At one point, my light displayed a shoreline ahead, instead of to my port side. I cried out to Jim...'it's a deadend'! Jim steered to starboard and we just missed running into the shore. The waterway narrowed and rocky cliffs were on both sides; suddenly, we saw huge rocks rising from the dark waters and Jim scrambled to take us further starboard to avoid a collision. By the time we arrived at Barefoot Landing Marina in North Myrtle Beach, N.C. (about 7:30), we were utterly exhausted. Jim took care of hooking us up and handling the lines while I prepared supper. Welcome to paradise!
November 28
We're at Five Fathom Creek outside the town of McClellanville, S.C. Last night we anchored in what looks like a field of wheat. I was eager to start our supper preparations as it was a night of old fashioned, but yummy pork chops in mushroom soup gravy, oozing in onions, garlic and tiny red-skinned potatoes, with a side dish of mashed turnip and hot biscuits - comfort food after many hours of chilly weather. I did my usual routine of preparing a sink of soapy water for a typical clean-as-you-go dinner (very necessary in a kitchen the size of a powder room back home). Everything was ready, and my saliva was working overtime in anticipation, when suddenly, there was an offensive word escaping from our master cabin ensuite. Jim discovered we had no water. Our lovely dinner wasn't quite the enjoyable experience we had expected as the conversation turned to “no coffee in the morning.....can't brush our teeth" In the midst of this conversation, it was suddenly very quiet. The generator had died. The generator is what gives us our independence while at anchor because it makes 120 VAC....which gives us the means to operate the heater and a/c. It also charges up the batteries which are used for many purposes (lights, computers). Now, no water, no heat and no options but to wait until morning to see what could be done.
This situation was particularly frustrating for Jim because while I had spent a month back home waiting for the birth of munchkin # 4 (new grand-daughter, Jasmine), he had spent countless hours working on the watermaker and was thrilled and relieved, believing all the problems were finally solved. Like the generator, the watermaker also makes for independence by providing us with fresh water by removing impurities from the water on which we are floating, through filtration and removing salt through reverse osmosis (the best part is that it also eliminates the requirement of hauling jerry cans on the dinghy from a water supply on shore).
The next morning, the temperature in our cabin was 10 degrees celsius. While I lay warm under a mountain of blankets, Jim quietly went about repairs to the watermaker and generator, bringing me coffee in bed once these tasks were done. By about 10:30 the anchor was raised and we were off again; well, at least for about fifty feet. The tide was out and we hit bottom (thank heavens it wasn't me this time!) However, in Jim's defence, the depth indicator reflected that we were in 7 feet of water, so this shouldn't have happened as our requirements are 5' 2” only. The following hour was spent admiring the view as we waited for the tide to continue its journey back into these watery wheatfields.
December 2
We arrived in Charlston, South Carolina around mid-morning Sunday November 29. Jim contacted the municipal marina and a few others, but there was 'no room in the Inn'; therefore we set down anchor in Charlston Harbour, with the intent to take the dinghy to the marina to purchase supplies. Jim was in the process of demonstrating to me how the dinghy is taken off the davit and lowered into the water, when a woman, probably early thirties, with a little boy and a big German Shephard pulled up along side of our boat in her bright, yellow dinghy. I cheerfully called out “good morning”, followed by Jim's equally friendly, “nice day”. The conversation that followed however, was not so cheerful or friendly. This woman immediately became frightfully aggressive and loud, telling us to move our boat because this was her spot (as indicated by her floating anchor buoy) It was our belief that since we were the first to arrive and our anchor was already down, any other vessel would be obliged to keep clear; also, we were not attached to her buoy, but rather, the swift currents of the area brought our boat close to it. She insisted that we leave the area and anchor elsewhere so that she could anchor to her buoy. She would not allow us to engage in any conversation and when we attempted to communicate, she spoke over our voices, yelling loudly. Added to this was her dog's continuous barking and snarling. Jim called the Coast Guard and it was confirmed that she had no legal rights because the harbour waters are not owned; however, it was also explained that there were some folks who believed they had 'squatters rights'. The situation was far beyond our comfort level and we decided to pull up anchor and move to another location. As Dr. Phil would say, “would you rather be right or happy”. We were both quite shaken by the experience and decided to postpone our trip to town until the following morning, spending the afternoon, engaged in “pink and blue” activities required on the boat.
We knew we both needed a happy break – we had never screamed at each other before, but both of us recognized it as a result of frayed nerves and minds and bodies craving sleep.(and my chicken-shit attitude when it comes to speed in a dinghy....and a 6 knot current ....and a 20 knot wind blowing us out towards the Atlantic) This shopping trip could not be postponed because the weather forcast was for severe storms, hazardous weather and possible tornadoes.
We stopped for lunch at a quaint little restaurant called Salty Mikes, located at the end of the marina, each having our fill of amazingly fresh seafood; this was followed by a taxi to the local Harris Teeters (equivalent to an upscale Loblaws in Ottawa) When we returned to the marina, we were loaded down with about 20 bags of supplies and as we were transferring them to the dinghy, I heard a lovely soft spoken feminine voice behind me say “thank you for moving yesterday”. Slow to make the connection, I was baffled by Jim's gruff reply “well I'm not very happy about it” I glanced in her direction and smiled, continuing with the job at hand. It was only after we left the dock that I commented “well she's a lot more pleasant than her bully-bitch companion” (the name we had given to our snarly friend in the yellow dinghy from yesterday). Jim said “that was bully-bitch” I was stunned! Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde! How could anyone change their behaviour that dramatically!
December 15
We left Charleston Thursday, December 3 continuing down the ICW, arriving on Amelia Island (Fernandina Beach) Wednesday, December 9. It had been a very tiring trip; we're weary of the ICW. The weather continues to be miserable, so we treated ourselves to a marina for the night, but the night turned into three. This is a lovely little tourist town. The shops are delightfully decorated and tempting to explore. We found an Irish pub with a huge dining room and we are the only customers. We spend too much money in this town, but what a lovely treat and such fun. We would come back to Fernandina Beach.
We are anchored approximately 53 miles from Daytona Beach where Jim was able to contact a marina to reserve space for us until the end of January; we had intentions of a long day of travel to reach Daytona tonight, but awoke to a thick blanket of fog. There is no choice but to sit it out; however, the afternoon was heavenly with gentle southerly breezes, blue skies and temperatures in the mid-seventies. The layers of clothing peeled off as the day progressed.
December 16
We didn't reach Daytona last night (of course) and no marinas or marked anchorages were to be found. It turned into another one of those nights where we motored in circles trying to figure out if there was enough depth to anchor; it's such unknown territory unless you're a local because the depth is influenced by the currents and tides from the ocean. The evidence was found this morning! We awoke to a 'not quite level' bed. It's a strange experience to walk to the galley at an angle – a bit like having one too many drinks. During the night, the tide went out (our water level dropped) and now the stern of our boat is sitting on a ledge. The depth sounder indicated that the water at the front of the boat was 6.5'. This is another day to wait out the conditions. In another few hours when the water returns, if we are unsuccessful in dislodging ourselves, we will have to call Tow Boat US. Fun, fun, fun :(
No towing required today; when the tides came in, together with favourable wind and a set staysail, Jim was able to free us from this grounding to continue our motoring south. We arrived at Halifax Harbour Marina in Daytona Beach about 1:30 and looked forward to another break!
December 17
Unfortunately, no internet again at this marina, but we were able to spend some time at a cafe where we could catch up on some personal email and most importantly, make reservations to come home December 20 – in time for Christmas! Up early tomorrow to start preparing Montamarol for a month's storage, pack and figure out what to do with all this food! It's been 25 years since I last visited Daytona Beach and there are many fond memories attached to this small city. Jim agrees that we will do some exploring when we return in February.
As I re-read my diaries, I note all the traumas and stresses experienced. What is not noted is that every single day has also brought quiet moments of tranquility, stunning sunsets, feelings of being in tune with nature, oneself and with each other. It is a grand opportunity to connect as a couple as most of the time it's “just you and me babe”
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