After our rest on Monday, we set out for St. Marys, a five mile trip up river to this cute historic town on the border between Georgia and Florida. We had been invited to join this cruiser event by “Sea Tramp”, Lynn and Ann from Houston, Texas when we met them in Solomons, Maryland.

As we rounded the bend in the ICW that takes you north towards Brunswick we saw a field of masts in the distance. Unbelievable!!!

We cruised in and found a spot and dropped the hook. It was very crowded but the currents seemed to keep everything organized. We dinghied ashore and met up with old friends and made new ones.

The daily happy hours were wonderful but crowded with sometimes a 100 people or so.

The moon was approaching full and as a result the tides were greater than normal. Over a 7′ swing! At current switch the anchorage became a blender. Boats going every which way. Your boat may over ride its 100′ of chain and the next boat may not. As a result there were lots of close calls and a few bumps. We decided we didn’t need the excitement so we went back down the river a way and anchored away from some of the others. This became the thing to do and so it also became crowded but didn’t have the dancing boats like the original spot.

Thanksgiving was wonderful. It was really hard for us to be away from family for the first time during the holidays but to share a meal, a FEAST, with so many other people and the unbelievable hospitality of the St. Mary’s townspeople was too much.

They cooked 19 turkeys for us and ham, too. We brought side dishes and desserts. If anyone went away hungry it was there own fault. We retired to the boat and did what the rest of you probably did, rested!

On Saturday we went to a farmers market. No farmers but we did purchase some fresh seafood. Mary bought stone crab claws, a medium size flounder and a couple of pounds of shrimp. There were some whiting (a fish) there but I decided against buying any. I used to catch them in the surf on Padre Island when I lived in Texas and they are quite good to eat. Mary had culled out the heads and other junk in the shrimp and was going to throw it out. No way, that’s bait! I started to fish with our drop line (made by my dad when I was just a tadpole). I caught two nice sized whiting just before the current went slack. At slack they quit biting. Yum, fresh fish.

The weather had turned lousy so we decided to leave. With high winds counter to the fast currents, it was uncomfortable at best. We decided to head back to Fernandina Beach for a boat bath and some internet access.

It was decided we needed to clean all the salt off the boat so we signed in at the City Marina on the Ashley River. We docked at the “Megadock” just in front of a 59′ Hinckley. At maybe an even million we were in good company. Mary set the fenders and manned the bow as I swung the boat into our space. I gently let the stern swing slowly towards the dock allowing the outboard hoist to swing within 6″ of the Hinckley’s bow rail. We stuck our landing and cut the engine. The deckhands complimented me on a job well done and the Hinckley owner breathed a sigh of relief. We saw some other boats we had seen earlier and after a brief reunion we toured the facilities. This place is HUGE!

This boat, “Kismet”, a 220′ Lurrsen, was there for a little get together to be held on Saturday night. I checked but I must have misplaced my invite. I checked on the internet (just google “yacht kismet”) and found that it is priced at a mere $139 million and can be chartered for $700,000 a week. Be nice to me and maybe we’ll get it for let’s say, a few seconds!

We spent one day in Charleston sightseeing but mostly sitting in a bar watching Big 10 football. Got to see most of a Badger game but would have missed our bus back had we stayed till the end.

The next morning we went on the hook right across from where we had been docked. The Charleston yacht Club starts its regattas at the bridge and they race through the anchored boats. Very exciting.

Look closely, there he is again! The little turquoise boat.

After conferring with two other boats who were going offshore to Fernandina Beach, we decided to leave Sunday morning. We set sail and off we went. Here we are near the start of our 26 hour journey. This was pretty much the scene till dark when the winds died.

We had been getting quite a dolphin show all day. We wondered what do they do at night. As Mary pulled one of her watches, several dolphins rolled in the wake and then did a belly flop just to make sure she was awake. The trip was uneventful but interesting. We entered the St. Mary’s River channel around 9:00 am and were safely at anchor by 11. We rested the rest of that day.  We were in Florida at last!!!

After deliberations, we decided to move on. Wrightsville Beach looked fun but we need to move on. It’s getting late and I’d hate to get stuck somewhere along the line and miss the holidays.

Earlier, most of the other boats had left so we were on our own. There were several tricky inlets to pass and it would have been nice to have others with us. We made it through several all right. Lockwood Folly Inlet was one of these. We really didn’t even have time to think about it as there were maybe a hundred small fishing boats in the channel trying to catch “Spots” (sorry, no clue). I tried not to run any over, I didn’t but got close.

Our next skinny water was to be Shalotte Inlet. We were going to anchor there but we arrived at low tide. We couldn’t find a way through. We ran aground but were able to back off. We nosed around but no luck. We backtracked about a half mile and decided to anchor just outside of the ICW channel. There was a fair current so we hoped we would stay out of the channel and were doing fine until a tug and barge came through and sucked the stern out into the channel. I decided to drop a stern anchor. Glad I did as shrimpers rode the high tide out that evening and could have easily hit us. We had a somewhat restful sleep and got up and departed on the rising tide. This time there were no troubles.

Since we hadn’t really gotten all that much rest we stopped early at the resort in Barefoot Landing, sort of a suburb of North Myrtle Beach.

Left again on the rising tide and motored along until just before sunset. This stretch is fairly deep so no worries today. The decision was made not to push to Georgetown, so we anchored behind Butler Island just north of Georgetown. As is my routine, I sit on the bow rail for awhile to make sure the hook is set. There was a little sign maybe a half mile or so away. I got the binoculars out to see what it said. Hmmm …. “Warning! Electric Cable Crossing”. I checked the chart and sure enough we were right on the cable. Very carefully we raised the anchor and when we were certain there was nothing there, we found another spot to anchor.

Weather was on its way so we were up early. Earlier (at 4:00 am!) we were up to view the stars and the comet. It was quite the sight!

Dawn was beautiful and this dead tree near our anchorage was beautifully silhouetted against the sky. As we motored off a bald eagle popped its head out to watch us leave.

It was a day of contrasts as we headed towards Charleston. Many bald eagles monitored our progress from above and dolphins from below. A beautiful rainbow across the western sky promised rain and we weren’t disappointed. So we were in a driving rain storm. Luckily it didn’t last too long but the winds started to pick up. As the gusts built the depths diminished. The stress of running the ICW began to build again. We came close to running aground several more times but last minute course corrections saved us. Soon it became a challenge to find a place to drop the hook as the wind speed increased. We ducked into Awendaw Creek, a waterway splitting the salt marshes. As we rounded the corner to our anticipated anchorage, who would we see? Our Canadian friend who had rammed us earlier in our travels. He peeked out, saw us and headed below.

We were pretty tired so we took a little nap. We woke to the shore rapidly sliding past. The anchor hadn’t held a we were rapidly heading past the Canadian boat. We scrambled above and repositioned ourselves. I dropped our primary as well as the secondary Bruce. It held but it was not a restful night as the gusts hit 45 mph.

The run to Charleston wasn’t too bad except the part where we past our Canadian friend. He didn’t give me a whole lot of room so the pass was made with inches to spare.

We left Beaufort with a great deal of anxiety. We were heading for a stretch of the ICW where inlets from the ocean had shoaled many of the areas. Browns Inlet had been causing all sorts of problems. Two temporary red nuns had been placed directly in line with the green can 61A. We had been told to keep 50′ off the reds and then make a 90 degree turn to pass the green by 75′. Very unnatural but it worked. Unfortunately several other boats ahead of us just went straight through and ran aground, temporarily. We proceeded on to Hammock Bay, a dredged anchorage used by the military at Camp LeJuene. Very peaceful.

I know … another anchorage shot at sunset.

At dawn, as usual, we departed for a day of coordinated bridge openings. Three bridge openings all on the hour with some on extended closures. We made the first two but had an hour and a half wait at the Wrightsville swing bridge. I can say now, from a great deal of experience that it is not easy keeping a sailboat in one spot with a two knot current and 20 mph wind. We waited, dodging about 20 boats all waiting for the bridge. Off course the power boats all moved to the head of the line and left us sailboats to fend for ourselves.

After our wait, we made it through and went into Wrightsville Beach Harbor. Anchoring was difficult and on the third try we stuck it. The point of the anchor, on try one, actually punctured the end of a beer can. Not cool!

Our friends, Bill and Patty Coxe joined us the next day to bring us our mail and packages. It is so good to see familiar faces. They bought us lunch (thank you) and we did a little sight seeing but spent most of the time on the boat. We met Bill and Patty at the 2004 O’day rOnDAYvous in New York City.

Being bound and determined to make up some lost time, we left Coinjock at daybreak on November 4th. The air was fridgid as the area had been under a frost advisory the night before. We left along with another cruiser we had met in Solomons and had anchored with ssince. As we departed the dock and headed off into the fog we joined about a half dozen mega yachts and trawlers. They don’t have a lot of patience for slow “blowboats”. The fog soon lifted to a very pretty clear fall day. We headed across Albermarle Sound for the dreaded Alligator River mouth where all the shoaling and moved markers were. One sailboat was going the charted way and seemed to have no problem. Our fellow cruiser having done this stretch many times was going to go straight also. We parted ways as I like to err on the side of caution. I warned him of the moved markers and as the bottom came up to meet his keel, he decided to join us. All went well and we proceeded on our way.

After a long tedious stretch down the Alligator River/Pungo River Canal we anchored in a small creek as the sun was setting.

Up early again and off to challenge, this time, Pamlico Sound. We got to sail a bit but it seems as soon as you start to enjoy yourself the wind or your heading changes. The sail were furled and we headed past Oriental for Adams Creek. Our anchorage would be Cedar Creek just past the mouth of Adams Creek. Kind of unsettling to line up the channel by sighting on the mast of a sunken sailboat but there it was. The hook was dropped in 6′ along with seventeen other boats.

Uncertainty was the operative word for the next day. We had no phone signal, the weather was turning bad (again) and we had not been able to make a connection to pick up our mail and packages in New Bern. Bill Coxe, a fellow O’day 40 owner, had a family emergency and was now in New Jersey. We finally decided to head out and we were the last boat to leave. Beaufort would be our next stop as it was “only” 12 or so miles away and would be an “easy” trip. WRONG!

As the anchor was being raised and I was washing the mud off, the chain jammed in the windlass. Off course this happens just as the anchor loses its grip of the bottom. WE are slowly drifting backwards as I wrestle with the anchor. Mary lets me know that the bottom is coming up fast to meet us so I hoist all the remaining chain and anchor onto the deck, mud and all, in a big pile. Off we go.

Adams Creek turns into the Adams Canal and we mushed on as the winds began to build. We hit the Newport River (wide open with lots of fetch) as things got fun. A dredge (not a good sign) was working almost on top of the marker I needed to make my turn. I guessed right and we were still in the channel. The approach to Beaufort is a potpurri of markers going every which way. We strained to see the familiar yellow ICW markers to guide our way. As we approached the channel around Radio Island the winds were hitting their peak for the day. The channel looks ominous; narrow, sand banks, some rocks thrown in for good measure, but it was deep and we were heading for home. As it seems to always happen, the approach to our slip was against the current and wind. I needed to make a very sharp turn to port and as it was apparent I wouldn’t make, I was forced to back up where we instantly lost leeway and started to blow (drift) into the weeds. A quick application of “back and fill” and a burst of power sent us into the slip. Whew, are we having fun yet?

Beaufort is really a nice place and after I spent a day and a half fixing the chain jam and replacing the wiring for the shorted out bow light, we got to see some of Beaufort. The Maritime Museum is a must see as is the Old Burying Ground where through the assistance of a self guided tour you can witness the history of this place.

Graves from the early 1700’s, the Revolutionary War, the war of 1812, the Civil War as well as the graves of notable citizens and seafarers are still seen. We were particularly touched by the epitaph on Captain John Hills marker that said:
“The form that fills this silent grave
Once tossed on ocean’s rolling wave,
But in a port securely fast,
He’s dropped his anchor here at last.”

This is the marker of a girl buried in a barrel of rum. The story goes that an English family came to Beaufort in the 1700’s with their youg daughter. As she grew older she wanted to see her homeland. Her father promised that he would return the girl safely to Beaufort after the voyage. She died on the way home and her father, wanting to keep his promise, refused to bury her at sea. Instead he bought a barrel of rum from the Captain and placed her body in it and brought it home to Beaufort for burial. We’re not sure what the ritual of all the items on the grave means but it wasn’t too long ago that it was Halloween.

The “Queen Anne’s Revenge”, Blackbeard’s flagship has reportedly been found right outside of the channel leading to Beaufort from the Atlantic. They have found some treasures and hopefully will be able to resurrect more of the ship and its booty.

Overall a place worth coming back to.

The military presence at Norfolk is impressive. Kind of makes me sleep easier. Near our anchorage at Old Point Comfort was the old Fort Monroe. The Navy has an experimental craft area there and we saw a familiar sight, the stealthy looking cigarette style boats we saw in Milwaukee earlier in the year. Not sure what their purpose is but they sure look cool. The trucks that pull them on their trailers are also pretty impressive. They also had some of the most healthy sounding RIB’s I’ve seen. Center cnsoles and inboards that sounded very powerful.

We traveled across the river and towards ICW mile zero. We passed many Naval vessels of all types.

The facilities that maintain these vessels were equally impressive. We stopped for fuel just after Hospital Point (Mile 0) where we saw another familiar sight, New Moon II, a mega yacht that had been in Milwaukee all summer.

The ICW is very busy this time of year and we joined many other boats heading south. The Dismal Swamp Canal had just been closed the day before so everyone was going down the Virginia Cut. Bridges in this area don’t open on demand so we had to wait, sometimes a few minutes and sometimes an hour.

Here we’re circling at one of our hour waits. By the time we went through we had collected seven sailboats, three sport fishers and one tug with barge. When the bridge opened we all charged through. As we slowly made our way towards our next bridge and lock at Great Bridge we could see a small turquoise sailboat slowly making his way ahead of us. As we rounded the next bend we saw him as well as about thirty other baots waiting for the lock. As slowly as this boat was going, he was passed by one sailboat and all the power boats. Turns out he was waiting to lock through but failed to grasp the concept of “waiting in line”. He was a French Canadian and didn’t speak English so it was difficult to understand his intentions. I motioned for him to move up in line as I didn’t want to move in front of him. He did so but still lagged way behind the others. We circled and drifted along with the others but apparently I got too close to “butting” in line. He put his boat in reverse while I drifted almost motionless in neutral. I wasn’t sure what he wanted but figured he was just getting closer to ask me something. Well he rammed our boat. He hit us on the starboard stern quarter. Luckily it was protected by one of the large ball fenders we bought for the Erie Canal. His wind vane and rail caught my new fish cleaning table and was able to fend him off before he took out the outboard hoist and wind generator. He said something about “he’d been here since noon (it was now 2:00) and he was tiried of waiting” and moved away with a shrug of the shoulders. Several other boats witnessed all this and could not believe what they had just seen. It took awhile for the adrenalin to where off. Road rage on the ICW!

We finally locked through at 3:00 (that’s my buddy in the turquoise boat)
and raced through the Great Bridge opening as well. By now we were behind the tug which was not cool. He churned up the water so bad that we sucked up mud and decomposed tree bits for the next three hours. The plus side is that the Centerville Pike Bridge stayed open for him (the 4:00 opening was the last till 7:00) and we bunched up behind him and scooted through. It was now getting dark and dark on the ICW is DARK! We tried to drop the hook north of the Pungo Ferry bridge but ran aground in the mud so we pulled back and went on the south side. I backed the boat between two others till the keel settled in the mud. I dropped the anchored but never set it. We didn’t move all night.

The next morning at dawn the ground fog was rolling across the water. Through the fog I could see a steady stream of boats heading south. We needed to get going. Tropical Storm Noel was coming and we needed a safe place to be. Coinjock was a half day away but slips were limited. We called ahead but there was no room. We were first on the waiting list and an hour later we got the call.

We tied up there at 1:00 and here we still sit. We’ll leave in the morning (Sunday) and try to make it though the Alligator / Pungo Canal. The winds got strong but never over 45 mph. We got very little rain. It was aprudent stop to make as the waters to the south can be treacherous.

We met lots of other cruisers here and have had a great time. We’ve met folks who have just started, like us, and others that have done numerous Atlantic crossings and have been out for years. As a whole, a very helpful and supportive group of people. Hope to see them along the wat.