We continued to make our way south through SC from the Waccamaw River to Charleston for Thanksgiving.  We spent extra time in this our favorite city, since it wasn’t clear when we’ll be back through on a boat.  From Charleston, we made our way to Beaufort, traversing the low country bordering the ICW.  As the month ended, we were anchored in Bull Creek near Hilton Head, looking to move into Georgia on the ICW for the first time in our travels.

North of Charleston
Our stay at the Osprey Marina in the wilds of the Waccamaw River was originally planned to be 3 days to allow us to weather a storm that was passing through, but we extended our stay by one more day to enjoy the amenities of this friendly place.  It didn’t hurt that the slip fees dropped to $0.25 a foot for the fourth night either.  It was easy to settle in here, with the friendly staff, the free breakfasts, a welcome bag that included cheese and crackers, which we put to good use getting together with a couple from Rochester on the front porch the first night.  We worked on the computer, while relaxing in the rockers outside the office, overlooking the narrow entrance channel.  Taking a walk to explore beyond the grounds, we discovered a small local zoo, with a herd of buffalo among other exotic animals.  

We ended up leaving Osprey on a Saturday, which meant the local boaters were out in force.  We learned later that duck hunting season started the same day, which meant that the boats were filled with hunters and the boats were themselves decked out in various amounts of thatch to disguise them from the unsuspecting ducks.  Our destination that day was Georgetown, a small historic town at the top of Winyah Bay.  Georgetown is home to some shrimping fleets, so we lost no time in finding a local seafood processor to buy some fresh local shrimp for dinner.  Mmmmm!  Leaving at first light the next morning, we had a long day ahead of us to reach Isle of Palms Marina.  As we wound our way through the marsh on bays, rivers and cuts dug through the marsh, the currents alternately pushed us along and pulled us back, making it unpredictable how long it would take.  But overall, we had a good day, pulling onto the dock before 3pm.  We could have even made Charleston (since the Ben Sawyer bridge wasn’t on afternoon restrictions on a Sunday), but stuck with our plan to arrive Monday morning.

Leaving around 8:30am the next morning, the tide state was at dead low, but we were trying to arrive at the Maritime Center at slack current.  Traveling the ICW stretch before the Ben Sawyer bridge, our depth alarm kept sounding, reminding us of the low water here.  We were thanking ourselves that we were on Junior, not Orion, since the bigger boat would have been aground in the middle of the ICW, waiting for higher tide.  (We spoke to someone the next day with a 5 ½ ft draft like Orion that did exactly that.)  With only 2 ½ ft below us, the depths were merely an interesting sidelight, not the drama of past years. Whew!  We traveled up the Cooper River as a container ship passed us outbound and pulled onto the dock before noon.  The weather had finally warmed up and we looked forward to a beautiful Thanksgiving week in Charleston.

Charleston – One last(?) time

Charleston holds a special place for us and pulling into a slip at the Maritime Center feels a lot like home.  So, this was going to be a bittersweet stay.  With plans to trailer Orion Jr north, it seemed possible that we might never get back to this city on a boat.  While we could always visit by land, we both know that it would never be the same.   So, we drank it all in – taking walks through the charming streets, down to the Battery, along the river; sampling pralines on Market Street, lunch at Hyman’s, church at The Circular Church; watching the container and cruise ships move up and down the Cooper river;  and simply socializing with the dockhands and boaters at the marina.  We celebrated Thanksgiving together with the other boaters, complete with turkey, ham and all the trimmings.  The warm weather for much of the week seemed too good to be true, making it easy to linger in the cockpit, rather than being chased below by cold. 

As the week ended, we were given an unusual treat.  Our friend in the SC Maritime Organization was going to be crewing on the Spirit of SC, the tall ship that docks at the Maritime Center, on Saturday.  We agreed to meet him between trips to say hello and catch up.  To our surprise and delight, we were welcomed on board the ship for its sunset cruise.  We got to help raise the sails (a little more work than those on Orion Jr), and Dave even got to man the helm while we docked. It was great wind for sailing the harbor and the sunset was breathtaking.  A beautiful night.   Our thanks again to Troy for making it happen. 

Orion Jr ‘s shallow draft secured us one of the shallower docks in the marina (we saw 2.5 ft when we arrived at low tide).  Again, in our new mode of travel, we were no longer stressed out about this.  Our neighbor at this shallow location was another smaller boat, Les Miserables.  Wiley and Merry were on a year-long trip from Chicago and were tiring of the stress of traveling the waterway with its shallow depths and uncertain hazards.  The warnings from the guidebooks were taking their toll.  Since they were also a smaller boat, they had difficulty keeping up with most of the other boats on the waterway, so they were having difficulty hooking up with a buddy boat.  We asked them to join us for the trip south to Florida, and we would guide them through the shallow spots and other hazards.  They gladly accepted and we once again were traveling in company.  After waiting out some weather, we pulled off the dock late Tuesday morning, November 28th to make our way south with Les Miserables now our traveling companions, saying goodbye to this beautiful city and the friends we’ve made there for at least the near future.

South of Charleston
Although we attempted to time our travel through the ICW south of Charleston carefully to take advantage of favorable currents and bridge openings, we were dismayed to discover the 20+ knot winds on the nose as we pounded west into the waves generated by the wind over the westerly flowing current.  Orion Jr was seesawing through the waves, with the outboard frequently cavitating (popping out of the water) as we crested the larger waves.  Rather than subject ourselves to more of this torture, we called it a day early and anchored in the protected Tom Point Creek, which was amazingly comfortable after the strong winds and waves outside its mouth. 

The next day we made much better time, traveling all the way to Beaufort, SC.  With the weather moderating, the trip was much more pleasant.  The only hitch being our mistaking the schedule for Beaufort’s downtown Lady’s Island Bridge, which has a noon time restriction and opens only on the hour all day.  Since we had timed our arrival for 1:30pm, we had a half hour to kill. But we had not too far to go beyond the bridge, so this wasn’t too big a deal.  We took the courtesy car into Beaufort for a tour of the town before sunset.  The next morning dawned clear and cold.  We had second thoughts about pulling out into this frigid weather.  After waiting a couple of hours, we headed out for a much more pleasant run to what would be our last stop in SC – Bull Creek near Hilton Head.

It had been 5 years since our last stay at Bull Creek, just before our first ever ocean run to Florida.  This visit was eventful for a different reason. Soon after anchoring, Wiley and Merry were preparing to come visit us when they discovered their boat was laying at an odd angle.  It didn’t take long  before we both knew what the problem was.  They had wrapped their rode around the keel – something Orion had done twice to us.  The solution was simple enough – use the dinghy to push the bow around.  Rather than put his motor on the dinghy, Wiley attempted to do this by rowing.  However, the current was just too strong.  Before he had to resort to mounting his outboard, we managed to flag down a local boat and they easily pulled the boat around.  Then Merry and Wiley rowed over to Orion Jr to celebrate their good fortune at being rescued and our accomplishment of 3 days of travel together.  Their stress had been greatly eased by having us to lead the way and talk through any trouble spots.  We were enjoying having company again.  It looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Can you hear me now?
“Ben Sawyer Bridge, Ben Sawyer Bridge, this is Orion Jr calling.”  Cathy repeated her hails a couple of times, getting no response.  With the bridge only a mile away, this was the latest in a series of signs that we had a problem with our VHF radio.  When we had a similar experience hailing the Maritime Center from a short distance away, we knew it was time to replace the weakest link in our radio system – the antenna.  Dave had already ordered a replacement Metz antenna after we had been having difficulty talking to marinas, bridges and other boats all the way down the ICW.  The antenna was waiting for us in Charleston.  To check that the antenna was truly the problem, Dave connected it to the radio down below and called Cathy on the handheld on shore with the old and new antenna.  The difference was dramatic.  He then was able to talk to the Ben Sawyer Bridge from miles away.  

Yep.  The problem was the antenna.

This was going to be Cathy’s first trip up the little boat’s mast.  We chose a quiet morning, with no ship traffic in sight.  The little boat swings much more wildly from the passing ship wakes than Orion did. Cathy didn’t want to be up the mast with that kind of rocking.  It turned out to be a very easy switch – an unusual event in boating repairs.  With the antenna in place, Dave talked to the bridge west of Charleston, with several miles and tons of buildings in between and had no trouble hearing or being heard.  Problem fixed.  The only downside would be the increased chatter that would now disturb our travels.  The price of success.

Water, Water Everywhere

Our trip south of Charleston, pounding into waves on the Stono River proved more eventful than just giving us a rough ride.  We were shipping water over the bow with each wave.  What we didn’t realize until we arrived at the anchorage was that the water was running through the edges of the forward hatch into the V-berth, making for wet bedding and cushions.  With fading sunlight, we pulled everything up on deck and managed to get the wind and weak sunlight to dry the bedding enough to make for a warm and dry night’s sleep.  Dave replaced the weather-stripping ( a delayed project from the summer) and we hoped for the best.

Just before we turned into the anchorage, we heard our small high water alarm go off.  Cathy checked to see where the water was coming from.  The bilge had enough water (not a lot), that the bilge pump float switch should have triggered the bilge pump to empty out.  However, even turning the bilge pump on at the breaker was not causing the pump to work.  After testing the wires, Dave determined the pump was bad.  We installed a less-powerful spare on board and the problem appeared to be solved.  The good news was that the extra water gave us a chance to test the manual bildge pump, which worked like a charm.  

Georgia's coming

So, we're done with SC and as December began we moved south to head into Georgia on the ICW for the first time.  Uncharted territory for this crew, but that's part of the reason why we're on a different boat this year.  

We’ve spent the last 2 weeks exploring new places in North Carolina and re-visiting places in both Carolinas that we haven’t seen in 5 years, since we first started south on our live-aboard journey. We had company early, with Pat and Fred joining us for the trip up the Pamlico to Washingon, NC and then set off on our own after they put Marianna into Northwest Creek to travel north for a wedding.

Little Washington

The fog refused to lift, running the risk of delaying our departure from Dowry Creek long enough to put Washington NC out of our reach.  We kept looking southeast, where the channel to the waterway should be and wondered when we would even be able to see the closest mark.  The sun rose, but the fog stubbornly clung to the water surface.  A couple of boats slipped out anyway and were quickly swallowed up.  We decided to wait.  By 9am, we could see the first few marks and decided to head out a little ahead of Marianna, since our slower speed was going to set the pace and ultimately determine our destination.

Washington, NC is 33 miles off the ICW, up the Pamlico River to the west of its intersection with the Pungo.  We were making this side trip to see some parts of NC typically missed by cruisers making a beeline south to Florida.  Washington offers 2 free nights on their free docks and there is a quaint historic downtown that we enjoyed exploring over the 4 days of our visit.  Locals call it “little” Washington, to avoid confusion with its bigger cousin in DC.  However, they are proud to point out that this one was named first (in 1776), the first city in America to be named for George Washington.  

The fog did eventually lift, but not before we had a stressful experience trying to locate that sailboat on the ICW that was heading for Orion Jr as it appeared and vanished in the shifting mist.  As most often happens on mornings with the fog, the sun did its work and soon the sky was clear and the water smooth and calm.  We pushed the engine a bit and decided we could make it to Washington at a reasonable time, despite our late departure and a slight ebbing current on the Pamlico. 

After our arrival, the dockmaster was quick to show up with a welcome packet and gave us an overview of the town.   Since the weather was going to turn nasty overnight, we took a quick walk through downtown in the fading light and discovered there would be a Beaufort County Traditional Music Association (BCTMA) “jam” session at the Inner Banks Artisans Center gallery on W Main St that evening.   It didn’t take us long to decide to return and check it out.  BCTMA is an organization of over 100 members who have an interest and a talent for playing traditional music, whether it be folk, gospel, bluegrass, etc.  We got to hear a smattering of a variety of different genres before the evening was over.  They had any number of instruments to accompany their vocal harmonies: banjos, guitars, mandolins, a base, harmonica, even the spoons. Our hostess, Bobby Jo, who provided refreshments, was equally entertaining and encouraged us to return on Saturday morning when the group gathered again. 

On Friday, as forecast, the rains came, the winds blew and the temperatures plunged.  To make the most of our visit in the weather, we rented a car and did some sightseeing out of the elements.  We took a ride on the free Bayview to Aurora ferry.  Chatting with one of the ferry’s engineers, we learned that it was instituted to provide transportation for workers at the Aurora phosphate plant on the Pamlico’s southern shore.  The plant started operation in the mid-60’s and ships its products out by tug and barge through the ICW to Morehead City.  An interesting side-effect of the mining effort is the treasure trove of fossils uncovered in its depths, revealing the sea life that covered this part of NC over hundreds of millions of years.  Many fossils are on display at the Aurora Fossil Museum, which reveals the size and shape of the huge predators and prey that were some of the oldest occupants of what was once a vibrant sea. 

Throughout our wanderings, we enjoyed some local cuisine.  We were told we had to stop at Bill’s, whose claim to fame was a simple chili dog.  The ordering process was simple, since they only thing they served was hot dogs with chili, mustard and onions.  You could have them hold the onions or go light on the chili, but don’t ask for catchup, it’s not an option.  The limited selected didn’t keep people away, since we had to stand in line to get ours and the orders in front of us were for 10 and 12 at a pop.  The next day, we took a ride south to Chocowinity for some homemade BBQ, slaw, and apple jack ( a dessert, not a drink) at the Memorial Free Will Baptist Church in nearby Chocowinity.  Although we walked into the place right at 11 am when they opened, the famous apple jack was already gone.  But the BBQ lived up to its reputation. 

We enjoyed another concert (not a jam session this time) with the BCTMA on Saturday night, with a Barbershop chorus and several singers performing a variety of songs, some of which were there own compositions.  Sunday was a quieter day.  After services at the First UMC, we wandered downtown and enjoyed the view of the river from the boat.  By Monday, it was time to leave, but we felt we had done justice to this little town.  

River Dunes to Socastee – The Inside Story

After spending a couple of nights north of Oriental in River Dunes, where we said goodbye for now to Pat and Fred, we moved on south, down the Neuse, through Adams Creek to Core Creek, past Morehead City and on to Swansboro.  The tides and currents returned with a vengeance, sweeping us gleefully down to Morehead City in a rush and then forcing us to grind our way south past the Beaufort inlet at speeds that hovered near 3 knots for over an hour, as the current tried its best to pull us out to the ocean, reminding us that this was the route we used to take with Orion.  Not with her little cousin.  Now we were back on the inside.

Our first stop was Swansboro, which was 50 miles from Oriental, a long day in Orion Jr , made longer by the opposing current for the latter part of the day.  Swansboro sits at the mouth of the White Oak River and just off the Bogue Inlet, making it a high current area, and our arrival was no exception.  We decided to stay here a few days to wait out weather, and pulled into Dudley’s, an inexpensive marina, with friendly staff and decent shower/restrooms.  We took their courtesy car to re-supply with alcohol, since Cathy discovered that she was no longer burning the alcohol in the stove, but the absorbent matting that was supposed to hold the alcohol.  (Oh, that’s why it doesn’t smell so good.)  We walked into town from some apple fritters at Yana’s and a blizzard at Dairy Queen.  (Does the exercise to walk there count, if there is a dessert at the end of the road?)  

“Gentlemen, start your engines”.  We didn’t actually hear it, but the words came to mind, when, on Saturday morning, after the front moved through, everyone on the dock was starting up to get underway at the same time. The dock attendants were out early to help us deal with the current and some awkward movements in what was going to be a favorable current, if we could just fight it enough to get out of the marina.  It went fine, but as we were rounding the bend past Casper’s Marina on the other side of the inlet, we both had a sinking feeling.  Lined up in front of us, but just off the waterway were dozens of little fishing boats, motoring around, lights on – waiting.  A fishing tournament was being held that day and the start time was 6:30am.  I looked at my watch:  6:28am.  Dave, they’re going to take off just as we get there.  Sure enough, the siren sounded and everyone took off at once, half of them in front of us and half of them behind.  The good news is that most of the wakes were at a 90 degree angle to us, making them easier to take. 

The next stretch of waterway had 4 opening bridges over 53 miles, two of which open only once an hour.  With the unpredictability of the current, it was too risky to plan a run to make it through all 4 on one day, so we planned a stop after the first 2, at Harbour Village Marina, just past the Surf City bridge.  Since this is an unusual stop for most of the ICW traffic, who either stop at an anchorage called Mile Hammock 15 miles beyond Swansboro or at Wrightsville Beach, just past the last bridge, we became “out of sync” with the regular traffic on this stretch of the waterway.  Our next day’s travel found us alone at the final 2 bridge openings.  Contrast that with 5 years ago, when we transited with at least a dozen boats at every bridge.  It was almost bizarre.  Since it was Sunday, we started picking up the weekend traffic of small boats going fishing or just out to enjoy the day at Wrightsville Beach.  After we fought some more current to get to the Cape Fear, we soared down the river, reaching 8 knots before making the turn back into the ICW at Southport.  With little traffic around us, we were surprised to hear the dockmaster at St. James Marina tell us we were the first of 8 boats to come in for the night.  What 8 boats?  As we started to turn into the marina, we looked behind us and there they were.  The boats from Mile Hammock had caught up with us.  We weren’t alone any more.  The good news was that one of the boats was Born to Cruise, who had traveled with us back from the Bahamas to Charleston back in 2009.  We caught up with them for a while until the bugs drove us inside.  

We had a later start the next morning, since we had a shorter run to Myrtle Beach and only 2 opening bridges, both of which were on request.  After encountering a pack of boats once we entered the waterway, once they passed us (and they always pass us), we were on our own again most of the day.  This stretch of the waterway was the most familiar to Cathy, since these beaches populated her past.  Holden Beach, Ocean Isle and finally, Sunset Beach, where we spent many summers with family.  The old Sunset Beach bridge was gone to the delight of every boater we talked to, and the shallow water at Lockwoods Folly and Shallote Inlet were no longer a concern for us.  Other than some more fierce current once we passed Sunset Beach bridge, the only gotcha that day was the final bridge.  With our marina no more than ¼ mile beyond the Barefoot Landing Bridge, we were held up almost an hour waiting for the workmen on the bridge to clear it.  Finally, we were allowed to pass and we pulled onto the dock as sunset was fast approaching.  

With a front approaching in a couple of days, we decided to hunker down at Osprey’s Marina, near the town of Socastee, SC for our next stop.  It was supposed be inexpensive and very nice, but it very remote.  Since it was only about 17 miles down the waterway, we had a much shorter run the next day from Myrtle Beach south.  That gave us time in the morning for showers, a grocery run and some re-fueling before finally pulling off the dock around 10am.  Wouldn’t you know it, the current this short day was with us, bringing us in before 2pm in what for us was record time. 

Boat Stuff

The sewing machine came back out when we arrived in Dowry Creek.  The spacious lounge gave Cathy room to work and, with Pat there to advise, they patterned and made 2 new panels for the enclosure to help provide a windbreak for the cold days of travel ahead. Cathy also made another pocket for the stern anchor line.  After Dave shredded some jeans doing wash (what were you doing, Dave), Cathy made more dock line chafe protection from them. 

Dave installed a new double 12V outlet under the companionway stairs, making it a shorter run for devices in the Main Saloon.  Finally, we learned a little more about the little boat the hard way, when we discovered the solar vent on the forward hatch is not exactly air or water tight.  At Dowry Creek, the after-effects of Hurricane Irene had created an explosion of house flies.  When these kept appearing below, despite our closing every hatch, we realized that we needed to cover the solar vent with a screen, which made a huge difference.  Then, in River Dunes, after Dave had washed off the boat in the morning, we started to crawl into bed that evening only to discover it was soaking wet.  Apparently the water hose had found the opening during the morning’s washdown.  Oops!  After sleeping on the settee overnight until the cushions could dry, we learned our lesson from that mistake.