Orion Jr docked in Little Washington
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.
Fog over Dowry Creek
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.
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.
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.
BCTMA members performing
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.
Cathy in a megalodon jaw. These predators needed some big prey.
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.
This float shows a strong current flowing against us
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.
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?)
Orion Jr on the dock at Dudleys
“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.
Surf City Bridge
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.
ICW at Barefoot Landing
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.
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.
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.
