Greetings from anchor in Awendaw Creek, about 60 miles from Charleston, SC. It’s been the most gorgeous day of the trip, 80 degrees and bright sunshine all the way, although the breeze made it feel more like 70 on the water.
We left Pipeline Creek early Friday morning. The sun was bright, but cold, and we were grateful that there was no wind. Our trip through the last bit of North Carolina was a bit like travelling through Venice on a huge canal. We passed through neighborhood after development, home after home, in all styles and price ranges, from double wides to mansions. To our amazement, as we crossed the South Carolina line, the houses suddenly stopped and we were treated to empty, tree lined shores. Further along we passed more development, but it wasn't the wall of homes we left behind in North Carolina.
Around sunset we turned off into Calabash Creek, anchoring to the side of the creek with four other boats. We knew the couple aboard Mon Isle, as they were neighbors for a short time on the docks in New Bern. They, in turn, had befriended the couple on the boat behind us, Airborne. Mon Isle invited us over for strawberry shortcake, and we accepted, eager to make new friends. After a quick trip to shore to walk Schnitzel, we enjoyed the company of our fellow boaters for the evening. We especially admired Mon Isle's dinghy, a Portland Pudgy (I didn't make that up.). Sturdy and squat, it is rated as a lifeboat as well as a dinghy. Like our Walker Bay, it has a sailing rig. Unlike the WB, though, you can stow the paddles, sails, and masts in the dinghy itself. That's one of the interesting things that happens when we meet fellow boaters -we get to admire their equipment and get new ideas about gear that would be useful to us.
Saturday turned into a trail ride. We were one of five boats that motored down the ICW in a long string, bunching up quickly as we approached bridges and then stringing out again once we left the bridges behind. Bridges on the ICW come in two types, namely those that are high enough to pass under and those that aren't. The low bridges all open, some on a schedule and some on demand. Everyone tries to time the scheduled openings as closely as possible in order to avoid having to hold station with a gaggle of other boats while waiting for the opening. We've met a lot of bridge tenders on the VHF and I wonder what that job would be like, watching for boat traffic, coaxing all the boats toward the bridge, so that it will be open as short a time as possible, and then working the mechanisms that lower the caution railings, release all the catches, and cause tons and tons of steel and concrete to swing out over the water.
In the afternoon the ICW left the canal and wandered into the Waccamaw River. It's a wild place, mostly cypress swamp, that winds along the coastland. Occasionally a small marina or a cluster of houses was visible through the trees, but mostly I could pretend I was along in a wilderness (as long as I didn't look at the boats behind us). The forest was a real Hansel and Gretel forest, dark and strange, with the trees perched on their bulbous root system in the dark mud. We turned off the river into Prince Creek, a horseshoe shaped tributary about a third the width of the main channel. We anchored in 25 feet of water, surrounded by forest and marsh, floating on the black water of the creek.
Airborne and Mon Isle joined us in the anchorage and we made a cozy threesome. I made pasta and invited the other two crews over for dinner. Airborne provided hot, fresh bread and a bottle of Haitian rum; Mon Isle brought cheese and crackers. Six people made just the right compliment for the cabin and we spent the evening getting better acquainted, telling stories, and laughing a lot. It was simply delightful.
Airborne is relatively new to cruising and earlier in the day, when we had decided to go to the same anchorage, David helpfully suggested they rig up a trip line since we were anchoring in the swamp. A trip line, for those of you who don’t know, is a float tied to a line that is in turn tied to the anchor. The float lets you know where your anchor is, since the boat has a lot of rode laid down between it and the actual anchor and drifts away from the point where the anchor is set. When you are pulling up the anchor to leave, the line also lets you pull the anchor from a different angle since it’s attached at a different point on the anchor than the chain, thus helping you get unstuck from tree roots and other underwater obstructions. Airborne agreed to rig up a trip line, taking our advice no doubt because we are experienced cruisers and know what we’re doing. Hoo, boy.
Raven reached the anchorage first. David fastened the trip line to the anchor, lowered the anchor…..and watched the float sink. We hung over the side in astonishment and chagrin, having no idea what had happened. We’ve dropped a trip line so many times before and it has never sunk! Airborne arrived just in time to watch the entire exercise and enjoy our clueless expressions. We had to haul the anchor up, very carefully, without putting the engine in gear (so the line wouldn’t foul the prop). Once he examined the float on board, while I held station at the helm, David decided that the new weight he had attached to the float was too heavy for it. We added an empty vinegar bottle to the end of the line as a second float and this time when we lowered the anchor the float actually floated. We managed to set the hook just as the sun set. So much for anchoring gracefully and competently.
The next day Mon Isle left before we did and Airborne left afterward, so we had the water almost to ourselves as we journeyed down the Waccamaw River. Our destination was Georgetown, SC which sits at the point where the Waccamaw River joins the north end of Winyah Bay. The ICW was so broad – imagine a twelve lane highway made of water – thickly lined with leafless grey cypress trees. The forest/swamp was dusted with autumn colors from the leaves of other bushes and trees and the broad sweep of water in front of us was speckled with floating clumps of green leaves. I thought at first that they were floating branches but then discovered as we passed by that they were some sort of broad-leafed plant, a kind of succulent that seems to live exclusively on the water. I so enjoyed being alone on the river, pretending to be a valiant explorer, and was quite disappointed when a sailboat appeared on our horizon about two hours into our day and preceded us all the way to Georgetown.
Georgetown is a charming place, a working town with two large factories (steel and paper mills) that has made the most of its waterfront to give tourists a pleasant destination. Our marina was about a mile from the downtown area (Georgetown Landing Marina – we highly recommend it), so David and Schnitzel and I walked in through the businesses that line Hwy 17, and then through the old residential part of town where vintage homes are framed by classic gnarled oak trees and buckled sidewalks. All sorts of businesses, cafes, and art galleries border Front Street, the main drag, and behind Front Street is the city marina and harbor with a boardwalk crowded with restaurants and gift shops. We quickly located the ice cream parlor and then enjoyed our ice cream while sitting by the water. In additon to our afternoon of sightseeing, we took care of the chores that had brought us to shore, namely fueling the boat, getting a pump out, topping up the water tanks, doing the laundry, unplugging a sluggish sink, taking the trash ashore, and picking up a few supplies and tools at a nearby convenience store and hardware store.
Back on the water this morning, we sped south, enjoying a strong current that pushed Raven to 7 knots across the bay. We covered 30 miles in about 5 ½ hours, really good time. The scenery has been perfect. Because it is marshland and park area, there are few houses or other manmade structures. At times we were surrounded by land that spread its golden crewcut of rough marsh grass for a mile in every direction. I felt as though we were floating across the prairie. In other places there were bushes and trees, sometimes crowding the banks, but mostly growing sparsely and well back from the waterway. I spotted a bald eagle in one tall tree and that made my whole day. We saw a pair of bald eagles in Maine in the summer of 2006; this is only the third one I’ve seen.
Our anchorage tonight is on the other side of an island that borders the ICW. One other boat shares the spot with us; other than that it is just us and the stars and something in the marsh that coughs occasionally and makes the roosting ducks squawk and flap in the tall grass. Maybe an alligator?? Or a cougar? We pulled up the boat ladder, just in case it can both swim and climb… There’s a new moon tonight, and the sky is very, very dark except for the glow of distant cities to the west and north. The Milky Way is splattered across the sky above us, from horizon to horizon, and I amused myself for awhile renaming various star clusters. There’s the Arrowhead, Woman with a Basket, and a Scorpion (David assures me it’s not Scorpio, but it looks like a Scorpion to me). A deep fog is seeping its way toward us over the islands next to the sea, and it is so profoundly quiet my ears hurt.
Tomorrow we will make more progress toward Beaufort, SC, past Charleston, right on the border with Georgia. Hopefully the good weather will hold another few days. Once in Beaufort we’ll see what the weather is like and then decide when to pop outside for an overnight down the Georgia coast. We have heard over and over again that in addition to adding 100 miles to the trip because it is so winding, the Georgia stretch of the ICW is shallow because of the drought they’ve had all year and poorly maintained to boot. So we’ll wait for the next bit of warm, clear weather and bypass the whole issue.
Airborne is relatively new to cruising and earlier in the day, when we had decided to go to the same anchorage, David helpfully suggested they rig up a trip line since we were anchoring in the swamp. A trip line, for those of you who don’t know, is a float tied to a line that is in turn tied to the anchor. The float lets you know where your anchor is, since the boat has a lot of rode laid down between it and the actual anchor and drifts away from the point where the anchor is set. When you are pulling up the anchor to leave, the line also lets you pull the anchor from a different angle since it’s attached at a different point on the anchor than the chain, thus helping you get unstuck from tree roots and other underwater obstructions. Airborne agreed to rig up a trip line, taking our advice no doubt because we are experienced cruisers and know what we’re doing. Hoo, boy.
Raven reached the anchorage first. David fastened the trip line to the anchor, lowered the anchor…..and watched the float sink. We hung over the side in astonishment and chagrin, having no idea what had happened. We’ve dropped a trip line so many times before and it has never sunk! Airborne arrived just in time to watch the entire exercise and enjoy our clueless expressions. We had to haul the anchor up, very carefully, without putting the engine in gear (so the line wouldn’t foul the prop). Once he examined the float on board, while I held station at the helm, David decided that the new weight he had attached to the float was too heavy for it. We added an empty vinegar bottle to the end of the line as a second float and this time when we lowered the anchor the float actually floated. We managed to set the hook just as the sun set. So much for anchoring gracefully and competently.
The next day Mon Isle left before we did and Airborne left afterward, so we had the water almost to ourselves as we journeyed down the Waccamaw River. Our destination was Georgetown, SC which sits at the point where the Waccamaw River joins the north end of Winyah Bay. The ICW was so broad – imagine a twelve lane highway made of water – thickly lined with leafless grey cypress trees. The forest/swamp was dusted with autumn colors from the leaves of other bushes and trees and the broad sweep of water in front of us was speckled with floating clumps of green leaves. I thought at first that they were floating branches but then discovered as we passed by that they were some sort of broad-leafed plant, a kind of succulent that seems to live exclusively on the water. I so enjoyed being alone on the river, pretending to be a valiant explorer, and was quite disappointed when a sailboat appeared on our horizon about two hours into our day and preceded us all the way to Georgetown.
Georgetown is a charming place, a working town with two large factories (steel and paper mills) that has made the most of its waterfront to give tourists a pleasant destination. Our marina was about a mile from the downtown area (Georgetown Landing Marina – we highly recommend it), so David and Schnitzel and I walked in through the businesses that line Hwy 17, and then through the old residential part of town where vintage homes are framed by classic gnarled oak trees and buckled sidewalks. All sorts of businesses, cafes, and art galleries border Front Street, the main drag, and behind Front Street is the city marina and harbor with a boardwalk crowded with restaurants and gift shops. We quickly located the ice cream parlor and then enjoyed our ice cream while sitting by the water. In additon to our afternoon of sightseeing, we took care of the chores that had brought us to shore, namely fueling the boat, getting a pump out, topping up the water tanks, doing the laundry, unplugging a sluggish sink, taking the trash ashore, and picking up a few supplies and tools at a nearby convenience store and hardware store.
Back on the water this morning, we sped south, enjoying a strong current that pushed Raven to 7 knots across the bay. We covered 30 miles in about 5 ½ hours, really good time. The scenery has been perfect. Because it is marshland and park area, there are few houses or other manmade structures. At times we were surrounded by land that spread its golden crewcut of rough marsh grass for a mile in every direction. I felt as though we were floating across the prairie. In other places there were bushes and trees, sometimes crowding the banks, but mostly growing sparsely and well back from the waterway. I spotted a bald eagle in one tall tree and that made my whole day. We saw a pair of bald eagles in Maine in the summer of 2006; this is only the third one I’ve seen.
Our anchorage tonight is on the other side of an island that borders the ICW. One other boat shares the spot with us; other than that it is just us and the stars and something in the marsh that coughs occasionally and makes the roosting ducks squawk and flap in the tall grass. Maybe an alligator?? Or a cougar? We pulled up the boat ladder, just in case it can both swim and climb… There’s a new moon tonight, and the sky is very, very dark except for the glow of distant cities to the west and north. The Milky Way is splattered across the sky above us, from horizon to horizon, and I amused myself for awhile renaming various star clusters. There’s the Arrowhead, Woman with a Basket, and a Scorpion (David assures me it’s not Scorpio, but it looks like a Scorpion to me). A deep fog is seeping its way toward us over the islands next to the sea, and it is so profoundly quiet my ears hurt.
Tomorrow we will make more progress toward Beaufort, SC, past Charleston, right on the border with Georgia. Hopefully the good weather will hold another few days. Once in Beaufort we’ll see what the weather is like and then decide when to pop outside for an overnight down the Georgia coast. We have heard over and over again that in addition to adding 100 miles to the trip because it is so winding, the Georgia stretch of the ICW is shallow because of the drought they’ve had all year and poorly maintained to boot. So we’ll wait for the next bit of warm, clear weather and bypass the whole issue.
1 comment:
Hey, guys, nice blog! Hope you get more warm weather on your way south. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2008!
Carol
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