Ten Days on the Road, er, Creek

[Hilde’s log]

Never underestimate the value of dry, clean sheets! After ten days "on the road" we pulled into Harborwalk Marina in Georgetown, SC, plugged into the AC, and stripped every bit of cloth from the boat. Five loads of laundry and four hours later, we sank gratefully onto the settees and gloried in cool, dry air, clean bodies, and dry bedding. Ahhhh. We sure enjoy being plugged in when it happens.

Since Beaufort, we've traveled ten days straight without coming in to land, with the exception of a brief stop at Isle of Palms for diesel and water. Raven chugged right by Charleston without any desire to stop. We were there two weeks ten years ago, and although we have fond memories of the old city, weren't tempted to stop this time.

Instead, we kept going and pulled out to anchor in Whiteside Creek, north of the city. Another on our list of beautiful places, we ended up staying two nights.

Glamor shot of me filling the water tank. We stopped at the fuel dock at Isle of Palms, just north of Charleston, for diesel and water and potato chips. The essentials.

Sunrise, Whiteside Creek, our first anchorage north of Charleston.

On lazy mornings, when the tide doesn't rise until noon, David gets a much better breakfast!

We spent the whole day at anchor, again seduced by the still beauty all around us, broken by the occasional deer fly, bent on a quick snack. SWAT. The next morning we motored another 15 miles to Awendaw Creek.

Anchorage at Whiteside Creek

Our next stop found Raven floating at anchor about as close to the Atlantic as you can get, without being actually out in the Atlantic, in Awendaw Creek. Just across the marsh and nestled in among the trees, I could see a few houses, but if I looked in the other direction, all I could see was the slim outline of some barrier marshes and the sparkle of light on the water. If you have followed the “breadcrumb trail”, you will have seen this place, where it looks as though we were anchored in the ocean.

Both days of travel north from Charleston were marked by a parade of Hatteras fishing boats. These are high dollar fishing vessels, and we were passed by at least ten of them, coming in clumps down the ICW, throwing high wake to either side of the canal. All were well-captained and obligingly slowed down as they went past. We just scratched our heads at the sheer numbers. Headed south for a boat show? Fishing tournament? Breeding season? Who knows.

One of the Hatteras boats that passed us. These bad boys cost about $1 million per boat... Also, what is the plural of Hatteras? Hatteri?

Awendaw Creek stuck in our minds as one of the memorable anchorages from our trip south a decade ago. We anchored here in December, and I remembered the oyster reefs where we tentatively went ashore to pee our schnauzer, Schnitzel, me keeping a wary eye out for alligators even in that cold air. The water was looking-glass still at night, and I remember the carpet of stars above us, shards of twinkling glass in that clear, cold sky, all of which were reflected in every detail in the black, still water around us. It was like floating free in a star field.

Awendaw Creek is a wide-open anchorage.

The view was totally different this time. We were surrounded by green marsh grass and trees in full leaf. The wind kicked up, and Raven danced at anchor the whole time we were there.

Looking across the marshes from Awendaw Creek, you can see houses peeking through the trees.

An egret looks for lunch amid the oyster beds. This is what we waded through to take the dog ashore all those years ago.

With high winds forecast, I did not feel at ease with so much open space around us, so after only one night we moved on to Minim Creek, motoring by the Francis Marion National Forest and the Santee Coastal Reserve, wilderness on both sides of the canal. (see below)

The rain that had been dogging us for a week finally caught us at Minim Creek. David did manage to rig the sail kit on our dinghy and puttered around the creek, but later in the afternoon the clouds closed in and we sat through about 24 hours of heavy showers. The mosquitoes were out in force, and somehow found ways in through our screens. We carried several of the big, black, toothy insects with us all the way up Winyah Bay to Georgetown.

Coming out into Winyah Bay

If you turn right, you head out into the Atlantic

Technology has changed so much about cruising in the last ten years. We've had cell phone access in almost every anchorage (not Minim Creek, where we really wanted to know when the rain would clear out). Internet access has taken much of the mystery of traveling with the tides and gives us instant access to weather and wind strength along the way. Instead of consulting a battered tide book to determine when to travel up or down a river, or over shallow spots in the ICW, we have instruments on board that show us exactly where we are in the tide cycle at our present position.

I can upload photos and post the blog almost anywhere, instead of having to wait to hook up to a marina’s questionable wi-fi, or having to lug the computer to the local library for internet access. In most areas we can make and receive telephone calls with ease, even video-calls.

We can watch TV on our phones almost every night, if we want to, not to mention calling ahead to make reservations at upcoming marinas or to alert fuel docks that we are approaching. It’s a lot less like traveling by covered wagon, and a whole lot more like driving an RV along a highway through a national park, although the views on the water remain unsurpassed.

Nice improvements! Now, if I could just figure out how to keep the sheets from getting soggy.

Blessed Quiet

[Hilde’s log]

Our path from Beaufort took us from the Beaufort River north up the Coosaw River, across St. Helena Sound, then through the Ashepoo-Coosaw cutoff (where we stopped short to avoid being creamed by a giant container ship) to the Ashapoo River. Angling through the Fenwick Cut, we anchored in about 20 feet of water in the South Edisto River, beside Fenwick Island. I keep these details because, although we know we came down this way ten years ago, I have absolutely no memory of the area, other than one or two anchorages that have stuck in my head. So this time I am keeping track. Off Fenwick Island, we anchored next to friends Ann and Tony on Stella Maris. The next morning, they set off for Charleston, but the area was so incredibly calm and beautiful we couldn’t bear to leave, so we spent a lovely day floating alone, marshes and woodlands on either side of the wide expanse of water.

The birds in the trees sang all day.

A glorious break of day.

This whole area is gorgeous and makes the trip worthwhile. As a refugee from a metropolitan area of over 12 million, and as a life-time reluctant city dweller, I delight in the absence of human buildup. There are houses scattered over these islands, but they are not, for the most part, intrusive, and many areas seem deserted (I know they aren’t, but I pretend).

Anchoring in a remote area is so restful to the soul. My favorite time of day is the early morning, when the soft, cool morning air is filled with birdsong from the neighboring trees and the only other sound is the gurgle of the current against Raven’s hull, the slap of waves on the nearby shore, and the croak of the occasional frog. Air that has only been breathed by trees and the sea is simply intoxicating, like a crisp chardonnay for the lungs. The absence of all sounds of mechanization makes me go limp with relief. We can usually enjoy about two hours of “silence” before the fishing boats break into our little cocoon of quiet. I am ridiculously territorial, resenting any intrusion by anyone into our solitude.

anchorage at Fenwick, in the morning 

The next leg of the trip took us from the South Edisto River through Watts Cut to the Dawho River, which spills into the North Edisto River. That turns into Wadmalaw Sound, and we turned off there to anchor in Church Creek. As we left our anchorage across from Fenwick Island, we noticed quite a build up of black clouds to the west. A check of the radar revealed a nasty little clump of rain cells that was passing us to the north and west. It dogged us all day, sometimes nearer, sometimes farther away. Only one shower found us, but I couldn’t believe the rainstorm was moving as slowly as we were. There was no lightening, so it wasn’t scary – in fact, made for pretty good pictures!

 Beautiful passage, rain notwithstanding

I should mention here that David is our resident photographer. If you see a good photo, he’s usually the one who took it. I get lucky sometimes, but often steal his shots as they are usually better than mine. Credit where credit is due! Also maybe this will poke him to do a blog entry. (Ahem.)

Typical pose of our resident photo-guru.

Today as I write this, we are at anchor in Church Creek, one of seven boats who chose to spend the night here. Yeah, crowded. Sigh. You will see how silly I am when you see how far the other boats are from us, but still. We are waiting for the tide to rise, as some of these cuts are notoriously shallow – so why stress?

Our "crowded" anchorage in Church Creek. We were one of seven boats.

This morning as we had our tea on deck, we think we heard a loon call. Google informed us that yes, there are loons as far as South Carolina in May. I was amazed; I thought they stayed in the far north. Other informative tidbits: they are a very large bird (5 foot wingspan), are not related to ducks, have solid bones, and have been around for about 65 million years.

Morning tea. Side order of foot, optional.

Wandering through South Carolina - Beaufort

[Hilde’s log]

First views of South Carolina, palms and pines.

I’m thinking of changing Raven’s name to Drifter, due to our very leisurely attitude since leaving Savannah (Just kidding; we’d never change her name!) Our first day out of Savannah, we managed a whole five miles, then plopped into a broad, marsh-lined creek and set the hook. The next day we wandered another 15 miles or so, and the third day we arrived in Beaufort, South Carolina. The good news is, we caught a mooring ball at the city marina. The bad news is, we arrived tired at the end of the day in 20 knot winds. I had to fight contrary wind and river current while David wrestled with catching the ball. On the best days we aren’t very graceful with this maneuver; that afternoon we were a wee bit testy with one another by the time we were done. A pot of tea soon put us to rights, and we were very glad to have a ball and not worry about the anchor coming loose, as they sometimes do in a lot of wind.

The daily commute, here from Beaufort docks to Raven on the mooring ball.

Our original plan was a couple of days on the ball, visiting good cruising friends Penny and Richard, who have settled here permanently. The weather forecast was for a lot of strong wind over the week, so we elected to stay, as part of our route on the way to Charleston was St. Helena Sound, a wide-open body of water. Strong winds against the current there would have made for a miserable ride. We have no schedule (yay!), so why sign up for punishment? We ended up staying a week.

Beaufort is one of those “sticky” towns – it’s a place that is so nice, it’s hard to leave. Succumbing to development (albeit nice development) is going to make a mess of it, but on the boat and limited to walking around downtown, you don’t have to interact with traffic. There’s a lot to see and do in walking distance, and no worries on the mooring ball, so it’s a great cruising stop.

It was very warm there most days, although with the clouds and a bit of rain it cooled off regularly. The locals were panting, but Texans that we are, we just shrugged. It is nowhere near as hot as Texas is this time of year. Just pleasantly warm. The no see ‘ems were all over the place, and they think I am just yummy. I slathered myself in a coating of “No Natz” which is a combination of flower oils that no see ‘ems (also called midges) don’t seem to like. Their bites are like chigger bites, so I call them “flying chiggers.” It’s really beautiful here in the low country, but those bugs make it a lot less attractive! Our friends here recommended a bug repellent lantern of sorts for days when there is little to no wind. We tried it once and it may help. Ugh, bugs. Good news: when the breeze blows, it keeps them away. We had no complaint with the winds!

Beaufort County is made up of a number of islands on the Atlantic Coast, close to the sea. The downtown area of the town of Beaufort is an old historic district, filled with beautiful 100 and 200 year old houses – all very “southern mansion” type homes. We splurged on a one hour carriage ride, about 10 of us sitting in an open air carriage pulled by a slow and patient draft horse named Angus. The driver told us all about the area and about the homes we were passing. At one time money was made here growing indigo (for the blue dye) and, of course, cotton. 

Angus, getting sweet feed treats after the tour.

A lovely, low-key way to see part of the historic downtown.

The most interesting person our driver told us about was a man named Robert Smalls. Born a slave, Mr. Smalls was sent off to school to learn a trade, evidently so that he could eventually buy his freedom. He started work on the waterways and became skilled in boat handling and life on the water. In the Civil War, he was so well thought of that he was left in charge of a large Confederate ship while the officers went ashore. He brought on board his own family and several other families of slaves, and stole the ship! Wearing the captain’s uniform, he sailed out of Charleston under cover of night. He knew all the signals to get past the forts, etc., and took the ship out to the Union vessels off shore. As a reward, he was commissioned as a captain in the Union navy and paved the way for other African-Americans to serve in the Union army. After the war, he came back to Beaufort, and became very active in the life of the city, founding a church and starting public education in Beaufort. He was well respected as a fair man (this during the ravages of Reconstruction) and a man of character. He found the wife of his former owner wandering the streets of Beaufort, destitute and on the verge of dementia, and took her into his home (which was the home of the man who had owned him – he bought it at a tax sale) and looked after her there for the rest of his life. Wow. He eventually became a US Congressman.

The houses, of course, are gorgeous. The city’s historical society has insisted that the area be preserved, and so all building and additions, etc., have to conform to the look of the era of the houses in the neighborhood. There are some “new” houses, but they were built before the code was established in 1973. All I could think of as we rode by was the enormous amount of upkeep each house requires. After all, they are built of wood in this hot and damp climate! Not to mention just the housework involved in such huge places. I’m glad to live on my tiny boat. I don’t have the housework gene, I’m afraid.

Wow, the porch! Picture me with a mint julep in hand...

A more modestly-sized dwelling.

We also linked up with cruising friends we met in Savannah, Tony and Ann, sharing a very pleasant breakfast at the must-do cafe, Blackstone’s. David and I spent a couple of mornings walking the old town, admiring the old churches and graveyards, and finding a cafe that had Blue Bell ice cream. We paid that cafe two visits, David lurping Blue Bell and me nursing iced tea or Diet Dr. Pepper and a grudge. I miss being able to eat those sweet treats!

No comment. Hmphf.

St. Helena’s, one of the churches in downtown Beaufort, was established in 1712; the current church building was built in the early 1800s. The inside of the church is all white, with clear glass windows everywhere. The altar was hand-carved by Union sailors who frequented the church during the Civil War, and it’s simply gorgeous. We’ve been to some wonderful old churches since we got to this part of the coast, all started in the early 1700’s! The “new” buildings we have visited were built in the 1830s and 1840s. Pretty old by Texas standards, but laughably new by European standards. In Canterbury, near where David is from in England, the cathedral was founded in 597, and the church was rebuilt between 1070 and 1077, and again in 1174, after a fire. The “new” church was built in the late 1300s. That’s old.

St. Helena's Church (Anglican).

Part of the old graveyard around the church. Vets from all wars are honored with flags.

Raven - Charleston, SC

[From Captain Dave]

Hi! Everyone:

It was June 2006 when Raven was last in Charleston, SC. We had made a long trek “on the outside” from Jacksonville, FL, and were so glad of an opportunity to rest that we anchored for two weeks in the Ashley River. Today, as we followed a reversed track from Winyah Bay down the ICW into the east side of Charleston harbor, we felt much more at ease than we did one year ago. Dare I say that we are getting the hang of this cruising life at last?

Tonight we are at anchor in Wappoo Creek, just off the west side of the harbor, again in the ICW. We arrived around 1530, in plenty of time to set two anchors, ready for when the current turns 180 degrees in this narrow channel. We are expecting dense fog again, tomorrow morning. It socked us in this morning at Awendaw Creek in Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge. This is now one of my favorite anchorages. There is nothing around for miles but marshes. I stepped outside last night and easily saw the Milky Way. All the stars of Orion were mirrored in the still water, so clear that there were in effect two Orions visible, one on top of the other. The fog began to form around 2200, the glow from the anchor light being reflected back down to the deck. Animals on the marshes rustled and called. Something with large lungs yawned loudly, stimulating images of alligators. If animals think at all, they must wonder if they will survive the night. It used to be that way for humans, too.

On the run from Georgetown to Awendaw Creek we were passed by only one boat, a motor trawler who hailed us to request us to slow down to let him pass. In return, he went by with minimal wake. Like so many trawler owners, he opened his cabin door close the steering station to come outside and shout greetings. We were so impressed by the compactness of his craft that we hailed him for a short chat on the VHF. Turns out it is a thirty year old Pearson motor cruiser that he’s had for over twenty years. It is powered by two, 4-cylinder John Deere tractor motors, each burning 1.3 gallons per hour. To our eyes, it was a sturdy, unpretentious vessel. So many that we see are huge and extravagant, conspicuous consumption afloat. Still, compared to Raven’s 0.6 gallons per hour, it is horrendously fuel-hungry.

At Georgetown, we stayed at Georgetown Landing Marina. We took on fuel and water. We deposited trash and black water. Service here was excellent and the rates very reasonable. We walked about a mile into town. Schnitzel was as delighted to be stretching her legs as we were. Our mission was to find Ice cream, which we did. Front Street was quiet (Sunday Afternoon) and very picturesque. I took many photos and we enjoyed walking the boardwalk along the river’s edge, wondering what it might have been like to anchor in such a narrow channel. By the time we returned to Raven, we were all dragging our feet.

Next morning, before leaving, we walked to the BP gas station and bought the essentials: milk, bread, and potato chips. The only bread available was Wonder Bread, an appropriate name because we wonder if it is really bread at all. Nearby is Schofield’s hardware store. This is an Aladdin’s Cave for all sorts of boat parts: galvanized shackles, funnels, hose connectors, propane cylinders, etc. What a barn of a place.

Tonight, I remembered to check Raven’s engine oil while the engine was still warm. Engine oil just doesn’t flow well in the morning, when it is cold. (I sympathize. I’m the same way.) My other chore tonight was to clean the paddle when on the knot meter sensor. I am always reluctant to do this because when I remove the sensor from the keel, a 1.5” column of water rushed into the bilge, until I insert the blank plug into the hole. I am always fearful of dropping something and sinking Raven on the spot. The reality is much less trouble than my fears predict. The Neuse River growth was like hairy mud, containing tiny barnacles. The cleaned sensor is now back in place and for the first time in weeks, we shall be able to compare our speed through the water and our speed over the bottom. Why bother? To determine the effects of current on Raven’s progress. In still water, both readings should be the same. A difference in readings indicates current, either helping or hindering our progress.

The warm, calm weather is very welcome. The cabin remains warm at night, even at anchor, when we cannot run our heat pump. Heat in these conditions comes from a small Coleman propane heater. It is rated at 1000 BTU, which is little better than a single candle might emit, or so it feels sometimes.

In two more days, we should be in Beaufort, SC, where we shall reprovision and make ready for the hop “on the outside” to St Mary’s, GA, close to the GA-FL state line, and Fernandina Beach, FL.

Best regards from Raven.