Enter the Chesapeake

On Thursday morning, as we pulled out of the Tidewater Yacht Marina into the shipping channel we immediately encountered large traffic. Vessels like cruise ships, oceangoing tugs and navy vessels. We idled along at 7 mph gawking at all the nautical scenery. There was a light fog developing so I turned on the radar for the first time on this voyage.

As we passed the Norfolk Navy Yard we saw two more aircraft carriers (USS Washington and USS Eisenhower), multiple destroyers and missile launchers, and other gray ships we didn't recognize. We looked a mile ahead and saw four tugs pulling the white Navy hospital ship "Comfort" into the channel from her berth. We snuck around her and later heard her "Securite'" call as she headed out into the Atlantic.






As we exited the James River, crossing over the Hampton Rhodes Bridge Tunnel, the fog got thicker and waves got bigger. My radar (and vision) found a huge target coming at us. We passed very close to a Navy cargo ship and Linda looked it up on her device as she had been doing all morning.






Photo off of the web





What we saw!

We needed to turn northward to reach Salt Ponds about 10 miles away. When we made the turn it put the large waves on our beam, creating a very uncomfortable ride. The Chief Morale Officer starting panting, a sure sign that her morale was sinking.

We had no choice but to gut it out for the next hour. Invictus had no problem with it. We learned that we will try to avoid 3 foot waves on our beam. Here in the mouth of the Chesapeake we were exposed to the Atlantic Ocean to the east. As we get a little further up we will start to get some protection from the Delmarva Peninsula that forms the Eastern shore.

As we pulled into Salt Ponds and tied up it started to rain. We took advantage of a break in the rain later to walk a mile into town for a pizza. Since it is a beach town they have a strong prohibition against glass packaging. Linda had her first "can" of wine (and liked it).

We went home and were watching the local evening news when the National Weather Service issued a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for our area. At midnight their prediction came true and we got slammed with a wild storm. Olive looked at me from her bed and said with her eyes, "Really? What's next?"

Friday's forecast was not too sporty. Overcast and a high of 56. Just to make Olive's trifecta, I gave her a bath on deck as Linda went running. Then I took her below to nap in front of the heater before we departed at 11:00.

We had planned a late departure because the marine forecast was predicting that the waves would be smaller in the afternoon (1-2 foot) than in the morning (2-3 foot). We wanted to make some northerly progress toward the Tides Inn in Irvington, Virginia where we a planning to meet friends who are driving down from Northern Virginia.

We started out motoring at 10 mph into the waves. We had a fifty mile trip to Irvington, but I had identified some closer stops if the ride was too lumpy. After a few minutes of bouncing into the waves, I said to Linda,"Let's try going faster and see how that feels." She said, "Go for it, because Olive doesn't like this." I punched it up to 20 mph and guess what...it was more comfortable. So we did that for three hours and reached Irvington at 2:00. That's when it's good to have an express cruiser.

The Tides Inn is a real treasure. We are one of two boats in their Marina. They treat us like one of their regular guests of the Inn, with full access to all of the amenities. On Saturday, we played golf on their executive course with clubs borrowed from the Inn. It was a blast! Our friends arrived and we are eating our way through this neck of Virginia.



Selfie on the golf course


Martini by the fire pit at Tides Inn









We like it so much we are going to stay here for three nights, do laundry, play golf, drink cocktails and act like we are on the longest vacation of our lives.


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The last 50 miles of the ICW

Warning: This post was written with the author wearing martini goggles as we celebrated the achievement of reaching Mile Zero, Norfolk!

We left the functional, but colorless Marina at Coinjock at 9:30 after showers and yoga. Well, Linda did yoga and Olive and I tended to the boat. We were the last boat to leave because everyone was trying to figure out how to time their trips to match the schedules of the swing bridges and drawbridges to get into "Naw-fuk."

After the rough water of the Albemarle Sound, today's trip was much smoother. We rode through the dredged channel, watching the chart plotter carefully because we were doing 20 mph in 10 feet of water. We hit all of the bridges (and the lock) on perfect schedule.

Notice I said lock. There is a single lock on the man-made Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal. Like our locks in Tennessee it is operated by the Army Corps of Engineers. Unlike our locks, its total "lift" was six inches. We rigged up like we were going through the mighty Wilson Lock only to be told "hold on, we're going up six inches." Linda said it was like lots of girls wedding nights -- lots of preparation for a very short ride.






We blasted out of the lock and in a few minutes arrived at the Top Rack Marina at 1:15, where we had a reservation for the night.

As we approached the docks we saw lots of blue lights and 50 police officers in the parking lot. We decided the Marina didn't look that great and we didn't want to be a part of whatever was happening. We called ahead to the the Tidewater Marina eight miles further up in Portsmouth/Norfolk and asked if they had room for us. They did. We proved once again that you need to remain flexible.

The next eight miles took us through the shipyards of Norfolk where there were many Navy ships being rebuilt or maintained. The big excitement was seeing the country's newest aircraft carrier, the U.S.S. George H. W. Bush in final stages of construction.



As soon as we tied off in the Tidewater Marina, we got off the boat and walked through the historic district of old Portsmouth. During this walk (with the CMO) we picked out a restaurant for dinner and then headed back toward the Marina. The wind had turned from the NE and the temperature dropped to 61. We watched the local news and saw a thunderstorm coming so we decided to eat on board. Another good decision because we would have had a very wet walk home if we had gone out.












During the dinner preparation, we discussed the next few days and were we want to go. Once again, we are excited about seeing places we have only read about. Until tomorrow.

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Belhaven to Coinjock - a long day

Well, we looked at the map and weather forecast and decided we should make a long run on Tuesday -- 90 miles from Belhaven to Coinjock. Our primary concern was crossing the Albemarle Sound in good weather.

The Albemarle is a shallow bay and therefore can be whipped into a frenzy by the wind. It has quite a reputation. The forecast called for moderate winds out of the Southwest. Since we were traveling Northeast, that sounded good. Rain is in the forecast for Wednesday and Thursday, so we decided to do this trip in one long day.

So, I think we did the right thing. But I'm not sure. We traversed two big bays. The first was the Alligator River. The wind built as we crossed this bay and Linda said at one point, "How could any alligator swim in this wild water!"

Then we passed thru the Alligator River swing bridge and passed the Alligator Marina on our way into the Albemarle sound. As we entered my anemometer was reading 20 knots from the SE (behind us). The chart plotter was telling me that it was a 10-mile crossing. So that's one hour at 10 knots or 30 minutes at 20 knots. I opted for a faster crossing to keep the first mate and CMO happy.

A few minutes into the crossing the wind built to 30 knots and the waves were in the 2 to 3 foot range (from our stern quarter). Invictus handled it beautifully, but it was a wild ride. At one point, when the bow plowed in after surfing down a big wave, Linda said, "That was scary."

I agreed. After crossing the sound, we snaked up the canal to a wide spot known as Coinjock at 2:30. I was exhausted and the CMO needed to pee. We had our calmest day and our biggest waves back to back. But nobody was sick or hurt and it will probably help prepare us for bigger waters ahead.



The entire economy of Coinjock is built on yacht traffic. There is one restaurant that specializes in prime rib. Diesel fuel is a little more expensive here ($1.98) because you are captive. Nonetheless, we were happy to tie off and enjoy an evening of cooking aboard and blogging so we don't forget what we are experiencing.



We both agreed that we don't want anymore 90-mile days -- unless we have to. On the other hand, we learned things about our boat and the waters of North Carolina today that will stick with us for a long time.

As we went to bed, we said once again, "This is the trip of a lifetime." Mark Twain was right when he said, "Throw off the bow lines, Explore!"

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Coastal North Carolina comes to an end

Sunday morning's departure from Swan Point started with a sweet loaf of cinnamon bread cooked by the Marina manager, Evelyn. Combined with our coffee made in the French press, we were feeling cosmopolitan as we left the most rural Marina in North Carolina.



And we left in a hurry because we were trying to make the "swing bridge" six miles to the north that only opens every thirty minutes. As we came around the corner at 7:30 the bridge was swinging open for the boats collected there and we fell in line. Whew. We were on our way to Oriental and had a big day in front of us -- 63 miles.

About an hour later we were flying to the East, into the morning sun dancing on the water, when we heard a "thunk" hit the hull and we turned to look in the wake and saw a white float from a crab trap exit the rear of the boat. Its white color had blended into the morning sun making it invisible. Fortunately it passed between the propellers doing no harm to our sensitive running gear.

We had fallen into traveling with a 50-foot French express cruiser named "Crash." As we idled through the fishing boats in the channel at Morehead City I turned right toward the next green buoy. In a few seconds the radio crackled and Crash said, "Where are you going Invictus?" I turned around and saw he had correctly turned to the north and I was headed out to sea. I admitted my mistake and turned to follow him. The only thing hurt was my pride and 5 minutes of backtracking.

At noon we started our crossing of the Neuse River to reach Oriental. The wind was strong out of the Northeast and the river was chopped up. We slowed down to reduce the spray and motion. After all, we were going to reach Oriental by 1:00 p.m., so what was the rush? We pulled into the cute little town and snuggled into our berth on the town's Main Street.



We had a delightful day in "The sailing capital of North Carolina." The Marina was spotless and service impeccable. The Chief Morale Officer was so comfortable here that she would jump off of the boat at will to chase squirrels in the trees of the Marina and the then return when she was convinced that she couldn't catch them. I wondered if that was an allegory for my trip and then decided I needed another drink to ponder it.

We took a slow start on Monday morning so that Linda could run a few miles and I could do some boat maintenance chores. When we left at 9:15 we couldn't believe our eyes as we put our bow back into the Neuse River. It was glassy calm -- unrecognizable from the day before. We enjoyed the best day of the trip as we glided toward Belhaven, 45 miles away.

We arrived at 1:30 and just as we were tying up in the marina a big breeze started building from the Southeast. Our comfortable spot became a boiling teakettle and Eddie the dockhand said, "Did you do something to make the boss man mad?" He smiled and said, "If you can handle this boat in the wind, I'll help you get off of the dock and into a better slip." Linda did her thing -- handling the lines like a champ -- and I used Invictus's powerful engines to power us into a calmer spot in the Marina.



Belhaven is a beautiful, authentic small town. There are more cemeteries than inhabitants. The population hasn't grown in 100 years. The reason is: every time a woman gets pregnant, a man leaves town. If you don't get this, call me.



We drove the Marina's golf cart down a state highway for a couple of miles to the Food Lion. I don't think it was legal, but we didn't die. We provisioned the boat for our third week of the voyage. You know, toilet paper and beer and other essential stuff. Linda's blog on this will probably read differently.



For dinner, we walked into town to eat at "Spoon River" where we had the best dinner of the trip. Off the charts. And they liked us, so they gave us dessert and a bottle of champagne to help a new friend celebrate her birthday with her husband on their Sabre 38. We staggered back to Invictus into a cold night wind and snuggled under the blankets while the waves rocked us to sleep.






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What a Saturday!

It's time to hear from the first mate again...

We've had quite a Saturday! Ron work me up early, but to his credit, he made my coffee. I went for a run before we left Wrightsville Beach. On my run, I saw a beautiful little park and they were having a British car show. I texted Ron and he took Olive for a walk to view the cars.

We pushed off from the marina around 9:00, thinking we would make great time...and then we found ourselves in the middle of a huge standup paddle board race! Apparently, they had closed the course at the start and finish, but we were in the middle and didn't know it. We pulled off to a fuel dock and waited it out. I think they had about 800 paddleboarders.






We arrived at New River around 1:30. We fueled up at the New River Marina because we had been told it was the cheapest fuel in NC. At $1.53 a gallon, my guess is that it may may the cheapest fuel in the US.



I love this place because everyone tells you their story. The young man who tied us off at the fuel dock told me his mother rescues Jack Russell's (there was a sad but interesting story about one rescue dog) and the man who helped us fuel told me all about his career as a highway patrolman and now his "second act" (working the fuel dock and as a chaplain to the highway patrol).

Just around the corner was our marina, Swan Point Marina. OMG this is the most rustic Marina we have been in so far. With the most charming owners so far. We were greeted by two sisters, Tina and Evelyn. And Tina's name is Tina Turner. I'm not making this up. Here is her card. They brought us fresh cinnamon bread at sunset. A touch we haven't had so far.





The highlight for me was my food purchase. As we were cleaning the boat, I spied a small boat coming in with a haul of clams. I scurried over to it and asked if I could buy some. The cute young man told me he only sold to wholesalers...did I want to buy 100? OMG what would I do with 100 clams? Then I realized he was just messing with me. He sold me 25 clams for $8.00.






I steamed them with white wine and garlic. And butter, of course. We had a wonderful meal and wonderful time in New River/Snead's Ferry. I love seeing America from the water!




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St. James, Old Baldy, and Wrightsville Beach

When Linda got back from running on Thursday morning thru the St. James Plantation, she said, "This place is so huge I couldn't find the end of it!" We found out later that the road from the Marina to the highway is 5 miles long and houses are far and wide on both sides. It is a small city.






We departed their small city to motor east in the ICW, past Southport, into the Cape Fear River. Our original plans called for us to go upstream to Wilmington, but we decided to bypass the urban city for the remote island of Bald Head.

When we exited the ICW into the river, we turned right (south) and immediately picked up speed as the ebb tide was running out to sea. At it's peak, this current reached 3.5 knots (4 mph) on Thursday. So before noon, we were entering the channel to the Bald Head Island Marina. The strong cross current died quickly as we entered the Marina. On the south end of the Marina we could see "Old Baldy," North Carolina's oldest lighthouse protecting ships from "The frying pan," 30 miles of sandy shoals extending out into the Atlantic.


We rented bikes to explore the island, comforted by the knowledge that private cars and trucks are not allowed here. All human transportation is by golf cart and bicycle. We rode out to the Eastern tip to see the infamous shoals. On the way back, we stopped at the grocery for provisions. We came back to the Marina to feast on a lunch of soft shell crab and fish tacos.



The Marina was quiet, except for the ferry boat that came from the mainland every 30 minutes. We cooked shrimp on our grill while we watched the comings and goings of the workers and tourists. We went to bed
early knowing that we needed an early start to catch the flood tide in the morning to head up the Cape Fear River toward Wrightsville Beach.



We left Bald Head at 8:00 and I had my fishing rod rigged for trolling as we went North, with the strong current. We eased along at about 8 mph while I was hoping to catch dinner. When we got back up to the point where the ICW enters the river (yesterday's turn) I pulled in the line and discovered that something had eaten my lure. Lures cost almost as much as fish, so I'm questioning the cost/benefit analysis of fishing.

We ran up the river and then took the cut into the ICW running North to Wrightsville Beach. We arrived at the SeaPath Marina at 11:30 and pulled up to a an east/west dock where the Southerly winds pushed us against it. We put out 4 fenders knowing the the southerly wind flow would press us against the dock all afternoon.

The wind was supposed to taper off. It blew, and blew, and blew -- at 20 knots all afternoon. Olive's ears were askew all day.

We walked over the bridge to the beach and then back to Invictus for lunch. Later, we took the marina's courtesy van to West Marine to buy more fishing lures. After cocktails on the boat, we walked back to the beach for a nice meal.

At dinner, we made the observation that we will never look at the Eastern coastline of the U.S. again in the same way. Now we will recognize every bump and curve, knowing what life is like in that place. Isn't that the purpose of a great voyage...to change the way you think about the world you live in.

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Georgetown to North Carolina waters!

Sorry, you are back to hearing from the Captain today. That means lots of talk about impellers, depths and currents. You know, important stuff.

When we woke up on Tuesday morning in Georgetown, the wind had shifted and was blowing the stench of the paper mill right into our hatches. We could barely drink our coffee without "blowing cookies." We left at 7:45 to run on the high tide up the Waccamaw River. It was so deep and wide that the tide didn't really matter. It was a really beautiful run with almost no civilization in sight.



Linda got out her elastic bands and did exercises and then decided that she should practice a little yoga while underway. When we arrived at the Grand Dunes Marina in North Myrtle Beach at midday, it was already hot. The wind was light and the afternoon high hit 86 degrees -- a record for that date in Myrtle Beach. We turned on the air conditioning and enjoyed it.



When we were tying up, the dock mistress said, " Well, we've got a little show going on for you down the dock." Turns out that a couple of "wild and crazy" Bulgarian guys had launched their newly purchased boat the day before and tied it off in this Marina. No one had explained to them that you need to put in the plug, so they tied the boat off and went to search for some American Babes at the local bar.

When we arrived TowBoat US was attempting to get the gunnels above the water so they could start their rescue pumps. There was also a diver helping and the Coast Guard was there in uniforms to file an incident report. The gold-chained Bulgarians were pacing madly about the boat on their cell phones yelling in broken English.

By cocktail hour, the little 19-footer was floating again and it was towed off to a repair shop to have the twin outboard engines flushed and repaired. Even our Chief Morale Officer couldn't cheer the Bulgarians up.

So, Linda and I glided up to the Marina Bar that overlooks the ICW to watch the second show of the day. The quality of the clientele has dropped since Hilton Head. There was some tragic women in search of hairy-legged soul mates. So we made our way down to Ruth's Chris Steak House for a good artery-clogging steak. I mean, we've been eating nothing but fish and vegetables for a week so it was time to splurge.

On Wednesday morning we left Myrtle Beach to find North Carolina. But first we had to make it through the infamous "Rock Piles" of the ICW. At about 10:00 we had made it through this very narrow section with menacing rocks along the edges. I was glad we were doing it at high tide. We didn't meet or pass anyone, which was also a relief.

Just before lunch we passed into North Carolina. Of course we celebrated with a beverage! By 2:00 p.m. We were safe in our berth at the St. James Plantation Marina.



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The First Mate's View

Captain Ron is an awesome blogger...but perhaps it is time to hear about the voyage from the first mate.

We left the Isle of Palms Marina around 8:00 am on Sunday, headed for Georgetown, SC. It was still a bit cold and windy, but we had SUN! The trip was like going down a very narrow river/creek at some times...uber shallow. At one point some big boat was trying to pass us on the left and I was thinking, on what planet is there enough room for you to pass? But Ron handled it all, including a very shallow spot which I am sure he would have talked about a ton if he were blogging about this part of the trip.

We arrived at Harborwalk Marina in Georgetown, SC around 1:30. The dock master, Steve, was fun. He told us that he moved here from Charlotte, NC. He was "a damn Yankee'. He then told us that the difference between a Yankee and a damn Yankee, is that a damn Yankee buys a house here.



This is one of the prettiest towns I have ever seen. It is the third oldest town in South Carolina. The marina is in the heart of the historic district. Everyone is so friendly. This is like the town that time forgot. After our lunch aboard, I took Miss Olive (and me) on a much-needed walk.

If you want to make friends, just walk a small dog. In our 30 minute walk, we met a couple who told us about a Jack Russell that a local shop keeper has named Gulliver. It seems he got his name because he was a rescue that jumped off a boat. How funny that 15 minutes later, I passed a man who works on boats who stopped to pet Olive. "Oh, Jack Russells are great dogs. I was working on a boat one day, and this Russell jumps out of the boat. I couldn't find his owner, so I took him to a guy that owns a store downtown and asked if he wanted to adopt him. He took him, and named him Gulliver. That dog's been there 15 years now." Are you kidding??? This is the definition of a small town. Ron and I closed the loop by meeting Gulliver the following day at his shop.



Georgetown is so lovely, we decided to spend two nights here. That meant we (read I) could sleep in and then have a nice long run. I ran while Ron and Olive walked. It was heaven. Next, we went to buy fresh seafood from the shrimpers who were just a few blocks from our marina. We bought shrimp, flounder, and scallops. OMG how yummy, I enjoy cooking on board, especially with fresh food. The shrimp man was quite a character. I wasn't sure I could pull Ron away from him. I think(know) they were trading inappropriate jokes.



We strolled into town for lunch at Alfresco Bistro, recommended by the shrimp monger. Delish. We shopped, bought some fresh baked goods, took Olive on another walk, and then returned to the boat for cocktails. Ron regaled everyone in the marina with Taps. A really sweet man stopped by the boat and said that it reminded him of his time in the service...I was afraid he was going to blame us for his PTSD, but instead he was thanking Ron for reminding him of a time in his life he had forgotten...



We are having fun and appreciating our daily life. We are off to Myrtle Beach tomorrow. Ron is calling for an early departure based on tides, etc. Things that don't really concern a first mate. I just know when to mix a Bloody Mary.



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Charleston Race Week!

As a sailor, I've been reading about Charleston Race week for a long time. I've always wanted to be there and see the hundreds of boats competing for bragging rights in their respective classes. Boy, did I get my wish.

In the harbor at Hilton Head, we heard boaters talking about how hard it was going to be to get a slip for Invictus in Charleston because of "the Regatta." Since we are on a unpredictable schedule, it's very had to call ahead and make marina reservations more than a day or two in advance. So we have just been altering our plans around the Marina availability and it has been working out great.

When we pulled into St. John's Marina we called ahead to Isle of Palms Marina and they had room for us. We wanted a short trip (18 miles) for Saturday for several reasons. One, Linda wanted to run. Two, we wanted to enjoy the luxurious bath facilities in St. John's Marina. And Three, we wanted to be able to savor the Regatta in Charleston Harbor as we passed nearby.



So we left at 11:15 and took off (wait for it....) INTO THE WIND! Jeez, it was blowing 25 out of the Northeast again. We took a little industrial canal for several miles that ends as you enter the Ashley River with a beautiful view of "The Battery" of old Charleston. As soon as we turned right toward Fort Sumter we saw so many sailboats that it looked like someone had emptied a popcorn bag on the water.



I asked Linda to take the helm so I could shoot some pictures. Dutifully, she did but was clearly uncomfortable. Who could blame her. The strong wind was whipping up the water and there were boats everywhere. Boats that came out to watch the regatta, boats trying to transit the ICW and racing sailboats that were overpowered by the strong winds.



As we got closer to the racing boats a runabout came up to us and asked if we were "spectating" or attempting to transit the ICW. I almost said, "Both" but decided "ICW" was a better answer. They told us that a Coast Guard boat would be farther down to escort us across the race course and that we should stay clear of the racers.



In about a mile or two we were inundated with J-70s and another class of racing boats I didn't recognize. I kept moving right until I was in dangerously shallow waters. The racers were resting between races and were blowing down on us as they adjusted their clothing, urinated and rested. Yes, they were pissing off the stern because that's the only way they can go when they are out all day for racing.

A horn sounded and they all formed up for the start. We followed them to get into deeper water. We kept waiting for our "escort" as we were now at the point where the ICW traverses Charleston Harbor to the east. We called on the radio. We used the hailer. It never happened. So, we just followed the racers up the course...waiting for someone to yell at us at any minute.

As the sailboats rounded the windward racing mark, we continued on toward the narrow opening of the ICW about a mile away. Then we saw a group of large racing boats (40-footers) coming toward us from the inlet near Fort Sumter. I sped up to cross ahead of them. Whew. There was a cruising sailboat behind us that was also trying to transit the ICW. The radio crackled with a warning to them to "Stay out of the way of the racers!" I felt for him but was glad they didn't yell at us.

By the time we got to Isle of Palms Marina the excitement of Charleston Race Week was fading into the history of the trip. We docked so close to the restaurant that we could hear the live music and the conversations of vacationers on the deck by our boat. We walked over to the Morgan Creek Grill and had a delicious meal of stone crab claws and "blackened" Mahi Mahi.



The CMO waited aboard Invictus eating dried dog food. And she was still happy to see us when we returned.




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The shallow zig-zag to Charleston

While most Americans were thinking about income taxes on Friday, we were thinking about the weather. I mean, it keeps getting worse here.

We awoke to 50 degrees and light drizzle in Beaufort. Olive (the CMO) wasn't even too excited to walk to the grass for her daily constitutional. Neither was I.

Some sailor on the dock was saying that he was "staying put today" because of the gale warnings. I came back to the boat and turned on the National Weather Service, thinking I might have missed something. I hadn't. There were "Small Craft Advisories" for the Atlantic (offshore). The forecast did say, however, that it was going to be an ugly day. High temperature of 62, strong northerly winds and cloudy all day.

So our choice was to spend it tied down in Beaufort or spend it motoring toward Charleston. After a conversation with the first mate and the CMO, we all decided to head for Charleston. The deciding factor was a phone call to the St. John's Marina that had room for us on Friday night. This is important because every Marina in Charleston is clogged up by the spring sailing regatta that happens this weekend. The other factor is that the tide schedule is rolling forward -- meaning, the low tide will be 10:30 a.m. today and 11:30 tomorrow -- making each subsequent day harder for the skinny waters we need to navigate during daylight hours.

So, we pulled out of Beaufort at 10 a.m. and headed toward the St. John's Marina 66 miles away in Charleston's back door. It was 52 degrees when we left and the winds were forecasted at 20- 25 knots out of the north (again).



It was so cold that Linda and Olive spent the day down below. Linda claimed to be working on an important consulting project. They did come up for the Dolphin sightings and the Bald Eagle fishing off the port side. But they scampered below when the excitement died down. I watched all the instruments intensely as we clawed our way through the narrow and shallow "cuts" and passages of the ICW between Beaufort and Charleston.

As we motored into the wind (again) the thermometer never broke into the 60s. A few times I saw the anemometer hit 33 knots. Our pretty bow flag with "Invictus" sewn on it went flying into the salty water. We lost a piece of closure hardware on the side curtains, but overall Invictus stood up to the test.

For six hours we zig-zagged toward Charleston. We wore the heaviest clothing we brought and were wishing for more. We only passed 6 boats (in either direction) the whole day. When we finally got to the Marina about 4:00 p.m. the 20-knot crosswinds made docking a real test. The occupants of every boat in the Marina came up on deck in their "foul weather gear" to watch the show. It took us two attempts, but we got Invictus in the slip without damaging her or satisfying the blood-thirsty crowd.

Linda jumped off with the CMO, whose own morale was beset by a lack of urination for six hours. I could relate because I had only left the helm for brief sprints to the head myself.

But, amazingly, the entire crew was smiling after the fabulous chicken dinner that Linda cooked in the warm galley. The arrival martini might have been served before 5:00 p.m. local time, but don't tell the alcohol police.

We watched the news and learned that it was almost 80 in Chattanooga. We are ready for global warming to find its way here.

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Beautiful little Beaufort

Linda and the CMO took a long walk around the Windmill Harbour on Thursday morning. We prepared the boat for a windy passage to Beaufort, based on the weather forecast. We had learned coming up Calibogue Sound that we needed more protection from the spray created by the strong winds. So we started this leg with the side curtains in place. Jeez, when is spring going to arrive down here?

At 11:30 a very friendly older lady locked us out of Windmill Harbour and we turned east in the ICW toward Beaufort. For the first time on the trip we had an escort -- a 98-foot motor yacht. I could relax and follow "Lady Pat" without watching the charts so closely. By the way, her hailing port was Memphis, TN!

After a few miles we entered the Port Royal Sound and the forecast came true. The 25-knot NE winds whipped up an ugly chop, so we decided to follow in the wake of Lady Pat and hope that she would break up the 2-foot swells coming down the sound.

After we turned the corner into the Beaufort River we opened the throttles and passed Lady Pat going into the wind to Beaufort. When we arrived at the Beaufort Municipal Marina we had a very tricky docking -- backing Invictus into the river current with a strong crosswind, into her berth for the night.



Defying the forecast, the sun came out and we enjoyed a stroll around Beaufort with Olive. There was a funeral underway at the Anglican Church and we watched from a distance. It was not hard to imagine that we were there in the 18th Century. The slow tolling of the church bells gave me another reminder of why we are here. I want to make the most of every healthy moment.



In the late afternoon the thermometer hit 68, the so-called high for the day. We sat in a swing on the waterfront watching the Lady Island swing bridge.



The ladies at the Marina store told us that the gnats were the "State Bird" and they offered to sell us some all-natural spray to repel them. We weren't too worried about them in all this wind. We went to dinner at Griffins (with surly waiters) and fell into our V-berth after cranking up the heat for a cool spring night.

Damn, we are having fun.

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And we're off! (To Hilton Head Island)

Early on Wednesday morning, while Linda jogged around Forsyth Park, the Chief Morale Officer (CMO) and I chased squirrels in the Live Oak Trees.
We all walked back to the Carriage House where two of us savored our last long shower for a while.

We drove to the Hinkley Yard and loaded on ice and prepared to our departure for Hilton Head, thirty miles northward in the ICW.

Leaving the dock was a little exciting as there was 1.5 knot current and a 15 knot breeze pushing us as we maneuvered down the side of a gleaming Hinkley 48. We had to stay close to the multi-million-dollar boat because there was shallow water on our other side. I asked Linda to leave the fenders out -- just in case.

Just before 11:00 a.m. We spun the boat up the river toward the Savannah River. The tide was rising which gave me some comfort as we plowed through the skinny waters. At low tide there would be 6 or 8 feet less water in every spot. We crossed a few spots where I don't think we could have made it at low tide.

It was a very windy trip made worse because we were traveling into the wind most of the time. My anemometer was reading 25 to 30 knots most of the way. This caused my first mate and the CMO to seek shelter in the cabin because a few green waves splashed over the windshield.

We passed a huge dredge in the Savannah River, making way for the freighters from the Panama Canal. I couldn't help but think about the economic impact that will bring all the way to Chattanooga (by truck and by rail).

After a choppy fetch up the Calibougi Sound we arrived at the entrance to Windmill Harbour Marina. We called the Harbourmaster for instructions on entering the lock. That's right, I said lock. The Marina is protected from the tidal swings by a tiny version of the locks we use on the Tennessee River all the time. This one measures 17 x 75 feet. Our "drop" was a whopping one inch since we were arriving just after high tide.



Looking back through the Windmill Harbour Lock (outer gate open)

The spectacular Marina opened up in front of us and we glided to our assigned slip. Our bow faced the South Carolina Yacht Club and our stern was 100 feet from the swimming pool and shower facilities. It's going to be pretty hard to top this -- and this is our first stop!

Our Chattanooga friends Mike and Stormy were here for the big Golf Tournament and they drove down for a cocktail on the boat. We loaded into their car for a dinner at a nearby restaurant. We had a great time discussing hometown business and politics as those things start to slip further and further from our daily thoughts.


Linda walks the CMO around the Harbour


Invictus welcomed several visitors who stopped by for a tour