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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