Leaving Norfolk

The day we left Portsmouth, an early morning fog in the Elizabeth River had started to lift but the forecast was for patchy fog off and on all day. Other boats who had pulled out before us were reporting that once you got out into the bay, the fog was gone. Having been at dock for three days waiting out 30 knot winds, we were anxious to be moving, so we slipped our lines, turned on our radar and headed downstream towards Hampton Roads, the crossroads between the Elizabeth River and the James River. This is one of the biggest natural harbours in the world and busy (think hwy 400 meets the 401). After about 10 minutes, the fog closed in again and we were hugging the edge of the channel moving from buoy to buoy, hoping to stay well out of the way of any tugs or tankers heading our way. I had the AIS on so we could see what big traffic was moving and we were satisfied that it consisted of only very slow-moving tugs.

Green buoy 25

At one point though, the fog lifted slightly and we glimpsed an Aegis class missile cruiser through the fog on our starboard side. As we ghosted past the ship, an armed soldier walked down to the edge of the pier to keep an eye on us. A minute later, thinking the fog was too heavy, we turned around and slowly passed the cruiser again. This time, the soldier on the dock was joined by four more on the stern of the ship itself. They stood there and silently watched us drift by, their rifles at ready. We were looking at them nervously, they were looking at us and we were all probably thinking of the USS Cole in Yemen. We were likely too close for comfort even though we were in the channel, albeit at the very edge.

It was too coincidental that right at this point, the US Coast Guard came on the VHF radio and announced that there is a 500 yard naval protection zone around all the warships in this area and all vessels must keep their distance: “We will use all available resources to keep you at a distance; arrest, prosecution or defensive measures including the use of deadly force”. Looking at the soldiers with their rifles at the ready, and thinking the message was directed at us, Blair got on the VHF to say we were a Canadian sailboat in the vicinity of a US warship just trying to find our way through the fog. No answer. We laughed later when the announcement was repeated, realizing that it was a general warning about “Warship 87″ (the destroyer USS Mason) which was going to be underway and outbound through Hampton Roads shortly. These announcements were repeated frequently because there were quite a few warships heading out for exercises that day. It surely was not a good feeling to be challenged like that though. We got as far as green buoy #25 when the fog closed in completely. It was just too dense to continue so we throttled back and hovered at the buoy for about an hour along with the research vessel Fay Slover. Suddenly, with a slight breeze, the fog lifted and we could see all the tugs, tankers and every other boat who’d been hovering in place near buoys. It seemed everyone had the same idea – stop beside a known marker and don’t move until the fog lifts (another one of those Nobody Move, Nobody Gets Hurt moments). Happily, at that point, we were all able to head out into the bay and enjoy a beautiful, hot sunny day on the Chesapeake.

Chesapeake crabboat

Now that we’re back into the Chesapeake, the crab pots litter the surface most everywhere we sail. Unlike Maine though, the crab pots are set out in orderly long lines so it’s relatively easy to pick a safe path between them. We haven’t eaten any blue crabs as yet and all our inquiries as to where to buy fresh seafood meets with the disappointing response that we should go to such-and-such a restaurant. This is quite a change for us because on our way down the eastern shore of the bay last fall, the restaurants were scarce and the seafood stores abundant.

Grog Island

We spent our 32nd wedding anniversary up the Dymer River in Rones Bay behind Grog Island. The guidebook description of this island was intriguing; it used to be quite a bit bigger but the winter storms are washing huge sections of it away every year. Pretty soon, it will only be a sand shoal to surprise unwary boaters. The night was dead calm and we were the only boat for miles around as we enjoyed a beautiful sunset and toasted each other. We were both feeling pretty content. After 32 years, the last one in pretty close quarters, we both agreed that together was the best way to have spent it. After all this time, we have two amazing children, enough trust and respect for each other to have sailed 5000 miles south and back in big waters, and best of all, we still laugh at each other’s jokes. What more can you hope for?

The next day we headed north in a flat calm with a slight chill in the air. It’s hard not to compare the different areas that we’ve sailed through but we both agree that as much as we enjoyed the Bahamas with its warm turquoise waters and beautiful beaches, there is definitely something invigorating about sailing up here. We get up early each morning, crisp mornings that mellow into warm days. As we head further north, the landscape changes, the seabirds are plentiful and the trees are fuzzy with buds, coloured that beautiful shade of tender spring green. On calm days like this, the Chesapeake is like a big bathtub; drop a coin on one side and you feel the wake on the other side. As we motored along on the flat waters, periodically we’d get caught up in a side to side rolling but when we’d look around we could see no sign of anyone out there – this wake had come from some distant motorboat long out of Strathspey‘s sight.

Wisteria vine

Next stop was Solomons Island right at the mouth of the Patuxent River. We stopped in here for a few days last fall to explore and most importantly to get Strathspey hauled out and her anodes changed. This time, although we stayed at the same marina, Spring Cove, we had easier things on our mind, not the least of which was dinner with Faith and Chip Ross who we’d met down in Fernandina Beach last month. They have a beautiful century old home that they’ve lovingly and artistically restored; our favourite room was their kitchen/dining room that boasts a wall-sized collection of cookbooks. One of Chip’s hobbies is cooking and he didn’t disappoint us that night, serving up wonderful dishes with a Greek theme; feta and tomato/cucumber salads, Moussaka, Pastitsio, fruit and excellent European cheeses (read stinky here). Faith and Chip were “friends of friends” and we’re glad we looked them up when we landed in Solomons; they were interesting people and wonderful hosts who made our stopover in Solomons Island memorable.

That’s been one of the bonuses of this trip; all the new friends we’ve made over this past year. Some are sailors, some operate those gas-guzzlers (trawlers and motor yachts) and some are just as happy staying on land. I have to say that in most cases, these aren’t cheese and crackers type friends that you meet over drinks. They’re people that we played alongside, explored with, shared meals with and stretched our limits with. Always a chord was struck when we met them; sometimes in response to a joke or funny story or the way they matched our conversation, trading ideas and opinions, or sometimes they just reached out and made us feel at home through the goodness of their heart. They’re the kind of people that keep sending us emails updating us on their location and what they’ve been up to. The kind of people you promise yourself you won’t lose touch with. All of them without exception had a great sense of humour and sharp wit; high praise in our books.

Barge on the bay

On Saturday, we sailed north up the bay towards Annapolis. That day, it seemed that every fisherman in Maryland that owned a boat was trolling the bay. It was a hot, 80°F day and everyone was out taking advantage of the beautiful weather. These fishing boats took more than their fair share of personal space though and we had to keep a close eye out to dodge their fishing lines spread in a two hundred foot arc behind their boat. As well, the waters were busy with tugs pulling huge barges loaded with cargo. Just so we’d know what was coming our way, we set our VHF radio to a dual watch position to monitor channel 16 as well as channel 13 which is used by the tugboats. Eavesdropping, we heard two tugboat captains commiserating on how hard the trip had been that day because of all the fishing boats in their way. At one point in the conversation, one of the captains said, “Standby, I have to blow the danger signal just now”. More than once on our trip up the bay that day, we heard the tugs blast their horn to warn a drowsy fisherman to scoot out of their way. At lunchtime, Strathspey had to move out of the path of a cruise ship headed to Baltimore and taking up more than her fair share of the road. Her captain gave us one blast of his horn to say he was turning to starboard at the red buoy we were just abeam of; a blast that was so loud it made us bolt our food and just about knocked us off our feet. We’re pretty conversant with what each type of horn means but at such close range, to us all it meant was “I’m the boss and listen up!”

J Boats heading home

Turning left into Annapolis, it was a giddy feeling to sail into the “sailing capital of North America”. As we cruised into this harbour, there were at least five separate sailing races going on; Beneteau First One Designs, J22s, J80s, Lasers and Optimists. There were easily 400 boats tacking back and forth with many on a long downwind sail flying their colourful spinnakers. Amidst all this activity, we found our way into the main harbour and snagged a mooring ball, smack dab in the middle of the harbour, just off the main dock where so many times before we’d strolled during the Annapolis boatshow in October. The sun was shining and the pier was full of tourists, babies in carriages, kids on skateboards, people sitting in cafes under umbrellas sipping wine and beer. We had arrived and the weird thing was that because we were in the middle of all this, we felt no great urge to get ashore. After all, being on a boat in Annapolis harbour was what all those people ashore were yearning for. We broke out the libations and relaxed and enjoyed the scenery.

One thing I usually do when we get into any new town is fire up the internet and do a search on what’s happening ashore music-wise. We were beyond happy to discover that Nick Lowe, that icon of new wave music in the 70′s, was playing at the Rams Head Tavern here in Annapolis that very night. Blair called for tickets and they were sold out but were able to give him another number to call, “this guy might have some he wants to sell”. Oh, oh, that usually means inflated scalped prices but in this case, Bruce was happy to sell us his extra tickets for the same price as he paid; he had 8 tickets and was trying to sell 4 of them.

The nice thing about staying in Annapolis harbour is that the water taxi will pick you up at your mooring ball and deposit you just about anywhere for $2/person. But we just weren’t sure if the water taxi would be running late that night when Nick Lowe finished, so Blair pumped up our dinghy which had been rolled up and stored in it’s bag on our coach roof since we left Lake Worth three weeks ago. We’d not needed it because we were either at dock, anchored out in remote areas or depending on the kindness of strangers who were happy to either dinghy to Strathspey to visit or to pick us up and bring us to their boat. Either way, the dinghy got inflated and there were no complaints as we knew this would be a good show. Usually the warm-up act for these shows are local musicians with a goodly amount of talent but we couldn’t believe it when Ron Sexsmith, of Canadian fame, strolled out onto the stage. He was an added bonus and the highlight of the evening was a duet with Ron and Nick when the audience clapped non-stop for Nick’s encore. Excellent music and great venue for sure.

Maryland State House

Sunday, all the long days finally caught up with us and we slept til 9 am, a first for us. When we poked our heads out of the cockpit, we could see we were the only boat left in the mooring field; it was the end of the weekend and a grey and cool day to boot so we think that’s why everyone boogied on out. No matter, we spent the day wandering around Annapolis which is an architects dream destination – all these beautiful old houses and churches. We took ourselves down to the Naval Academy to tour the grounds but alas our driver’s licenses were not enough of a photo ID to get us onto the grounds, being non-Americans. It seems foreigners must present passports so we went back on Monday morning and wandered around this huge area completely enclosed by an eight-foot concrete wall; a little city unto itself.

John Paul Jones, America’s first and most famous naval hero, is buried here at the US Naval Academy in the Naval Academy Chapel. His life story spans more than one continent; he was born in Scotland but was commissioned into the US Continental Navy, at one time he served Catherine the Great of Russia and was buried for about a hundred years in Paris. The French connection is stretched even further now that he is buried beneath the Chapel in a marble sarcophagus that was modeled after Napoleon’s own tomb. The walls of the visitor center pay tribute to all the astronauts that were graduates of the Naval Academy with the centerpiece being Freedom 7, the Mercury space capsule that the first American in space, Alan Shepard, squeezed himself into.

The campus was busy with cadets walking to and from classes in black or khaki uniforms but while wandering around the town of Annapolis, both now and during boatshow season, we’d seen all the cadets in blindingly white uniforms. According to two young female cadets we talked with, anytime you leave the campus, you must be in your formal white uniform. We’ve enjoyed being here in Annapolis, discovering the naval history, being in the center of sailing races and scooping tickets to Nick Lowe. The weather turned soggy and gray with winds on the nose the day after we arrived so we’ve stayed longer than we expected. Tomorrow we push on.

Noah’s Ark

We left South Harbour Village Marina after three nights… three cold cold nights… nights so cold that when we woke up each morning, we put the Espar heater on before anything else. This was North Carolina and anyone who’d booked their golf vacations that week would have been sorely disappointed with this weather. Then, like a light switch, the weather turned. It got hot and sunny and we were in shorts and tees for the rest of the week.

Osprey nest

The north-south water traffic was down but that’s not to say that the waterway wasn’t being used. Every day, we passed small runabouts with people bobbing in the sun and fishing. On the weekend, the shores were full of kids, bundled against the cold but in barefeet and shorts running into the water up to their knees and back out again. The water temperature had dropped to 17°C but that didn’t seem to deter anyone. All the way up the ICW through North Carolina and Virginia, we’ve noticed small signs at the edge of the channel indicating that it was illegal to take shellfish from the area as it was part of a shellfish relay. In a shellfish relay, clams from other more polluted areas are moved to cleaner waters to give them a chance to remove contaminants. The clams are left here for a while (sometimes up to three months), while they filter all the pollutants out using the cleaner waters of the ICW. Looking down at the muddy ICW waters, we wonder at the clams’ other digs if the ICW is considered a cleaner home.

Sunrise on Cape Fear

Because of the tidal schedule, we’ve been leaving dock or anchorages at sunrise most mornings; a cold time for boating but one that ensured we arrived at the shallow, shoaled spots on a rising tide. From the Cape Fear River north, we played tag with two tugs pushing barges loaded with cranes. They were on the same sort of long-day schedules as us and we’d pass them each day, sometimes early morning, sometimes at mid day and then towards the end of the day, long after Strathspey was at anchor, the tugs would plow by at 4 knots and anchor somewhere upstream of us.

ICW wagon train

The number of boats heading upstream with us suddenly increased around Beaufort, North Carolina. It was like an alarm had gone off, signaling that it was time to head north. While most of the traffic last week was trawlers and sport fish boats, north of Beaufort we started seeing many more sailboats. While we waited for the bridges, the sailboats appeared one by one behind us and surprisingly, they’re all making long days like Strathspey. We traveled three days with Sabbatical and Eagles Wings from Sodus Point, New York, anchoring together each night after putting in long 60-mile days. Our last night together, we finally all met aboard Sabbatical and shared our stories. It turns out, we had friends in common as well – Tony and Monica of Kingfisher from Trident Yacht Club (again a pretty small world). The next day, at the fork in the road they went left to the Dismal Swamp and we stayed to the right, following the Virginia Cut north to Norfolk, Virginia.

Forecast

We’d been having good luck with the winds and current pushing us north, especially across the Pamlico and Arbemarle Sounds, larger sounds in North Carolina where opposing winds can make for a bad sail. After the Alligator River though, it seemed like the weather window was closing down on us. Early that morning we quickly crossed the Arbemarle Sound and were able to dodge the rain and high winds and get secured at the Coinjock Marina along with an armada of other tired and wet boats. By late afternoon, the bad weather arrived and that night, the weather forecast for this area flashed a tornado watch for Coinjock and for most of the Virginia coastline. This is a little too other worldly for us; as if high winds and freezing cold weren’t enough to test us, now a tornado loomed on our horizon. After raining all night, the tornado warning was replaced by flash flood warnings. This is record rainfall for Virginia and for us, the first really big rainstorm we’ve had in almost a year so we’re not going to complain.

At dock in Coinjock, the lightning storm was the worst I’d seen in awhile. Our friends Jim and Jeannie of Estelle, on a 400-mile offshore passage from the Abacos to Charleston, said they could see the fireworks from that far south even. Jim had mentioned last fall that in a lightning storm, your boat oven was probably the safest place to keep your electronics. Apparently a stainless steel oven prevents the setup of electrical fields that fry your instruments. So that night, for the first time ever, our computer, our portable GPS and our handheld VHF radio took up residence alongside the roasting pan in Strathspey‘s oven.

In Coinjock, we visited with two trawlers who had braved the Albemarle Sound with us (Jim and Sandy Garrus of Footloose, an American Tug 41 and Jim and Mary Holmgren of Irish Lady, a Uniflite 46). We enjoyed good conversation ranging from American politics, particularly interesting right now, right on down to the tipping of dock staff. The tipping aspect of arriving at dock is always worth comparing with fellow boaters; yes/no, how much, who and when. Jim Garrus had a funny story about pulling into dock once and handing over some nice tips to the two men who helped him in; he found out later that one of the men was a fellow boater (a sailer no less) who had not protested one smidge when offered the tip. We all had a good laugh over that one, especially the fact that it was a sailor.

The Homecoming

We’re out of the ICW now, having busted loose on Monday amid heavy rain and the occasional thunderstorm. We’re in Portsmouth, right at the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. Last night we celebrated both our arrival in the Chesapeake and our leaving the ICW. We went to Fusion 440 in the historic area of Portsmouth, an excellent restaurant with the best fried green tomatoes I’ve ever had. The menu described them lovingly as a ” Biscotti encrusted green tomato tower with a fine herb Boursin cheese mousse, topped with jalapeno spiked grilled sweet corn salsa, and grilled scallion jalapeno aioli”. Definitely worthy of our ditch-the-ditch celebrations!

USS Wisconsin

Portsmouth is on the west side of the mouth of the Chesapeake and Norfolk is on the east. Both cities have historic downtown areas, museums and wonderful walkways along the Elizabeth River; that river that the ICW starts and ends its journey at. On Tuesday, we spent the afternoon at the National Maritime Center, part naval history museum and part USS Wisconsin (an Iowa class battleship with the most beautiful teak decks we’d ever seen). The museum was across the river from Strathspey‘s dock so we traveled there by ferry for just $1 each. In a really odd coincidence, as our ferry left dock around noontime we were neck and neck with our traveling buddies Sabbatical and Eagles Wings who were heading upstream. We waved like mad but at this stage, we’re not sure if they knew who we were or just thought we were silly tourists aboard the ferry waving to a passing sailboat.

Superyacht Skat

On this trip, we’ve gotten used to seeing megayachts but in Portsmouth, there was one that made us stop and actually take photos when we arrived on the Norfolk side of the river. At dock, around the corner from the ferry, we stopped to admire the huge super yacht Skat that was being lovingly cleaned and polished by her crew. Skat is owned by Charles Simonyi, a former Microsoft executive, the fifth ever space tourist and Martha Stewart’s longtime boyfriend. On our way back to the ferry at the end of the day, we passed Skat once again and were in time to see a helicopter landing on its helipad. We stopped in the rain to gawk just a little bit as Charles and Martha stepped out of the helicopter and made their way into the yacht. To be truthful, I got a good look at him but I couldn’t swear that the blond with him was Martha.

While in Portsmouth, we actually went to a movie; definitely not the sort of activity we’re used to while aboard Strathspey. Joining us were Jim and Sandy from Footloose, who had pulled in to dock behind us earlier that day. This was no regular movie theatre though. We went to the Commodore Theatre, a restored 1940′s vintage theatre in the downtown area. It felt like we were at a Vegas show because rather than regular seating, the place was full of cozy little tables with dimly lit lamps and comfortable arm chairs. Once we were seated, we browsed through the menu and after deciding what we wanted, Blair picked up the telephone on our table and called our order in to the kitchen. We’d already eaten dinner but it felt like we were curled up in front of the television at home when the beer and popcorn arrived a few minutes later and we settled in to watch Leatherheads.

The weather in Portsmouth is gray, a little bit rainy and with a strong northeast wind it’s not so great for traveling up the Chesapeake Bay just yet. We passed through here pretty quickly on our way south in the fall so we think we’ll stay here another day to explore this area. It feels good to be here at the beginning of this big bay again and we hope to stop in some areas that we missed last fall. The bugs aren’t out yet and spring in the Chesapeake sure sounds like it might hold some promise.

Yogi Berra said it all. I spend an inordinate amount of time studying our charts. When I’m not looking at the charts, I’m flipping through the Reeds Tide Tables. I take way too much pleasure in calculating when we’ll arrive at various skinny spots and drive Blair crazy with reminders that “at this time of day, we should be hugging the green quarter of the ICW buoy lines”. None of this sort of rumination is necessary when we sail outside the ICW, but when we’re doing the ditch, I can’t help myself.

We stayed two nights at the Charleston Harbour Resort and Marina. It’s an easy place to spend time; close to the Yorktown aircraft carrier museum, a free water taxi ride across the harbour from downtown Charleston and a beautiful resort with golf course, swimming pool and acres and acres of beautifully manicured grounds in which to stretch our legs. Sunday morning though, we left the marina early enough to catch the first opening of the Ben Sawyer Bridge at 9 am to head up the ICW into a stretch of South Carolina we had not seen before. On our way south in the fall, we’d taken advantage of good winds to sail from Cape Fear on the ocean side of things all the way south to Charleston and so had missed most of South Carolina ditch country. This time, the winds were not cooperating and to keep that northward momentum, we opted to motor/sail up the ICW through this section.

Low Tide

The tide ranges, although smaller than in Georgia, still required a measure of caution and we moved cautiously through the ICW just north of Charleston at low tide, trying to make miles yet arrive at the shallow spots at high tide.

South Carolina ICW

It’s pretty unpopulated country on this stretch of the ICW; just miles and miles of empty marsh and tall grasslands, some abandoned rice fields and a gazillion ospreys. This stretch makes us chaff over the sameness of the ICW and for most of the morning, we groused about the constant North winds that require us to stay on the “inside”.

Waccamaw River

The primo spot on the South Carolina section of the ICW is the Waccamaw River. Just when you’ve had enough of that boring sameness, you enter the Waccamaw River. It starts just north of Georgetown and here the ICW ditchiness spreads its wings into a wide open, honest-to-goodness river where we caught a great wind and sailed northwards at 7 knots even on an opposing current. The sun was starting to set when we finally hauled in the sail and headed up the Thoroughfare Creek to anchor; reluctant because we were making wonderful time with beautiful scenery and for the first time all day were not anxiously watching our depth meter for shallow spots.

South Carolina marsh

The next day, we pulled our anchor up at 6:30 am so as to transit both Shalotte Inlet and Lockwoods Folly Inlet close to high tide. There was a mist rising from the Waccamaw River for the first few hours as we ghosted past small towns and marinas on our way north. On both sides of the river the Bald Cypress and Tupelo Gum trees grow out of the swamp without regard to being underwater. We cruised past abandoned rice fields and through private land – strange places with board fences strung across the tributaries that ran into the Waccamaw River. They obviously wanted no innocent trespassers exploring up these little creeks.

Golf over the ICW

We thought we’d seen just about everything but around Myrtle Beach, that Canadian winter golf mecca, we passed under an aerial gondola that moves golfers and their clubs over the ICW from one hole to the next. We’re getting into a more populated area now; one with golf courses, gated communities and upscale marinas.

The ICW in this area is quite shoaled now, especially in the areas that transit the minor inlets leading out to the ocean. The shape and depth of these inlets are in a constant state of flux, moving northward, moving southward. The Army Corps of Engineers, that maintain the ICW, are constantly moving the red and green buoys so as to mark the safe path through the inlets but it’s a tapdance and the steps keep changing. The only way to know what to expect is to consult the various websites setup by cruisers to help other cruisers make their way north. These websites post comments from boats who are ahead of us by a few short days. All comment that the waterway is shallower than when they’d done the trip south last November. The worst area flagged is Lockwoods Folly, a name that conjures up all sorts of mistakes made. We passed through Lockwoods Folly Inlet one hour before high tide and saw 8 feet on our depth sounder. This is an area of 4-5 foot tidal range so we’re glad that we’ve crossed this stretch when we did.

Fenced tributary

The last day on the water before we reached Cape Fear was cold. We had the doghouse up most of the day and were still cold. Taking turns at the wheel, wearing most of our warm clothes and trying to get some warm inside with cups of tea and hot chocolate, we decide to forgo anchoring that night and take a slip at South Harbour Village Marina so we could plug in and have hot showers. At the prospect of steady North winds of 25-30 knots, we stay three nights. This is a nice marina with scrupulously clean bathrooms, helpful and friendly dock hands and an excellent on-site restaurant, so not a hardship.

While Blair posted our position report, I made tracks for the shower and stood in the hottest water I could bear for at least 20 minutes. Once I finished, Blair did the same and reported back to me that he thinks he has used up the last of their hot water; this is a big facility (155 boats) so you get a full measure of how cold we were to have used up all their hot water. That night, we had an excellent meal at Josephs, their on-site restaurant, and when we returned to Strathspey, the Espar heater went on and stayed on for three days.

St James Cemetery

In the face of early morning temperatures of 8°C, we happily stayed at dock, rented a car and drove up the Cape Fear River to Wilmington, a small town with a big history. It was one of the last ports to fall to the Union forces during the Civil War and General Robert E Lee said it all when he wrote “We must have Wilmington, if we are to stay the course of this conflict”. We spent a goodly amount of time in the Cape Fear Museum soaking up some of this southern history and had an excellent lunch at Catch, a new seafood restaurant piloted by an award-winning chef. The historic center of Wilmington was busy that day with a pretty extensive film crew and all their equipment spread from one end of Market Street to the other. They were filming a vampire movie onsite and although we joined a big crowd of rubberneckers, we didn’t recognize any of the grade B actors sure to be in this film.

Azaleas

If we’d arrived here one week earlier, we’d have been in the middle of the 61st Annual North Carolina Azalea Festival, held here in Wilmington every year. Despite the unseasonably cold weather we’ve been getting, it is definitely spring here. Charleston was heady with the scent of honeysuckle last weekend and Wilmington was pretty in pink with almost every lawn sporting at least one azalea bush. Blair and I are in our element here because our rental car has a GPS which talks to us in a well-modulated female voice, indicating where we need to turn and even better, if we take a wrong turn, she simply recalculates a new route for us without scolding us for going off the rails.

Misty morning on Waccamaw River

Yep, we’re on a roll and heading north. We spent less than 24 hours in Lake Worth; just long enough to clear customs, stock up on some non-perishable groceries (those not requiring refrigeration of course) and top up our diesel and water tanks. We made 60-70 mile days, starting early and ending late, with the promise of a new fridge waiting for us down the line.

Following Us

In St Augustine, we caught up with good friends Corning and Tita Townsend on Blessed Spirit, a Passport 47, who had made the Gulf Stream crossing four days earlier. We swapped news over dinner and the next day we both pulled out of St Augustine harbour at 7 am heading to Fernandina Beach. No wind that day and a glassy flat ICW made for a long slow stretch to Fernandina Beach but the time passed quickly as we chatted back and forth with Blessed Spirit. I love their boat name and there was something calming and more than a little bit saintly to hail them, pronouncing it as “Bless Ed Spirit” like we were in church.

That morning, and every morning since, the dew has been heavy. The water temperature in Florida was still around 25 C but the air temperature dropped each night; enough that we needed blankets, a first since December. Overhead, flocks of Canada Geese are heading north to lay their eggs up on Canada’s tundra (or perhaps only going as far as the Toronto Zoo….).

Oysters

We’d ordered our new refrigerator to be sent to Fernandina Beach and in anticipation of much hard work and the necessary power for installing it, we pulled into Fernandina Harbour Marina and secured dockage. It’s an easy place to be based; close to excellent restaurants, an historic downtown area, good laundry and helpful marina staff. Blessed Spirit stayed on dock with us that night and we shared an excellent meal at Restaurant 29 – the same restaurant where I’d had my birthday dinner way back in November.

Brown ICW waters

The next morning we bid farewell to Tita and Corning with hopes to see them again soon. This was after pointing out the “ICW mustache” they’d picked up the previous day. The ICW water is muddy brown and full of tannin which quickly gives white hulled boats distinctive tan bow mustaches. Blessed Spirit had spent a goodly amount of time in St Augustine cleaning their white hull, yet one day later, after a 57 mile trip to Fernandina Beach, their brown mustache had reappeared on their bow.

Refrigeration Expert

Our good friends and fellow sailors, Steve and Sandi of Princess/Hillary had graciously received our new fridge via trusty UPS and dropped it off at Strathspey early the following morning. Steve came with sleeves rolled up, ready to lend his engineering and planning expertise and he and Blair had our new fridge installed and fired up that very day. It was too funny to hear the two of them, both high octane people in their own right, discussing, then discarding and then figuring out new ways to install the fridge. They worked well together and the end result was a fully functioning refrigerator installed in minimal time. Yippee kiyeah I say.

We joined Steve and Sandi and a group of their good friends for an excellent dinner at Pablo’s in downtown Fernandina that night. A bonus for Blair and I was the gracious after-dinner offer of the use of Dick and Tina Devoe’s car to run errands the following day. We hit the West Marine for “boat stuff”, Radio Shack to replace the salt-corroded base station for our Sirius Satellite radio and most importantly the Harris Teeter for groceries to fill our new fridge.

Tracking a Big Squall

We stayed three nights in Fernandina Beach, working on boat projects and waiting for the weather to clear a little for the trek north. The marina staff said 3 pm thunderstorms are common this time of year and we were treated to them a few times. In a fierce storm on Sunday, the thunder rolled and lightning flashed as we nervously edged away from Strathspey’s chain plates. We could see the squalls coming on our radar screen and ended up staying an extra night on dock so as not to be anchored out in this weather.

On our trip through Fernandina Beach last November, we decided that we would always associate this town with fine dining and this time was no exception. As well as eating out for dinner a few times, Steve and Sandi served us up that southern treat, Pulled Pork, slow cooked all day and wonderfully tender and tasty. Surprisingly, over this past year of cruising, despite all the gastronomical raving I’ve done in these posts, Blair and I have actually lost weight. Initially, while heading down the St Lawrence and during our overnight sails, I wasn’t eating much, trying to stave off wooziness brought on by rougher seas than I was used to. But our healthy appearance right now, I’m attributing to constant fresh air and exercise and probably due in large part to a diet of mostly fish, fruit and vegetables.

We finally slipped the dock lines despite overcast skies and headed north into Georgia. Life is looking decidedly much rosier now that we have groceries in the refrigerator. Amazing what life’s small pleasures can be…. We headed north via the ICW because the wind was blowing strong from the Northeast and will stay there much of the week. We can motor north into these winds in the sheltered waters of the ICW but it would be foolhardy to attempt that on the open ocean in the big waves that are sure to be kicked up.

Georgia low tide

Georgia has always been a bit of a bugaboo for cruisers because of all the skinny spots. We think Georgia is beautiful, wild and remote but we’re paying close attention to the tides and currents so we transit the shallow areas at high tide or at least on a rising tide. Georgia has HIGH tides (7 feet worth) which consequently mean she has corresponding LOW tides that in spots cause our depth alarm to sound. In preparation for our trip through Georgia, I’ve flagged five trouble spots where we’ll be doing the “ole soft shoe” through the shallow waters if we hit them close to low tide.

These days, we’re noticing that we’re part of an extremely small group of boats heading north right now. We see one or two sailboats or powerboats on the ICW each day but mostly we are by ourselves. Each night as we anchor, we are usually the only boat and so as a safety precaution I put out an extra anchor light in addition to our masthead light. Granted the weather hasn’t been top shelf but I also think we’re a few weeks ahead of the crowd right now. Interestingly enough, now that we’re headed home, Strathspey has that horse headed towards the barn mentality. That makes us sail/motor long days and often we try to determine the date when we anticipate busting loose of the ICW up in the Chesapeake.

Georgia April 7th

Georgia was cold. As we headed north, we were layering more than one polar fleece plus our foul weather jackets and toques. While anchored in the Frederica River, we put on polar fleece jackets to eat dinner in the cockpit. As the evening progressed, we added thick throws to wrap around our legs and then we figured why fight city hall and we put up our enclosure, aka “the house of dogs”, aka “the doghouse”. Our doghouse is a total cockpit enclosure that basically adds a relatively airtight, warm room above deck. Its see-through thick plastic walls let light in and if it’s a warm but buggy night, we can unzip the plastic to expose mosquito-proof screens. Pretty it ain’t (hence the name doghouse) but it sure is functional. Finally, one day while anchored about 30 miles south of Savannah, Blair said “enough is enough, I’m cold” and he turned on our Espar heater. Brrrrr…..

Pelican at our dock

We’d been moving steadily northward at a good pace, everything falling into place, with tidal currents and skinny spots well accounted for but all it took was for us to plan to be in Charleston two days hence to meet Blessed Spirit for dinner before they flew home to Maine. Foolish sailors who take to the ICW rather than sailing! Even more foolish to try to schedule anything while on a boat! We up-anchored at 7 am and were well in place, sliding through the infamous and shallow Hell Gate on a rising tide. A flooding current was pushing us along at over 7 knots. But we came to an abrupt halt two hours later at the Skidaway Narrows Bridge which was undergoing some maintenance and could not open for us. We dropped anchor and as the day progressed, four other boats dropped anchor behind us. All of us cooled our heels, as all the motorboats puttputted on by, smiling and waving and privately saying amongst themselves “aren’t you glad we don’t have one of those silly tall masts that require the bridges to open”. I had a shower, washed my hair, baked some scones, read a bit, organized a cupboard or two and then five hours later, the bridge tender announced that he’d have an opening in ten minutes and he wanted us through quickly. All five sailboats took off like a herd of turtles, quickly making for the nearest anchorage as it would be low tide shortly.

Blessed Spirit

The next morning we woke up to dense fog. Fog so thick that the cockpit and companionway steps were wet, droplets of water hung on our lifelines and the close shoreline was barely discernible. It definitely seemed that we’d tempted fate to plan further than a day in advance. We sent an email to Blessed Spirit to say we would be into Charleston very late that night and it seemed likely we’d not see them again on this trip. The fog finally lifted at 10 am and that morning’s delay meant we had a better tidal current than expected pushing us along all day at up to 7.5 knots and, even better, there were no tense moments transiting shallow spots. It’s always a juggling act to take advantage of daylight hours, tidal currents and rising tides and I must admit, this delay resulted in our best passage on the ICW to date. We arrived at the Wapoo Creek bridge just south of Charleston with plenty of time to spare before the last pre-rush hour opening at 3:30 (arrivals after 3:30, must wait til 6:30 for the next scheduled bridge opening). Tita and Corning picked us up in their rental car to go to Hanks Seafood in downtown Charleston. The food was excellent, the conversation scintillating and Tita snagged us a parking spot right in front of the restaurant; a pretty nice end to a day that didn’t look terribly promising. Best of all, the weather has warmed up considerably and we have shed our polar fleeces for the time being.

So, we’ve been putting in long days these past few weeks. For folks at Trident Yacht Club, it’s basically like sailing from Trident to Waupoos Island every day. For non-sailors, think about driving from north Toronto to Barrie every day (at 7 mph!). Either way, we’re making tracks northward.