Rest in peace, HMS Bounty

The sailing world lost something of an icon today, with the sinking of the HMS Bounty. Claimed by the sea 90 miles southwest of Hatteras, NC during Hurricane Sandy. Fourteen of the sixteen crew members were rescued by the coast guard shortly after the distress call was sent out, and one of the two missing crew members, Claudene Christian, was found several hours later. The Captain, Robin Walbridge, is still missing. This struck a particular chord with me, since a good friend of mine used to crew the ship, and I had considered doing so myself recently. To the friends and family of Capt. Walbridge, my prayers and thoughts are with you.

Well, THAT was anticlimactic.

     I guess that Savannah was the perfect place to ride out the storm, because all I got here was about 20kt of wind for about two days. Not a single drop of rain. To all of my friends and family up north that are reading this, sorry. I woke up this morning, expecting it to be another windy, overcast day, and, to my surprise, it's beautiful, a light breeze, clear skies and a comfortable temperature.
     Again, I've managed to find a great marina, Savannah Bend Marina, in Thunderbolt, GA. I've been here for two days now, and will be here for another couple days until my final paycheck from the Marines clears. Today, one of the ladies that works here, Mary, let me borrow her car to go run errands out in town. I had forgotten how amazing Goodwill is, I managed to get some new clothes, a strainer, and a new pot to replace the one at the bottom of the river in South Carolina, all for about $17.

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing...

So, I went offshore the other day, just outside of Edisto Island, SC. I only stayed out for a bit, since the seas were pretty rough, and Justus doesn't handle too well in rough water, since she doesn't have a functioning centerboard.

The dolphins keep me company most days.

      I came back in and continued on the ICW for a while. I stopped just north of Beaufort, SC and dropped anchor for the night. In the morning, I took off south again, and my first leg of the day was the Port Royal sound. I found it a bit ironic that I was sailing past Parris Island almost four years to the day after I first set foot on the yellow footprints for boot camp there. I linked up with two other sailboats, EZ Breeze, and Pyewacket, whom I had seen earlier in NC while waiting for a bridge. Usually, I'm the slowest boat on the water, but I managed to keep up with the two of them for the majority of the crossing.

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      We had about 20kts of wind and pretty rough water during the crossing, so we all only had our jibs up, most of the time reefed, and we were still making about seven kt/h. It was pretty fun, until, just as I was about to reach the end of the sound, a huge motor-yacht came speeding past me, very close, and kicked up a huge wake, which, along with the 2-3 foot waves, served to knock me around like a rubber duckie.

       After leaving Port Royal, I continued on the fair waters of the ICW, keeping track of my progress in my chartbook, (I decided not to use GPS yesterday) and was amazed at the progress that I was making. I crossed into Georgia at around 4:30 pm, and had my mind set on making it to Savannah Bend Marina. The ony thing that was between me and my goal was a bascule bridge that opened for the last time at 5:30. About a mile before the bridge, my outboard started giving me problems, spitting and sputtering. I made it to the bridge, with about a minute to spare, and they closed when I was no more than 200 feet away. After cursing the name of the bridge operator, I turned back to head to another marina I had seen.

      I pulled in to the marina, only to see a sign that said "private - no trespassing". Just after seeing the sign, my motor died on me. I had to use the current, which, thank God, was at my stern, to coast in to an open slip. When I got close enough, I realized that at my current angle of approach, I would slam in to the dock. I grabbed my stern-line, and jumped over about four feet of water onto the dock to catch Justus as she slid in. I secured my lines and set my fenders, and then walked up the dock to speak with the man who was on shore, watching this whole debacle. 

      Turns out, the man, Bill, didn't work at the marina, he just lived in the community and was out for a ride in his golf cart. He gave me a ride to the front gate, to speak with the guard about staying for the evening. She made several calls, and eventually, got the "Okay" for me to stay. Bill drove me back to the dock, and then went home, only to return a few minutes later with a bag full of beer and ice. He showed me where the shower and bathroom were, and informed me of an ice machine in the lounge, to which I could help myself. I grabbed every bag I had on board that night, and filled them with ice, about 60lbs. 

      This morning, I woke up early, had breakfast, and went to work on the motor. I cranked and cranked, but she wouldn't turn over. I opened up the carb, nothing wrong there. Pulled the spark plugs, and they were filthy. I spent a few minutes cleaning each one as best I could, and then reinserted them. A few more cranks, and the motor gurgled to life! I adjusted the mixture, played with the choke, and she was running like a top. 

      About half an hour later, after calling to reserve a slip at Savannah Bend Marina, I headed out. Approaching the bridge, I realized that they open on demand, and my VHF was nearly useless since my batteries were almost dead. I managed to get across the information they needed, and they opened up for me. About a mile and a half down the ditch, and I came to the marina. There were two guys out on the dock to help bring me in, and thank God too. The current and wind were both at my back, so, even with the throttle all the way down, I was still going at about 2.4kt. Unfortunately, I wasn't as graceful during this docking as I have been previously. My bow slammed into the dock, and rose up into the air as it recoiled from the shock. I must have gone white. We managed to get Justus tied off, and I went to inspect the bow. Just some scraped paint and a little ding, no big deal. 

     I'll be staying here for about a week while I ride out the approaching storm, and make some preparations for the next leg of the trip.

What do batteries, anchors, and glowsticks have in common?

After my adventure getting in to Charleston, I rested for the evening, and in the morning, went out to a grocery store to restock my galley. After carrying about 30 pounds of canned goods back to the boat, I shoved off and was on my way. I had set my heart on making it to Edisto Island before I stopped. At around 6pm, I realized that I wouldn't make it to Edisto by sundown, and decided to continue on into the night. About three hours later, I was five miles from Edisto Marina, and my batteries were completely dead. I was navigating with a chart and flashlight, and trying my hardest to find the green and red markers along the channel. I reached the turning point to the Marina, and wisely decided to drop anchor for the night rather than continue on. Luckily, the previous owner of my boat thought ahead, and kept several glow-sticks on board, I used these to mimic my now-dead running lights and anchor light. In the morning, I called Edisto Marina, to make sure that they had a spot for me, they did. I studied the chart of the area quickly, and determined that I had a pretty good idea of how to get there. Boy was I wrong! The St. Helena Sound is probably the most poorly marked body of water I've crossed so far on my trip. There were markers where there should be no markers, incorrectly numbered markers, and absolutely no "danger" bouys to designate the numerous shoals in the area. There's no way I could have made this trip blind at night. I arrived at the marina shortly after 1pm, and have been tackling several projects since then. I'm planning on leaving from here to go offshore tomorrow and try to make Hilton Head or further depending on the wind and my speed.

200 miles down...

Well, not quite 200, closer to 194, but who's counting, right? I had some trouble on the 14th when I ran out of gas just shy of Little River, SC. I had been trying to make it to Myrtle Beach that night, so I was running my motor at near full throttle for a few hours. Just before I crossed the state line into South Carolina, I ran out of gas, and the current pushed me towards the shore, landing me firmly on the muddy embankment. I called for a tow, and about 20 minutes later, that wonderful red boat showed up. The captain, Brian, was an incredibly nice guy, and gave me about four gallons of gas for $16, then towed me out. I tried several times to get my motor started, but it just kept failing me. Brian turned around and hooked up to me again, and pulled me to his marina, Cricket Cove, in Little River. I spent the majority of the evening at the restaurant/bar, Snooky's, had a great time there, chatting with the staff and some other customers. The next morning, I went up to the office and explained my situation to the owner, Bill. He told me that he'd cut me a deal on the dockage rate, since that's not where I wanted to end up. I tried to take off in the morning, but the motor failed again. After exhausting my knowledge of 2-stroke outboards, I decided to let it rest for a while and occupy my mind with something else. I restored most of the teak on my deck, and while doing so, was approached by a man whom, at first, I thought was homeless. Turns out, he was the owner of a 42' ketch rig that was a few slips away from me. We talked for a while, and then went over to his boat for a few beers. We spent about three hours discussing sailing, politics, every war since WWII, and the general state of things. He's 68 now, and has been sailing since he was around eight years old, so needless to say, I learned quite a bit from him. We parted ways when I realized that I had not had dinner yet, and wanted to go back up to Snooky's. I went to my boat to grab my wallet, only to discover that I had misplaced it. I searched the entire boat from bow to stern, and couldn't find it anywhere. I went up to the bar to ask if anybody had turned it in, no suck luck. I ordered dinner and a beer, since I know my card info off the top of my head. When I went to pay, I was told that Rich, the manager, had covered my bill. The next morning, I woke at around 7:30, and found Bob outside my boat, holding my wallet! It had slipped out of my pocket on his boat the night prior. I went up to the office to settle my bill and buy some gas, and then headed off south. I made it about 100 meters, when my motor started dying. I brought it back to the marina, and called a technician to come take a look at it. Everett, from Sea Pups, came out to work on it. He rebuilt the carb and fiddled with the fuel pump a bit, but couldn't find anything wrong. We finally determined that I just need to run it with the choke lever about 1/4 the way out. He only charged me for an hour of work, despite spending nearly two on my boat. I stayed one more night, and then headed out this morning. with two full gas tanks and a reserve, I was able to make it about 38 miles to Reserve Yacht Club in Pawley's Creek, SC. I almost had to stop a few hours earlier, due to my batteries coming close to dying, but the sun came out from behind the clouds for a while and gave me just enough charge off my solar panel for the GPS and VHF to continue working. I'm hoping to make a long run to Charleston tomorrow, or at least Isle Of Palms. 

Had some company going through New River, NC

Another victim of NC shoaling (and poor judgement)

Justus felt big, until these two showed up.

First leg's over

I've started my journey down to Florida. I did about 25 miles yesterday, from New Bern to a marina near havelock. Good news, it was free beer night! Bad news, it was $45 to dock there. I set sail at around 9:00 this morning, with about 20kt wind across my beam. All was well until I got seriously rocked by the wake of a Navy vessel and heeles a little too far for my comfort. I righted myself, only to be rocked by another large boat with no concern for the measley sailboat it was passing, and decided that it would be better if I took down my jib for a while to make it a bit easier to handle in the busy waters of the Beaufort area. I made it out past morehead city to ICW marker 12 when my depth finder.decided that it didn't feel like working anymore. Shouldn't be a problem I figured, I'll just follow the markers. No sooner had I finished that thought than I ran aground on a shoal just past marker 13. I tried everything to free myself, but to no avail. I ended up calling the coast gaurd for a tow. They sent out a boat and got me unstuck, after which they told me the price. $643! Good news was, I'm a member of BOATU.S. and they have a tow plan. Bad news is, my tow plan membership only covers $50. So I paid half and told him to bill me the rest. After that I was on my way, but there was no wind! I sat there, stubbornly refusing to bring down my sails and motor, as a 32' Catamaran passed me by, happily motoring along, making gestures to me to see if I was alright. "I'm alright, just stubborn to the point of idiocy some times" I thought as I watched them glide away. Finally, I came to my senses and realized that I'd never make swansboro by sundown if I didn't motor. So I cranked my outboard and was on my way. I did enjoy the company of some passing dolphins and a few Marine Corps CH-53 helicopters. I pulled in to Dudley's Marina in swansboro at around 6:15 and am glad to be able to rest for a while... after I go to the bar :)