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.