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.