In the middle of the tribe

Sometimes one just has to face the music, throw in the towel, belly up to the bar...and go back on the ICW. We had every intention of jumping down the coast to Charleston, then northern Fl, then southern Fl. Three, maybe four hops and we would celebrate being back where the air is warm and the water clear. (Well, clearer anyway.) Each day, several times a day, we would debate the weather. Each time, it seemed, the forecasts were just a little less encouraging. Mostly they foretold of big rolling seas and sailing for hour upon hour in the ditch. We have done that in Kintala on several occasions. It can take all the fun out of a day. And doing it at night? (At this time of the year most of the jumps down the east coast involve overnight sailing.) We have done that as well and it makes for a very, very long night.

Leaving Bucksport this morning with the full moon still hanging around in the brightening sky

So, instead of overnight runs through clear ocean water it has been day runs through the brown; Wrightsville Beach – Southport – N. Myrtle Beach – Bucksport – Minim Creek. We passed through Lockwoods Folly and the Rock Pile with nary a drama, and have a good plan for slipping over the Mud Flats instead of plowing our way through them. I don't think one can get enough practice at this sailing thing to be perfect at it, but a couple of years of practice sure seems to make it easier.

The moon and the endless trees along the Waccamaw River

Minim Creek is out near the edge of the grid, though there has been a lot of little boat traffic today. Camo colored boats filled with camo dressed people. Given that we heard pretty loud gunfire several times this morning my guess is some kind of hunting season opened around here today. (That, or there was a Wal-Mart somewhere near and the Black Friday crowds are getting serious about their Christmas shopping.)

I have no idea what kind of hunting is done from little boats. In any case I was glad my jacket is bright yellow. Then again, maybe they hunt something big and yellow from little boats? Oh well, we are here safe and sound, and hope to be in Charleston before the weekend is out.

Even though we left Oak Harbor months ago and have traveled nearly 800 nm, it feels like we are - just now - getting back to our tribe of sailboat gypsies. With friends close behind and other friends ahead, it seems like nearly everyone is on the move. The chatter is of where we might meet and places we might go instead of the list of summer boat projects that lay ahead. Some are still working on projects. There are bimini tops and enclosures, mast work and rigging, bits of this and pieces of that still being finished by impatient crews. On Kintala the first thoughts of things that will need addressed next “work season” are already flirting around in the gray. (The Beast has taken to oozing more oil than normal, the list of teak bits that need attention is starting to grow, and the non-skid remains unpainted in spite of the best intentions of last summer.)

But, for now, most thoughts are about where to go, when and how to get there, and the friends that will be met along the way.

It is good to be back with the tribe.

A boat school bus? Maybe it needs a coat of yellow paint.

You see all kinds of boats on the ICW

Better!

Last night’s trip planning for today included a pick-up-the-anchor when the sun comes up and go. That would give us the best play on the tidal currents and keep Kintala’s speed above 5 knots. Those plans went bust the moment I stuck my head out of the companionway and looked out onto a solid wall of white. Mr. Fog didn’t depart until after a few minutes after noon, so neither did Kintala.

Once underway the ICW was much friendlier today, even with the current now on our bow most of the day and holding our speed to less than 5 knots. There was actual sunshine and, for a little while, we could shed the heavier coats without provoking and good case of the shivers. Winyah Bay was flat as a pond but the shores were far enough away that it felt like we were boating once again, not taking a ride at Water World. The Estherville Minim Creek canal was much wider and deeper than the ICW of late as well, all adding up to a much needed “good day”. (Several encouraging emails and comments helped as well. We are clearly not the first sailors to find the ICW an acquired taste – thanks all!)


It was such a good day that we pushed right passed the Minim Creek anchorage while figuring we had plenty of daylight left to reach the S. Santee River. And we did. Fifteen minutes after the hook was set Mr. Fog swept back in. Visibility can be measured in scant feet once again as Kintala is boxed in with solid walls of white.

If you see this you better be where you're going. This fog bank rolled in to zero zero in less than 10 minutes.

I settled into the cockpit to check the weather while Deb cleaned some spilled diesel out of the bilge. (Before dinner I found the leak and performed the ritual of the lying on of wrench.) Just as Weather Bug was telling of a dense fog advisory a solo dolphin snuck up on our port side and sounded just a foot or so behind my back. Wasn’t expecting that and almost tossed my phone into the drink.

Tomorrow looks like a wetter, not so nice day. But we are closing in on Charleston and that feels like progress (not sure why).

If you want a cute little demo of a cable ferry like the one in this pic, you can click here.