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

Old and comfy

I've often ribbed Tim about the male propensity for very old, ratty undergarments. He says they're not old and ratty,they're soft, comfortable, and they fit just right. I actually don't know any female who hasn't registered her objection to this habit. But maybe, just maybe, I'm admitting I understand the principle, if not the execution.

One of the things we like about cruising is that we get to meet so many new people. Each anchorage, mooring or dock brings the potential for new relationships and some of these have developed into lifelong friendships. But there are some times when nothing will suffice but a good, old, comfy friend. Friday morning saw the arrival of just such a one to the marina where we're staying, our good friend Kacey.

The thing about old, comfy friends is that, no matter how much time has elapsed since the last visit, you fall right into the comfy part: laughing, telling stories, shared food which you already know you both like. It's easy. It's right.

Chatting with Kacey while watching the big ships roll by.

Don't want to break down on the way to town...

We didn't do much over the weekend, just hanging out on the boat with one foray into the historical downtown area of Charleston on a walking tour in lieu of an expensive ferry tour to the fort on the opposite shore. We ambled along old residential streets reading signs about each of the residences. We had lunch in a restaurant converted from a historical warehouse. We strolled through a few cemeteries reading the oldest stones that could still be deciphered. The oldest date of death we found was 1760 something (the last number was chipped off), although there were many more that had faded beyond reading. There were countless stones from men who served in the revolutionary war and the civil war. One family had a small fenced-in area with the stone for each of the parents and one large stone engraved with the dates of their five children, all of whom had preceded them. The youngest died at 5 days and the oldest lived to be 17. It was humbling. We take so much of our lives in this free country for granted and complain about way too much.

The high winds and rainy weather kept us pinned to the dock for the rest of Kacey's visit, so sailing with us will have to wait for another time in the fall. Even so, it was hard to say goodbye and send him on his way back to the workaday world. Tomorrow we pick up the trek northward, and in spite of the fact that it will involve some time on the ICW and a hard push of days, there will be more old, comfy friends at the other end to look forward to.

Old churches and their cemeteries abound in historical Charleston

The office and dock of the pilot boats for the harbor

You can spend a whole day just looking at the entry ways

Believe it or not, this is a garage door.

My granddaughters would want this one.