Georgia!

It was a 24hr sail to get from Charleston, South Carolina to St. Simons Island, Georgia - a trip that would take only 3 hours by car. But getting from point A to B in the fastest and easiest way possible is not in the spirit of adventuring, now is it! It isn't the destination but the journey that matters most - as the saying goes. Time passes differently on the boat; the scenery drifts by slowly yet the hours quickly. We lose focus on the future as the present is so striking. There's infinite opportunity for life experience (some of it good, some of it less good...) I'm not a huge fan of the overnighters at sea, but I can't deny there's a quality to the time spent on the ocean that is absolutely in no way comparable to driving a car on a highway to get somewhere fast, down the road. (But would I take a boat that can do a couple knots better? Yes, yes I would.)

On this particular passage, once we were away from land and on the open sea, the wind was favourable as forecasted with the predicted wave action (it's never a given that reality will match the marine forecast). I'd agreed to the overnight passage; that this weather window was acceptable. But then, facing those rollers, I thought: 'we won't be able to sleep in this' and 'can my stomach hold tight for the journey?' Rough seas don't automatically mean I'll be sick, and calm seas don't mean I won't be. It depends. As they say: the only cure for seasickness is to sit under a tree. So the ticket is prevention and I try to avoid the known seasickness triggers. And... I'm happy to report there was no issue at all, even with the larger seas because the motion just wasn't a disagreeable one to me.

We sailed whole day and much of the night before adding the motor at low RPMs to help when the wind died down. A full moon brightened the sky and even when it clouded over it was still light grey enough to see our surroundings. Complete blackness at sea isn't my cup of tea; an Earl Grey is much preferable. Around midnight we were both up, each with earphones on, Dave listening to a podcast and me to music. I don't know why we'd never done this before! Turning my mind over to music during the 'harder hours' made it so much better! I'll do this every time from now on. 

Sunset at sea.

The welcoming committee upon entering the channel.

When we arrived to Georgia it was...so...hot! And beautiful! We both liked it right away.

St. Simons Island has been named the best place to retire by Money Magazine. While sitting on a bench outside the ice cream shop, we chatted with some real-life retirees who backed up the claim. They love it here. One couple had been vacationing in St. Simons for years and when came the time to retire, they knew it was the place to settle down.

One older man was amazed by the story of our year of adventure. "I read about people like you in magazines!" he said (as any sailing magazine will reveal, there are thousands of people like us doing this, and much greater pursuits by far!) His parting advice to us was: "do it while you're young". As I watched him - so jovial and energetic, with his ice cream in hand matching his pink polo shirt and a little dog under his arm, the golden years don't look too bad either. No one ever said getting old is fun but we're meeting so many older people seeming to thrive. It's inspiring. He also told us where to go for the best 'hot cakes' in town and precisely how to order them. We went and he wasn't wrong!

We anchored off St. Simons in a creek near a park with a dock. From there we could easily bike to town. One evening we picked up a rental car, put the bikes in the trunk and left it all in the park parking lot for a road trip to Savannah the next day. 

The moment you hope the published bridge height is accurate.

Creek near St. Simons, Georgia.

As we were dinghying to the dock in the morning, a man on the only other boat in the creek waved us over. He had no dinghy and wanted a ride to shore. We said 'sure' but were both thinking this could be a bad idea... Our dinghy is 8 feet long (i.e. small) and we had bags on board for our road trip. Dave, unsuccessful in sounding confident, said "the dinghy is rated for three people." "We're gonna find out!" said the man, as he tossed us a big duffel bag that landed with a thud. The large man got onto his boat ladder, swinging over his prosthetic leg for Dave to secure while he set himself in the dinghy. We made it to shore but it was all Peli could take. None of us moved for fear of rocking the boat - holding our uncomfortable poses like yoga. When we arrived to the dock to told us that if he were to go over, he'd "sink like a stone". Glad it didn't come to that.

Savannah is another jewel of a city with much to offer for a fun visit - a great way to kill some time while awaiting our visitors. When Remembrance Day weekend came, we skipped over from the creek near St. Simons Island to a marina in Brunswick, to greet Jan and Maxwell! We met the two of them while cruising in Bahamas five years ago when they were taking time off to live aboard as well. A great bond formed and we've met up somewhere every year since. These crazy kids drove from their current home in Mississippi to come and hang out with us for a few days, since we were only a 7hr drive away! 

Have a great time at The Bee Co. mead tasting. Savannah.

Forsyth Park, Savannah.

Savannah, Georgia.

The good times rolled with our buddies, as we knew they would! The best was hanging out on Jekyll Island, St. Simons Island, and on the boat itself at the marina in Brunswick (so basically 'the best' was all our time spent with them!) The marina offers social hours with free wine and beer for all its guests so we stopped by. We were the youngest there by about twenty years. These cruisers form a tight community. They're free as the wind to come and go as they please. If you ask them their cruising plans, they can't really tell you beyond winter because the plan will change with the tide. It's motivating to see these fun-loving, adventure-seeking, cheap wine-drinking old salts continue to do what they love. Hopefully there's some of that well into the distant future for all of us!

Happy reunion!

Driftwood Beach, Jekyll Island

Mother Nature goes gothic on this beach.
Extra beautiful on this grey, blustery day.

I'm posting this next picture of Jen and Maxwell so that A) you can see how adorable they are and B) it's the only picture I have with motor vessel Wabi Sabi in the background. One afternoon while Dave was doing maintenance in the cockpit and I was napping in the forward cabin, Wabi Sabi went berserk! We don't know the cause of the trouble but he gunned it toward our boat, then in reverse, then peeled out of his slip. Dave ran to fend him off Kianda. Running on deck means something is wrong and the sound awoke me immediately with such a jolt, I knocked my head on the cabin bulkhead with full force; I saw stars. Wabi Sabi ended up hitting our ladder then pulling out an electric cable from the dock he backed into. Accidents happen, control can be lost; we all know this. How you handle the aftermath is important and obviously you have to own up to it. I couldn't believe that the captain left without coming over to talk to us! He just...took off! If we run into him down the road, I'll have to tell him that there was no damage to our boat, in case he's curious. The egg on my temple was tender for 4 days from the hit to the wall though.

Jen & Maxwell sit, while Wabi Sabi lurks...

When Jen and Maxwell left Brunswick, we did too. We moved to another creek where we installed our new satellite communication system (for Cuba!) for the better part of three not-so-fun days. It was cold, the wind blew like stink and we had to work! Once it was done, we were eager to make our way across the Florida border. There were two ways to do this: go through St. Andrew Sound with its huge waves, or take an alternate route through shallow creeks. The tide was rising (7ft tides in this region!) so the creek seemed a viable option until we got into it and decided to abort when we only had a few inches of water under our keel and daylight running against us. It was so windy and we didn't want to get caught here in the dark. We turned away from the creek and toward the ocean of St. Andrew Sound. The waves were monstrous but we knew we only had to 'turn the corner' - we would have to plough into them for a short time, round a buoy, and then we would run with the waves back into sheltered water. Just 'out and back in'. So we went for it.

Stuffing wires into a pole.
Some days you gotta pay so that other days you get to play!

We took on some of the largest waves we've ever experienced. I had the helm the whole time because it's the best place for me in wicked waves. Kianda would climb up the waves and then free fall into the trough. A few times my feet came clear off the cockpit floor as we dropped off the crest of waves. To say we held on tight is an understatement. So much for our freshly washed foul weather gear! We were soaked with salt water spray within seconds. I kept saying "almost there!" It lasted 35 minutes and thankfully no longer. Once in calm water again, I went down below to assess the cabin. I had stored everything away but whatever could get loose did and there were cushions thrown about, an open drawer, a mug that got away and landed in a box, unbroken. Most surprising was that the force of impact into the waves was such that it pulled the wood trim from walls of the head! Nails expelled from the walls! Dave said he's been on a Coast Guard vessel when the waves were so rough the trim came off as well. I didn't realize that was a thing.

This way was too risky as we couldn't find deep enough water.
So we turned to the insanity that was St. Andrew Sound...

Dave in the calm after the waves!

We didn't regret the decision to go for it though; it was a calculated step. When you're prepared for madness it's more easily taken than when surprised. The conditions were the same the next morning so we were happy to have that part over and done with. I fixed the trim and we were no worse for wear. It was smooth sailing the ICW into Florida. Hello Sunshine State!

Lowcountry

Magnolia Plantation, Charleston, SC

A good motivator to keep moving south: temperatures of 13ºC. One morning it was 6ºC! I'll be the first to admit our Canadian resilience to cold was left in Canada - in storage with the rest of our winter stuff, I guess. We've put Kianda's new heating system to use and it has turned out to be our greatest upgrade (second only to the new oven which I'm really lovin'). We won't again own a boat with no heater. Our best evenings onboard have actually been the cool ones when we hunker down and turn the heat on; it makes the cabin feel so wonderful.

In spite of the chill, most of our days in North Carolina have been clear and sunny and we continue to feel very lucky weather-wise. The marine forecast hasn't been good for the ocean passages we were considering however, so we've been trucking along the Intracoastal Waterway rather than waiting around for a weather window to go to sea. Besides, the Carolinas are beautiful and we enjoy the scenery offered by the ICW.

Perhaps less thrilling were the stretches transitioning straight, narrow dredged channels (or land cuts). These sections are where the ICW really lives up to its nickname "the ditch". Many a mile was spent motoring through residential areas in which colossal houses line the channel, each one more extravagant than the last.

Dave: "Smell the air here - it smells so good!"

Being close to an ocean inlet, I knew he meant the fresh salty breeze but I jokingly said:
"That's the rich."

Dave added: "Is that what money smells like?"

Example A

Example B

Why is your house so big??

Nearing the state line into South Carolina, the mansion miles eventually gave way to an abundance of natural landscaping in the form of swampland and salt water marches. The anchoring options in adjacent rivers where plentiful and we spent evenings anchored in some very beautiful places, without any sign of civilization. On nights like these we forget cities even exist.

We had the lovely Schooner Creek, South Carolina to ourselves, or almost... After securing the boat at anchor, we used the last hour of daylight to launch Peli (our Pelican dinghy) and go explore further down river. Almost immediately, movement on the riverbank caught our eye. The tall grass partially blocked our view but we could make out a dark hump of fur. We both thought it was a bear until we saw big pointy ears. A dog? No, couldn't be... And then we heard a loud 'OINK' which left no doubt! We were looking at wild pigs - two big ones chowing down on roots. They were completely engrossed with their dinner. We heard fanatic gnawing, crunchy chewing, snorts of satisfaction exchanged between them (remarkably similar to me eating the ribs at Southern Soul BBQ in Georgia - more on that in a later post). The quietness of our electric engine allowed us to get very close (another favourite boat upgrade); you can't be so sneaky with a gas powered outboard engine.

Entering Schooner Creek, SC

Schooner Creek

See the two furry backs?  (Click for larger view)

We would have loved to stay in Schooner Creek for a full day at rest but we stuck to our plan and pressed on. We had been going pretty steadily, 'making miles' south each day and we were looking forward to a break but, as agreed, not until we reached Charleston. That's where we wanted to stop for a while to recharge our (proverbial) batteries. Our schedule is normally pretty loose but some upcoming commitments will require us to be in specified locations, so that's playing into our decision making. Also, Halloween was 2 days away and we thought Charleston would be a fun place to spend it. We had costumes!

After entering Charleston Harbor, we made our way to the Ashley River to seek a spot to drop the hook. As Skipper Bob says: "Wonderful city to visit, unfortunately isn't near a really good anchorage". We settled on the Ashley River anchorage because it's handy to downtown Charleston and we could land our dinghy at the marina dock (for a fee of $5 per day). We took care to pick a spot on the very edge of the anchorage in attempt to avoid the tangled mess of wrecks that lay on the bottom of the anchorage proper (i.e. take our chances while being cautious about it).

I lowered our anchor, 100 feet of chain and 30 feet of rode from the bow, allowed it to set and we had a look around. We weren't happy with our placement; we 'felt' too close to the snag zone that we pictured below. We're aware of anchors that would not come up from this anchorage (RIP Bruces and Rocnas), caught on debris on the bottom, and how chain had to be cut to set the boats free. Seeing sunken masts protruding from the water isn't reassuring either.

So we decided it would be best to reset our anchor and I hauled up the ground tackle. We circled around, eyeballed a better position and I lowered the whole kit and caboudle again. What's my secret to silky soft hands? Remove dead skin cells by lowering heavy anchor chain hundreds of feet in succession. An electric windlass has been added to the purchase list for future boat upgrades - in case I'm not forever the robust powerhouse I am today.

It can get shitty when birds rest in your rigging like that. 

We love Charleston! We stayed put for a week and it was a real vacation (I know what you're thinking: "vacation from vacation" but anyone who sails knows the difference). This is a very picturesque city with so much to offer visitors. I couldn't walk 20 feet without stopping to admire the houses and gardens and wonder how I can recreate what I see into my future home. It's so beautiful! How do I get a Live Oak with Spanish Moss to grow in my region's hardiness zone? Is cobblestone, prefereably a historic ship's ballast, a viable option for my next driveway?

Dave in Charleston.

Folly Beach, SC at sunset.

Since there is also much to see beyond the city, we rented a car to explore the Lowcountry. Can I just say once more how beautiful it is? The days were warm and sunny, we found amazing places to eat and the scenery was awe inspiring.

One of the highlights of our day trip with the car was strolling the grounds of Magnolia Plantation. The property is extremely pretty. Many pictures were taken. Dave, the biologist, is a fan of swamps and was pleased as punch to see turtles, an alligator, frogs, and a big black, yellow dotted snake. As for me, not so pleased to find myself on a dead-end bridge when Dave pointed it out, folded over itself at the edge of both my entrance and my only exit (I had unknowingly walked within 3 feet of it a moment earlier). "That was a big guy!" Dave said with a smile after it slithered off. Enthusiasm not reciprocated. 

 

Dave observing turtles at Magnolia Plantation.

Spanish moss hanging from the branches.

The dead-end snake bridge I was trapped on.

Botany Bay Beach on Edisto Island was an amazing place to spend the afternoon. I love a beautiful deserted beach and this one is special because of the added visual interest that the washed up Live Oak trees bring. (Are they still called Live Oaks when they're dead?) The massive structures rest in the sand like sculptures, turning the beach into a natural art gallery. This beach takes driftwood to a whole other level! It's stunning.

Me with tree.  Edisto Island.

One more...

Back in Charleston, as we headed to shore from our boat (a five minute ride to the designated dinghy dock), our path was intercepted by a derelict boat dragging so fast in the strong wind it looked like it was motoring backwards! The unmanned sailboat was headed directly for the marina (toward million dollar boats) and we were the only ones around seeing this unfold! We tied Peli to the nearest dock while calling out for anyone to come help. At that point, the derelict boat smashed up against the end of the marina docks, turned broadside and bounced over to meet the bow of a beautiful sailboat tied there. With the wind and waves driving it, the derelict boat did a bump and grind number on the beautiful boat and it wasn't pretty to witness (as can happen with grinding). Dave and I both jumped onboard the derelict boat. Dave searched around, grabbing fenders and lines while I tried to push us off the beautiful sailboat's bow, with all my might, while hearing screeching, thumping and cracking sounds. Then suddenly, it was like I had the strength of 100 men and the boats separated from each other! I quickly realized I didn't become the Incredible Hulk in that moment; our shouts for help had been heard and a crew member from the beautiful sailboat had the quick-wit to get into an inflatable dinghy and use it to nudge the derelict boat off and away from their bow.

In the end, the derelict boat didn't fare well. It was pretty banged up from being repeatedly bashed into the dock. Once it was secured to the end of the dock, I raised the anchor (as I started to wonder why am I always the one doing this?) and we were semi-shocked to find a dinky little chain and anchor. No wonder the boat didn't stay put in the wind and current.

All day I wondered about the reaction the man who lives onboard would have when he returned to find his boat in its new location and condition. Not a nice surprise but, for goodness sake, get some decent gear to hold it in place.

The beautiful sailboat was okay; the metal bow rail and raised anchor on the bowsprit took the impact. The crew member who came to help was not much concerned about damage anyway. He's not the owner so, not his problem.

With only my phone on me, the pics aren't great but you get the idea. 
This is the beauty boat - too big to capture fully in one shot. 

Once we had it secured, the derelict boat (white one) ended up here, like this,
at the end of the dock.  Dave is sitting where we landed our dinghy
& my backpack is where I dropped it when the boats were hitting and we boarded
the white one to fend off the dark one.

Once the show was over, we circled around in the dinghy to take pics.

For Halloween we were sailors! 'How original' you sarcastically say? But here's the morbid twist: we were drowned sailors. Blue lips and fingertips! The pictures turned out less funny and more macabre than I'd imagine. Dave said I shouldn't post them as it might upset my mom to see me dead in a lifeboat (so I'll attach just one of the milder ones for your viewing displeasure). 

The Ashley River anchorage turned out fine for the week. The current was very strong and the boat spun around at every tidal shift. Wake from passing traffic rocked the boat but we were mostly on shore all day anyway and it died off at night. On the morning of departure came the moment of truth: the anchor came up nice and clean! We headed off to sea. From Charleston we sailed offshore to land in St. Simon's Island, Georgia. And we were right on time because company's coming!

Sunset in Folly Beach.

A Chapter for Kianda

Most marinas have a book exchange library with books left behind by boaters for those who come after them to chose from.  When you're cruising, you may have time to read but not so much space to store books so this system works well: take one/leave one. 

While perusing the bookshelves of a marina clubhouse in Georgia, Dave happened across a travel guide for Angola, Africa and thought to check the index under K, just out of curiosity...

And, as he might have suspected, there was a section dedicated to Kianda - Angolan Goddess of the Atlantic!  It read:

(In keeping with historic Kianda customs, we will accept offerings of food and drink left for us on the shoreline.) 

Well Butter my Butt and Call Me a Biscuit! We're in the South!

Arriving in Virginia marked the beginning of our time in «the South» and the signs are only getting more accentuated as we move deeper South. I don't mean the USA's geographical south, but rather the Southern States where there's a very pleasant shift in the way of things. Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia are the ones we'll be visiting. In these parts, the pace of life slows down a few notches and there's just no rush. Dave says with a smile «This is my pace!» The people are welcoming, friendly and well mannered. Momma raised them to mind their 'Ps and Qs' and 'Yes ma'am' and 'No sir'! Southern hospitality and Southern charm, not to mention the Southern home cooking, are well known phrases for a reason.

Here are a few of the top signs that we're in the South:

-Most obvious, along with the Southern drawl, is people saying « Y'all ».

-Tea is either iced tea or sweet tea. If I want a cup of tea, I have to ask for 'hot tea'.

-Gator ribs are on the menu and you will literally get a plate of alligator ribs if you order it (which Dave did).

-A proper breakfast includes grits, something fried, a buttermilk biscuit or Texas toast, maybe hushpuppies, a hot cake, and custard for your fruit. You might gain weight just by reading the menu. I asked a friend from Virginia "How do you eat like this all the time?!" to which she responded "Oh we don't. Only on the weekend!"

-Fried chicken! Southerners are the masters of frying food. My fried fish and grits breakfast was one for the record book. «Y'all ready to order?» to which I say: « Darn tootin!»

-People sitting on their porch is a very common sight. We've actually walked up porch steps to chat with porch-sitters. Conversations between neighbours are sometimes shouted from across the street so that no one has to move from their porch. Note to self: include porch-sitting time in our daily life when we get back.

-Another sure sign we're in the South is when a complete stranger calls us Darlin', Sugar, or Honey. The Canadian grocery store workers do not address me as Sweet Pea as far as I can recall.

When it comes to the nature of things on land and sea, our new daily sightings are:

-Dolphins!

-Pelicans.

-Spanish moss hanging from the trees.

-The majestic Live Oak trees.

-Shrimping boats.

-People crabbing.

-Severe shoaling on the ICW. When a heron stands next to a channel marker with water to its knees, you know it ain't deep!

Beaufort, NC

Once arrived in Beaufort, North Carolina, we anchored on Taylor Creek. Space for anchoring is limited here due to the many mooring balls but we found a spot. There are a number of derelict boats on moorings but I'm not sure what, if anything, the city can do about this. Charleston has the same problem though they're working to clean up their harbour. These boats are real eyesores plus they take up valuable space, but on the other side of the coin, they sometimes are lived on by people who would otherwise be homeless. Oftentimes they end up sinking during storms which causes hazards to navigation and ruins anchoring prospects.

There was rain in the forecast for late afternoon, and it was late afternoon, but we judged that we had the time if we hurried, to dinghy to Carrot Island for a quick exploration of the Rachel Carson Reserve and perhaps see some of the resident wild horses. The map I looked at online showed a line marked "boardwalk" but once we arrived, we could see that the boardwalk is just wherever there are no trees. All is very clean and pristine here - as nature should be. What helps this place remain so natural is the fact that the only access is by boat, so it doesn't see too much traffic.

It was evident that the horses were around: we saw hoof prints in the mud and piles of manure all over the "boardwalk". I guess they weren't expecting company! We even heard a whinny from the bushes but they remained elusive; we couldn't spot them.

We walked along the beautiful beach (on my list of favourite things: a beach with no one on it!) and then we took a shortcut back through a muddy marsh. That's when they came into sight - a group of horses hanging out by the water's edge. They weren't too concerned by our presence as long as we remained at the recommended 'bus-length' distance. They stared at us for a while and then went back to horsing around. Distance-wise, my comfort zone is actually smaller than theirs. As I was hunched behind a bush watching a horse graze, Dave (from much farther back) motioned to me that more were coming my way. The thought of startling them made me the nervous Nellie and I nearly galloped out of there myself.

That night the rain came down in buckets and the wind howled like a freight train. The sounds kept us awake for part of the night, plus in that kind of weather we compulsively feel the need to look out the companionway to keep an eye on things. Are we dragging? And just as importantly, is anyone nearby us dragging? Around 3am Dave went up on deck to check on our anchor and bridle buck naked because, as he says, why get your clothes wet? Quite funny the things that become normal out here. Our boat stayed well put throughout the blow. At times like these we're really happy we bought the oversized anchor and chain!

Beaufort got 77mm of rainfall that night. We awoke to Peli (our Pelican dinghy) nearly swamped to the gunnels and the wind shredded our US courtesy flag. One derelict boat dragged from the mooring field past the markers and ended up in the traffic channel.

The day was sunny and we spent it visiting the sights of Beaufort. Side fact: the wreck of Queen Anne's Revenge lies off Beaufort Inlet. We learned all about it at the museum. If you're nerdy about this like we are, get the details at https://www.qaronline.org/history/shipwreck-discovery

Friends of ours had recommended a pub they liked but when that didn't work out for us, we wound up wandering into a restaurant where I had noticed a sign for "peel and eat shrimp at the bar". Admittedly, once in, we weren't sure we'd stay but then everything just started looking up: the bartender was super friendly, there was good $2 beer on special, the food was great and the music was starting up...

You never really know where you'll find your spot; where the good times lie next but we quickly started realizing that this special place was exactly what we needed that night. Our entertainer for the night was Morris Willis (with his wife by his side at the sound board ensuring everything sounded right and generally keeping Morris in check). Morris, who is is a living legend, was nice enough to come over and share some fascinating stories with us. Once on stage he did the: "we have a couple Canadians here with us tonight..." What's cooler than a shout-out from the band!?

It's hard to put into words but we really felt like we belonged there. Everyone was so great. Safe to say we thoroughly enjoyed their company. I've had tunes from Morris' repertoire stuck in my head ever since that night.

We were there for a good time, not a long time. We picked up our anchor the following morning and continued on in the protection of the ICW to avoid strong winds offshore. We're going to have to get further south quickly if we want to keep up with summer. These days can be chilly on the water - especially in the morning and we're finding ourselves bundling up. But back home the first snowfalls are beginning so, no complaints here! 

Dave on the boardwalk of Carrot Island.

They went thataway!

Dave was getting crabby.

The wall of water coming for us!

Bailing out the dinghy.

Our brand new courtesy flag all ripped up. 

A 93yr old having a dance with his sweetie. 

Morris and I.

You know your table is right on the water when you drop
your knife and hear 'bloop'!  Oops.

Semi-hibernation state due to 6ºC temperature. 

Morning traffic leaving Beaufort.

Night at anchor near Camp Lejeune.