Charleston, y'all

They say a good day on the ICW is a day you don't run aground. So far, we've had pretty good days. We bumped bottom a couple of times. And got stuck for about 10 minutes another time. But the bottom was soft, and we were able to unfurl the jib and heel up just enough to power off the shoal. It's stressful navigating "the ditch", especially when you draft 5ft.

Most of the funds for dredging the ICW have dried up, leaving boaters to navigate by braille, or watching the depth sounder, or networking shoaling information on their own.  We use an interactive GIS database called "Active Captain" which has saved our butts many times. It's full of recent accounts of success and misadventure from cruisers like us.  Except we never contribute anything.  Kind of like Amazon product reviews.  Who really has time to do that??  I applaud the people who do.

The Georgia section of the ICW is notoriously shallow and shoaley.  We were warned from Active Captain, and many other sources, to avoid it like the plague.  We'd already seen many boats high and dry, waiting for the tide to come up.  Unless, of course, they ran aground at high tide.  In that case, they were probably waiting for "Sea Tow", or "Tow Boat US" to arrive.  There are a number of vultures, um, I mean, services, waiting to capitalize on the misfortunes of hapless boaters.  We decided to ditch the ditch and bypass the Georgia section of the ICW.

Ouch.  This shoal was not on the chart.  At least the dogs could get out and pee.

The weather looked perfect for an outside crossing.  Clear and calm, 2-4 foot seas with a 10kn wind from behind.  Still not enough wind to sail without the diesel (unless we were okay with creeping along at 3+kn).  If we were going to motor anyway, at least we could do it without worrying about running aground.   Besides, we could make much better time on the outside; no bridges, no twists, no turns.  Just a straight shot to wherever we dared to go...  Cape Fear?  Hatterus? Cod? Elizabeth?  Horn?  As long as the weather cooperated, the coast was ours.  Charleston, SC seemed like a reasonable goal, a modest 161 miles away.  Scott estimated it would take us 26 hours, which would mean sailing through the night, which would mean I would have to take a shift at the helm.  When you are at the helm you are not allowed to sit on the cockpit floor.  I checked the weather again.  And again. And agreed.

Calm seas allow Scott to work on "the book". He could never be this productive on the ICW

Dinner on "the road"

The sun sets.  The seas build.

We divided the night into shifts. I took 9 to 12, and 3 to 6.  Riley stayed up with me for my first shift.
She doesn't like to miss anything, and it was bumpy down below.  "Too bumpy to sleep," she said. Wren did not mind it a bit, and was slumbering away in the v-berth.  

Ri and I sat, mostly in silence, staring at the stars, watching the fingernail moon set. We were sad to see it go.  It left the night dark, and much colder somehow.  The sea was lumpy enough to keep us from getting too comfortable.  My watch chimed every 20 minutes as a reminder to check the radar and the GPS to make sure we were staying on "the line" and there weren't any ships looming on the horizon.  It would also wake me up if I should happen to fall asleep, which was not going to happen.  I was wired.

Moon set.  A 6 second exposure to give you an idea what the boat was doing

The rhumb line to Charleston on the iPad

I was surprisingly relaxed.  Ri and I sipped Lipton cup-o-soup and the time passed. Midnight arrived and Scott took over.  Then I took over. The sun rose. And Scott took over again.  I crashed.  Hard.  And didn't wake up until we were nearing the inlet to Charleston harbor.  I was euphoric!  We all were. We'd covered some serious ground. We were all ready to drop anchor and spend a few days exploring the city. We were also excited to see Scott's folks who were coming down from Myrtle Beach to spend some time with us. They treated us to dinner at Pearlz, a fantastic seafood restaurant and raw bar, and an outing to the aquarium and Ft. Sumter the following day. It was great to see family again.  And it was great to brush up on Civil War history. We all learned/relearned a lot. See Ri's blog to read more about Ft. Sumter.

Reunion!

Oyster dissection

"Hey Wren, isn't that Caranx ruber?" "No, Riley, I believe it's Seriola dumerili" 

Wren's lip will heal in time

The obligatory family-in-the-eagle-nest picture

Sea Monsters-in 4D! (see Ri's blog for details)

Bumpa, pointing out Fort Sumter on the ferry...

where the first shot of the Civil War was fired.

Wren and Ri working on earning their Jr. Ranger badge

C'mon lady, just tell me the answer

Wren learns how cannons work

Success!  

Hoping their government paychecks will be arriving soon

We did a lot of walking the next couple of days, exploring the city.  We splurged on a horse and carriage ride that wound through narrow cobblestone streets, past wisteria wound wrought iron fences, guarding magnificent houses.  Honestly, it was hard to truly appreciate them, knowing that many of the fortunes were made off the sweat and blood of slave labor. 

Time to go 

It was time to go.  We'd burned 3 days in Charleston and we'd made a plan to meet up with Bob and Pat (Scott's folks) at their condo in Myrtle Beach.  It would take about 3 days to get there, and the weather would not permit an outside passage.  So, it was back to the ditch!  At least we'd made it past Georgia. 

Northward!