Month: December 2020

The banks were lined with rocks and beautiful beaches as we road along the river. We arrived into the Old Yacht Basin at Southport Marina a little after 10am and were quickly tied up to the face dock by the marina office as we were only staying one night. A quick in and out…it was a perfect location. Hot and humid was the typical weather forecast these days, but the occasional thunderstorm that unexpectedly pop up was not in the Captain’s (my personal meteorologist) predictions for today, so I hung the rain jackets on the fly bridge to dry out. On July 23rd, the National Hurricane Center pinpointed a tropical wave off the coast of Africa which has been developing into possibly the next hurricane. It was too soon to tell the path the storm would take, so we decided to keep pushing North and, because of this decision, only had a day to explore the area.

Robert and Kay Creech were the Harbor Hosts at Southport and I had sent a text a few days earlier for recommendations during our short stay. Their boat, C-Life, was docked at the marina and Robert told us to stop by the house right up the road on our way to town. Their Victorian home had a prefect waterfront view from the front porch and, as we looked through our welcome package which included a stick painted red on one end and green on the other to keep on the control panel (which I for one appreciated very much) reminding us what side the buoy should be on traveling up the ICW, they told us stories of their life in this quaint historic town. They were full of great information and provided us with helpful maps for our walking tour. Heading down to River Walk, we saw many preserved landmarks that symbolized the city of Southport— one being the Historic Pilot House. Dubbed “Hollywood East,” we were surprised by the fact that 20+ movies and TV shows had filmed on location in the town over the years and, after a quick tasting at the Silver Coast Winery and then picking up 2 lbs of salt water taffy, we walked around to see some of the highlights and enjoy the sweets. We strolled by where I Know What You Did Last Summer and Dawson’s Creek were filmed and made our way to Fishy Fishy Cafe which was the location of the Stowaway Tavern in Revenge. Walking on Bay Street along the Cape Fear River, we stopped by the Waterfront Park and laughed at the fact that the water skiing scene from Weekend at Bernie’s was filmed right here. The Captain was not as intrigued by the Hollywood “East” Walk of Fame as I was, so we made our way back to the docks to have dinner. I had my hopes up for a delicious meal at Provision Company, but we had failed to make a reservation and there was a two hour wait. Idling up to the bar at The Frying Pan to discuss our options, the Captain was in no mood to wait and the bartender talked us into some fried shrimp baskets and ice cold beer. After dinner we were able to catch an amazing sunset on the City Pier before heading back to the boat.

We had a comfortable night with the A/C pumping and didn’t get moving until almost 9:30am the next morning. Cleaning the poop tank was on the Captain’s agenda that morning so I left him to his business and I organized the cabin and planned our day. Out on Cape Fear after leaving the basin, Duane joked that he could let out a line and pull me on the tube reenacting the scene from Weekend at Bernie’s. I voted against that idea and settled in for the ride safely in my First Mate’s chair.

That day was full of excitement. We saw a dredge boat in action grabbing huge amounts of sand with it’s monstrous claw. There were tugs traveling all along the way managing their wide loads. In Snow’s Cut we saw a huge alligator but it was gone before I had my camera ready. A storm was hot on our trail and the Captain throttled up to 14 mph in an effort to get in front of it. We were still going 9 mph in the Black Mud Channel when two dolphins came alongside the boat to ride our wake. This event was always a highlight for Duane and he ran to the bow for a closer look. After going about 66 miles, we dropped anchor at 7pm in Mile Hammock Bay at Camp Lejeune hoping to catch some military maneuvers. A crazy electrical storm started a few hours later producing sensational brilliant flashes in the night sky for about thirty minutes straight. I had never experienced anything like that before and at first thought they were fireworks.

We could hear blasts in the distance and military exercises were beginning on shore by the time we woke up. We weren’t accustomed to the procedures and we set off by 7:15 that morning toward Morehead City. Our first oversight was not checking the conditions at the Onslow Beach Bridge. It is a single pivot swing bridge operated on the US Navy base and will not open if the wind gusts are 30 mph. Luckily the wind meter used by the bridge operator was malfunctioning and, being an exceptionally windy morning, he asked us what wind speed we were recording. The highest we had seen on our meter was 26 mph but we downplayed it somewhat as it was very close to the limit which would have delayed us indefinitely if he had chosen not to open that hour. Not 50 yards passed the bridge we were stopped by a military boat. This was our second oversight for not checking when the live fire exercises begin and end. We were told the ICW was currently closed and we were required to anchor and wait for the military to give us the all clear to proceed. The young cadets did not have much more information and said the exercises may go on until noon —4 hours from now. This was not what we wanted to hear as it was a long travel day to Morehead City and this delay would put us there well after dark fighting a strong current into the dock. Fortunately, the powers that be were in our favor again, and at 9:15 one of the cadets yelled over that we could proceed to the next check point as the exercises were halted until 10 am. Once we pulled anchor we had roughly 40 minutes to get 8 miles out of the firing zone. Fingers crossed, I cranked in the chain as fast as I could and we took off before they changed their minds after realizing how slow we actually travel. Thankfully we passed through without incident or witnessing any bullets whizzing by as we missed the time frame by at least 15 minutes. It was a slow go again with the current against us out on the Bogue Sound and we had Morehead City in our sights around 3:30 with plenty of light left in the day. As we we warned, there was a strong current pulling into the slips at the city dock, but the Captain maneuvered her in perfectly as Lee, the dock master, helped secure the lines much to the disappointment of the crowd waiting for some excitement at our expense. It had started to rain slightly so we grabbed our jackets and walked along the docks. Morehead City is known for its charter fishing and is the sight of the annual Big Rock Blue Marlin Fishing Tournament. Part of the Crystal Coast, the community was loaded with shops, boutiques and eateries serving up the best of the locally caught fresh ocean catch. I dragged Duane into some shops, coerced him into an olive oil tasting and a flight of beer at Tight Line Brewing before we ended the night with a delicious meal at Floyds 1921 on the outside porch. The rest of the evening was quiet as people roamed the waterfront and we enjoyed a glass of wine on the fly bridge. The next morning we went to the local Hardware Store to try and locate a gasket and struck up a conversation with the owner who was originally from Brooklyn, NY. It never ceases to amaze us at the hospitality afforded to us in our travels as he offered to drive us to the next town if we weren’t able to find what we were looking for. Luckily, he had what we needed and we were more than happy to give him the business. All the breakfast places were packed so I had to settle for a muffin and then, with Lee’s help pushing us off the dock, we were on our way across the harbor to the Town Creek Marina.

We had been keeping ourselves abreast of the storm situation and just found out that the tropical disturbance had now organized into Tropical Storm Isaias. And, to make matters worse, one of the projected paths was directly over our current location in Beaufort, NC.

Passing directly through the commercial area, the waterfront was being secured for the worst storm outcome which was predicted to arrive in the next few days. We were tied up on the outside of the face dock the first day at Town Creek, but moved to an inside slip the next morning as the water was getting rougher and we were being relentlessly slammed against the pilings. That first evening we had an early dinner at City Kitchen located at the marina and then had a cocktail at the Tiki Bar overlooking the water. Having an unparalleled waterfront view from our own home, we walked back down the dock and sat up on the fly bridge soaking it all in. On the boat next to us, Nick had just driven down from NJ for a visit and was waiting for his uncle, so we invited him to join us. Once his uncle arrived, we all hung out well into the evening as we were staying put in Town Creek until the storm passed…or that was our intention.

Now a full fledged hurricane with sustained winds of 85 mph or more, it was brought to our attention that, since we were transients, if a mandatory evacuation order was issued and boats were required to be hauled out, we would be forced to leave the marina. I was starting to get nervous but we had a few backup plans and we still had two or three days for things to change as the hurricane was still over the Caribbean. Walking downtown our first full day in Beaufort, the nautical vibe was overflowing in every shop and storefront. An iconic coastal town in love with fishing dating back over 300 hundred years, we set out on my personalized walking tour of the Historic district. Once we walked through the peaceful Old Burying Grounds, one of the oldest cemeteries in North Carolina, and stopped off at the historic Old Methodist Church, our tour would not be complete without a gander at the Hammock House which is said to be haunted . The oldest house in Beaufort dating back to 1700, the Hammock House was the home of the infamous pirate Blackbeard who hailed from the area.

Walking along the waterfront on Front Street we sat for a while at Graydon Paul Park to enjoy the view of Taylor Creek. Once again my tour schedule was slightly daunting for the Captain as it was well passed lunch time, so I let him pick the next stop. Once seated at Mezcalito Grill and Tequila Bar, we ordered nachos and some tacos and his face soon regained its color and he was no longer facing starvation. Hitting the Fishtowne Brew House before the walk back to the marina, we sampled some of the local craft brews. A tiny brewery with a welcoming vibe, we were pleased with our selections and extremely enjoyed the nautical ambiance. The sunset that evening was spectacular and almost blinding as we made our way back to the boat.

We had made our decision to move up South River to a Hurricane Hole, throw out all three anchors we had onboard and pray for the best. A mandatory evacuation order had been issued that morning and the marina had commenced the haul out program for their slip owners. Numerous calls around the area to find a marina which would take us in did not amount to anything and we were reassured by the locals that many had weathered previous hurricanes in the recommended anchorage. Planning to leave the following afternoon toward the river, we borrowed the courtesy car to get storm provisions and brick oven pizza at the Black Sheep. Over lunch we discussed our decision and agreed it was a safe option. We were both nervous and anxious as surviving a hurricane was not something we ever envisioned on the trip…but neither was snow in Kentucky and be battered in 6-8 foot seas and we made it out on the good end of those situations. Chatting with Susan and Robert on La Buono Vita they were explaining all their boat woes as they had been at the marina for a year getting repairs and now the hurricane was heading straight for us. They were being hauled out the next day and we explained our plans to anchor and hunker down and we wished each other luck.

Miraculously, right before we were set to depart the next afternoon, the hurricane weakened after making landfall on North Andros Island in the Bahamas and was downgraded to a tropical storm. We prayed for everyone on Andros as this was a monumental stop on our trip. With the mandatory evacuation order lifted, we were now permitted to stay at the marina. We both let out a sigh of relief as neither of us was ever too keen on being at anchor all alone facing the unknown wrath of mother nature. It was a gorgeous day…as they say, the calm before the storm, and with no where pressing to go any longer, we took the bikes for a leisurely ride down Front Street. Viewing some more of the homes dating back hundreds of years, we turned off at Oceanview Cemetery and ventured into Mill Whistle Brewing. A barn was set up on the grounds called the Oak Room allowing for social distancing and we sat down and had a cold drink on the hot summer day. Once back at the marina, we met up with Robert and Susan and, as they were curious about our trip, we filled them in on our continuing Loop adventure.

It was now August 3rd and the fifth day since we arrived in Beaufort. Tropical Storm Isaias was barreling through Florida and heading for us. The storm eventually strengthened back into a Cat 1 Hurricane, but there was no time to haul boats and, under safe harbor law, there was not enough time for us to safely relocate elsewhere so we were permitted to stay. We had every line we owned securing us to the dock like a spiderweb, the fenders tied on both sides from the bow to the stern and we hoisted Baby Belle onto the bow and secured her down. We removed the bimini top from the fly bridge and took all the cushions and bins into the salon. The marina had positioned a 50 foot boat on either side of us so we felt this was as safe as we were going to be. The upgraded state-of-the-art hardwood docks installed at the marina to dissipate the wave surge was also a comfort. We checked in with Robert and Susan and the couple on the sailboat next to us making sure everyone was set. We all agreed to have the VHF on channel 72 in case something happened and then let out the lines so we were floating in the middle of the slip and waited…and waited.

I was constantly watching the storm move North wreaking havoc on the Carolinas. Winds picked before midnight and maxed out on the meter at 45 mph. The howling sound was deafening and Baby Belle was soon banging uncontrollably against the hatch. Grabbing our head lamps, we radioed Susan and Robert to tell them we were going outside, and went to tighten the lines holding the dinghy down. It was pouring rain so hard we could hardly see and I held on to the side rails as long as I could and then pretty much crawled the rest of the way. Once back inside, I pulled towels out soaking up water from leaks I didn’t even know we had. The fenders were serving no purpose as the wind was so strong they were vertical most of the time and every so often slammed down against the boat before being airborne again. At one point a trawler at anchor broke free and was haplessly motoring around to keep from being pushed onshore. It was definitely going to be a long night for him. Thinking the storm was calming, Duane went up to the fly bridge to view the situation. It was around 2 am now and the rain had stopped. I went up to take a look with him and a gust of wind almost took us both off the boat. The wind had to be close to 70 mph and we retreated back into the cabin as fast as we could and locked the door. A few hours later, we had survived, Bella Donna did not have a scratch on her and we started to put everything back together. Pulling in the lines, we jumped on to the dock and we were happy that everyone else was in good spirits and weathered the night with little to no issues. Unfortunately, the trawler had lost his battle with the surge and ended up in the oyster beds high and dry.

Sadly, we came to find out that Southport Marina where we had been only 8 days earlier was completely destroyed. We prayed that Robert and Kay who had so graciously invited us to their home were OK. The next day we were able to get in touch with them finding out that they were well, but the fate of their boat was unknown.

Duane used part of the afternoon while the bimini top was down to repair the tears in the fabric covering. He also tried to repair the leak on Baby Belle and prayed the patch would hold for the remainder of our trip. Then we headed off downtown with Robert and Susan to have dinner at Mezcalito. I told Duane that if all went well after the storm passed, I had wanted to go see the wild horses on Shakleford Island so we invited Robert and Susan along and all planned to leave the dock at around 9am. They were happy to have company on their first test drive since the repairs and we were happy to have friends to travel with even if it was for one day.

Leaving the marina, we idled by the USS Yorktown aircraft carrier in the Charleston Harbor at Patriots Point. Built during World War II and now a museum, the ship was bustling with activity as tourists toured the iconic 888 foot “Fighting Lady.” It was a quiet and serene ride to Minim Creek where we dropped anchor for the night. The bugs were not as relentless as we had encountered a few days earlier and we saw some dolphin pods along the way to reassure us we weren’t alone. Once the sun was gone, the breeze died down and we opted to leave the generator running on the fly bridge powering the big fans in an effort to keep things cool. Even though the generator was running outside, I went to bed with one of the carbon monoxide detectors beside me just to be safe. At around 12:30am, the generator ran out of gas and come to an abrupt stop and the cabin was soon stifling once again.

Out on the Minim Creek Canal early the next morning, I was scoping out the landscape to catch a glimpse of the many plantations which defined the rich history of the area. Through the trees we could see the Dover Plantation which was built in 1810 and relocated to that location after a flood. An hour later we were tied up at the City Dock in Georgetown with the landmark clock tower as our backdrop.

Georgetown was the third oldest city in South Carolina and known as the King of rice cultivation. It was also the site of the largest pulp and paper maker in the United States, International Paper, which accounted for the awful smell when the wind blew in the wrong direction. With it’s oak lined streets, Antebellum homes and small boutiques, the town oozed southern country charm. We took a stroll along Harbor Walk and stopped for lunch at the River Room right on the waterfront. The rustic nautical decor was welcoming and, as was expected, the seafood fresh off the boat. There were seafaring artifacts all over the town as we passed ship cannons and remnants of sunken vessels from days gone by all along our walk.

One notable attraction was the Kiminski House —a sprawling Antebellum home which was now a historic landmark and museum. Purchasing some homemade chocolate from the local sweets shop, we went to enrich our knowledge about the history of the town at the Maritime Museum. We would have loved to tour the Rice Museum also, but it was closed. Making our way the opposite direction on Harbor Walk, we encountered Buzz’s Roast. Stopping in for a Happy Hour tasting by the Winyah Bay Brewery, we were told it was Wino Wednesday and were given a free bottle of wine with our order to take home. Back on the docks, we walked over to the shrimp boats which had come in earlier that afternoon and purchased 2 lbs of their fresh catch for dinner. We were not able to leave the boat at the city dock overnight, so we boarded Bella Donna, wine and shrimp in hand (and some chocolates), and moved out to the anchorage area. The wine and chocolates helped with the suffering on the hot night.

There was a lot of mud caked on the anchor and chain when I hoisted it the next morning. This was one aspect of my manual labor job that I did not like as Duane helped pour water on the chain as I cranked it in and I hung over the bow pulpit using the boat hook to dislodge the large mass off the anchor. After washing most of the mud off myself once the bow was clean, I took my place on the fly bridge next to the Captain, grabbed my map and investigated what was in store for us on the short ride to Wacca Wache Marina in Murrell’s Inlet. It was a beautiful scenic ride along the Waccamaw River with marshes and creeks branching off the channel in every direction. The Spanish moss and live oaks were a dominant feature of the landscape among the abandoned rice fields off the banks that stretched on forever. Pulling into the marina around noon we were greeted by Tom and Brenda Lahey who were harbor hosts in the area and fellow Loopers aboard Kiss Some Frogs. We had actually seen them traveling ahead of us on many occasions on the app NEBO used by a lot of the boaters to track and communicate with each other. Dropping off the most amazing welcome bag complete with decadent homemade blondies and tickets to Brookgreen Gardens, they went above and beyond being hospitable lending us their car for the day so we were able to go to the gardens and grab provisions in town. We couldn’t thank them enough and didn’t waste a minute once they departed before heading off to see the sights. Built on former rice plantations, Brookgreen Gardens was a wildlife preserve and sculpture exhibit rolled into one. Walking along the trails, each section of the garden had a specific theme expressed in the artifacts which adorned the walkways and fields. It was a hot day and luckily they had a number of indoor exhibits where we could cool off while being cultured so we could continue to explore the 1,600 acres without having heat stroke. Walking the Low Country Trail, we were enlightened to what life on a rice plantation would entail back in the day. It was a strong statement when we came upon the four statues representing the Plantation Owner, Overseer and Enslaved African Male and Female of how each equally shaped the economic structure of the era. Moving on, one of our favorite sculptures depicted Pegasus…and I was also partial to the statue of Diana as well as the Fountain of the Muses.

The sculpture of Raphell set in a reflecting pool hit close to home. Playing basketball as a child for my parish, I would travel to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center in Queens, NY to play for the Police Athletic League. It was here that a young volunteer, Raphell Sims Lakowitz, would spend her time helping patients while studying to become a psychologist. She accomplished much in her compassionate life tragically cut short at the age of 29 from an aneurysm. In 1983, her parents dedicated this very statue symbolizing their daughter’s radiant spirit to Creedmoor in her honor —A statue I unknowingly passed numerous times in the years I played in the Creedmoor gym and participated in the Annual Raphell Sims Lakowitz Memorial Tournament.

After we were sufficiently exhausted and starving, we hopped in the car and headed over to Publix to load up on groceries and bulky items which were hard to transport on the bikes….as well as some of the Captain’s favorite snacks. Too tired to go back out once the groceries were put away, we had dinner at Deck 383 at the marina and then headed off to bed. As the boat was being pumped out by the dock hands, Tom and Brenda stopped by in the morning to wish us well and hear about our day in town. Thanking them profusely, we were soon on our way with the blondies accompanying us on the fly bridge.

We had been communicating with Geoff and Ruth aboard Geru on and off since we last saw them in Mobile, AL. Unfortunately they hit a log and had extensive damage done to their boat and were at Osprey Marina waiting on parts. Only a few miles up the river, we decided to stop for gas and say Hello. We felt terrible for them for the delay and the pandemic wasn’t making things any easier as they were slowly making their trip home to Canada. After about an hour of quickly discussing our adventures over the last few months, we were on our way to Barefoot Marina in North Myrtle Beach.

A few miles passed the Socastee Swing Bridge, a tremendous thunder and lightning storm swept right over us. Counting the time between the claps of thunder and bursts of lightning seemed futile as they seemed to be happening in unison. We could hardly see and the lightning strikes were less than a mile away so we dropped anchor off to the side of the channel and waited it out. Drying off in the cabin, I made us some lunch and we planned our activities in Myrtle Beach over the next day. It was about an hour and a half before things calmed down and we were able to move on. I thought I had an anchor break for the next few days, but that was wishful thinking, and I began cranking her in as quickly as I could. It was about an hour trip to the marina and the rain had subsided and the lightning was far off in the distance when we pulled into our slip and tied up. Another storm was blowing through soon so we ended up walking to the Marina Bar and Grill in our rain gear to grab some dinner. There was a live band and margaritas on the Happy Hour menu so we were content right where we were for the rest of the evening.

Unloading the bikes the next day, we road off to Barefoot Landing with a thunderstorm right on our heals. We ducked into the Dulphin Winery with not a minute to spare as the skies opened up and the downpour began. The wine was made from muscadine grapes and, although sweet wine wasn’t our favorite, we signed up for a tasting to preoccupy our time and wait out the rain storm. This was our last evening in South Carolina and we treated ourselves to an Italian feast at Umberto’s after a few drinks at Bully’s Pub and Grill which we were able to bike around to once the pelting rain subsided. It was pitch dark once we got back on the bikes to ride over the bridge to the marina. Of course my Captain was prepared and had a head lamp ready for each of us—Always safety first.

Right after entering the channel to the ICW once leaving the marina there is a stretch of water known as “The Rockpile.” We heard the four miles of rock ledges submerged at high tide was as daunting as it sounds so we were on high alert. Not only were we leaving at high tide after taking care of some “boat business” in the morning…namely filling the water tanks and walking the docks to meet some fellow Loopers, there was a Trump Boat Parade traveling South that we had to squeeze by. The lineup cruising down the ICW seemed never ending but most slowed as they drove on by so we had no issues staying in the channel clear of the rocks. And just like that, two hours later, we were in North Carolina.

Passing by Monks Island we were greeted by enthusiastic waves from the people having a beach party right outside the RV park. They seemed to not have a care in the world on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. Sandy beaches lined the shore all the way to Lockwoods Folly Inlet and, still having a few more hours of sunlight, we pushed forward eventually dropping anchor in the Pipeline Canal Basin. The man-made basin was an area dredged to catch the run off from Dutchman’s Creek in an effort to control the unpredictable water levels. The scenery looked like a Bob Ross painting with the sandy beaches and the sun setting behind the trees reflecting off the water. It was another hot hot night and this time the generator lasted until 5am right when the local fisherman were heading out to get an early start on the day. We were in no rush as our next port was only 45 minutes away in Southport so we headed back to bed for a few hours. No need for a cranky Captain.

Departing Brunswick we slowly passed by the crane which was being used to help remove the soon to be dismantled Golden Ray cargo ship which had capsized last year filled with over 4,000 brand new cars on the way to Baltimore. Once on the St. Simon Sound, we were able to catch a glimpse of the half submerged ship on the horizon. Of course, Duane was trying to figure out a way to get close enough to salvage some parts….boat or car it didn’t matter to him.

As we discussed what an extremely bad idea that was, our attention was diverted to the onslaught of green headed flies which had suddenly found refuge on our boat. Grabbing the bug zapper, we took turns smacking the flies off the fly bridge. Good thing I played softball in my younger days, as the follow through on the home run swing was key. If not, the stunned monster would return with a vengeance. The Mackay River was surrounded by marshes and the flies were relentless for the first few hours of our day. Once they subsided, we enjoyed the scenery and the birds which had begun to torpedo themselves into the water in an attempt for an afternoon snack. We started to rate their attempts based on entry form and speed of recovery out of the water and of course if their efforts were successful and they emerged with a meal. Though some aborted their mission at the last second, the agility to spot their prey and pinpoint their location was amazing and a true example of the many fascinating creatures that inhabit the earth. It was a relatively relaxing, but long, travel day as we motored around the twists and turns of the Little Mud River onto the North River. We waved a friendly Hello to a shrimp boat, Grave Digger, which passed off our stern while dredging for their pay load. But, other than that, we saw no other boaters all day. We found our perfect anchorage spot in Tom Creek just in time to be treated to a fabulous sunset.

It was another hot hot night and we barely slept finding ourselves sitting in the salon with the battery powered fans most of the night. The two detriments to anchoring in the beautiful creeks and lakes at this time of the year was the heat and the bugs. And, as our generator was not able to run the air conditioning and the windows had to be sealed shut at night, we were pretty uncomfortable on these particular evenings.

Splashing cold water on my face, I got myself together and went outside to hoist the anchor around sunrise. I was much more comfortable pulling the anchor up in the morning than letting it loose at the end of a trip. More than once the crank had gotten away from me and the anchor chain uncontrollably spilled into the water almost ripping free from the bow. Needless to say, the Captain was in agreement with these new arrangements after the last violent mishap when he thought I lost a finger.

It was a few hour trip to Isle of Hope Marina in Savannah. The water was clearer on this stretch of the ICW and all along the way families were enjoying themselves swimming and paddling around. Once we passed Skidaway Narrows, we were close to our destination and were soon tied up at the dock ready to explore the town. We walked the Savannah waterfront and historic district taking in all the sights. The cobblestone streets gave the area an old time feel and we stumbled upon the landmark steps which seemed a little more than dangerous to try and descend. We ended up taking the long way around and decided to go to the Chart House for some appetizers. Duane pretty much ordered one of everything on the Happy Hour menu. Before heading back to the marina to return the courtesy car, we were able to squeeze in a wine tasting at the Georgia Tasting Room and get a wine slushie to go as well as stop by Byrd’s Famous Cookies where Duane piled a box sky high with an assortment of fresh baked cookies. Back at the marina by early evening, we took the bikes around the area and then sat on the dock and enjoyed the rest of the night.

We were able to borrow the car the next morning so we headed off to Tybee Island and walked to City Pier. The beach was a welcome sight and I wished I had my bathing suit with me so I could take a refreshing dip. The car was not signed out for the next few hours so we headed over to the Crab Shack for lunch. Alligators were the main attraction here and I was able to feed a few babies…at a respectable distance away. The feel of the place was more like the backwoods meets swamp land, but the food was delicious.

One last stop before heading back….the lighthouse. The recurring main attraction throughout our journey, we felt compelled to visit whenever there was a lighthouse at a reasonable distance from where we were staying. Surrounded by palm trees, but closed due to Covid, we were able to get close enough to get a selfie.

We decided to take an Uber back to the waterfront to spend our last evening in town. First stopping at Moon River Brewing Co., I was torn between the selection so I ordered a flight of 10 samples. Duane settled on his go to wheat beer. After, we explored a few shops, returned for another tasting at the Georgia Tasting Room and a to go slushie of course, walked along the water to see the Queen Mary and went to listen to music at a local bar in the courtyard. While we were waiting to call the Uber back to the marina, we ordered a pizza to eat on the bench by the square and struck a conversation up with a couple from the area who ended up driving us home when the Uber was a no show. Southern hospitality at its finest once more.

Savannah was our last stop in Georgia and definitely a highlight despite being hindered somewhat by the virus. After showering in the morning, we left the dock, passed some barges, and were soon through the Elba Island Cut and at mile 575.5 crossed into South Carolina. Idling by Hilton Head Island we caught a glimpse of how the other half lived as we passed one yacht after another and all their fancy toys. The tenders of some were bigger than our boat and Duane joked about hooking a line to one yacht and catching a ride. Crossing the Port Royal Sound onto the Beaufort River, we anchored outside the Downtown Marina in Beaufort, SC. Lowering Baby Belle into the water, I grabbed the foot pump to fill up one of the tubes since the patch had come loose and there was a slow leak. Once the gear was aboard, we cruised to the dinghy dock and tied up. Beaufort was a quaint little town with historic homes along the waterfront and little shops along the main street. Henry C Chambers Waterfront Park was a scenic stretch and strolling back along Bay Street we noticed some beautifully preserved old homes. Hemingway’s was the first place that caught our eye, so we walked in to ask for a dinner recommendation. The bar was dark mahogany wood with memorabilia and photos adorning the walls and the bartender explained how many places were closing early due to the pandemic. Pouring us a glass of wine, he gave us a few options to consider. We decided on the closest restaurant to the bar and ended up having a delicious BBQ dinner at Q on the Water. It was getting late….9pm is Looper midnight they say…and we were pulling anchor at sunrise so we made our way back to the dinghy. It was another sleepless and hot night and I dreamed of being at the marina with the air conditioner pumping in Charleston in two days.

Ready to move on, we left the anchorage at day break and were praying for some wind. I had the battery powered fan around my neck most of the day now as we traveled. Crossing under the Lady Island Bridge, we took turns driving and trying to cool off. Neither of us wanted to retrieve any food off the hot engine as of late, so lunches consisted mostly of pasta salads and tuna sandwiches. The Ashepoo River had a terrible current and at times I felt as if we were standing still. Pushing through to Watt’s Cut, we finally gained our speed back (which is a lot for me to say at 7 mph) and watched the depth as it was registering 4 feet in some sections. The landscape was breathtaking and around 5:30 we dropped anchor off the Stono River next to a sand bar. Traffic passing through the channel rocked us for a few hours and we sat on the bow watching the sun sink below the horizon. By 9pm all was quiet and I was plotting out the course and schedule for tomorrow as usual and the Captain was deciding on what to watch on Netflix. It was rare we had good service and could enjoy the normalcy of watching a movie. It was a hot, but bearable night, and we both slept soundly.

It was a short travel day to Charleston and we planned to stay at least two days to explore. I awoke to a spectacular sunrise through the port side window and ran out to capture the colors on my camera. However, the picture rarely captures the complete beauty of what you see…fortunately memories last forever. Crawling back in bed, I lay silent thinking for the next hour of the amazing journey we have had and excited for what was to come. The Captain had researched the tides and current and wanted to leave at the optimum time to get a big push. And he was spot on…Once we were underway the current of the Elliott Cut propelled us to 10.3 mph at only 1300 RPM running on one engine. I was smiles from ear to ear.

The Charleston Maritime Center was a small marina next to the Aquarium and Liberty Square. Besides the tour boat which left from the marina twice a day, there was only one other transient boater tied up at the docks. Jeff, the dock master, came outside to give us some pertinent information and explained how the bathrooms were closed due to Covid, but I could use the laundry facility as long as I scheduled a time. He was most apologetic, but we knew it was not his fault.

We were soon on our way to town which was not a far walk from the marina and one of the reasons we choose to stay there. I had a list of sights to see and things to do while there for the next 50 hours, so we began to work through them one by one. Today’s lunch was fresh tuna tacos at Avon Street Fish and Raw Bar -an absolutely perfect and delicious choice. The temperature was starting to creep up as we walked around taking in the sights after lunch and we stopped by Blossom for a frozen bellini giving us a perfect chance to cool off. Out on the pavement again, we made our way over to the famous Rainbow Row for a photo op and then to Joe Riley Waterfront Park. The pastel colored historic homes which comprised Rainbow Row on East Bay Street were a definite tourist attraction as we patiently waited our turn as bachelorette parties and families were snapping shots to capture the moment. The pineapple fountain was a stand out on the waterfront, but was equally as difficult to get a picture of up close as a mother had stripped her kids down to their underwear and they were splashing in the fountain cooling off.

The Charleston City Market was set up in the middle of town selling a variety of handmade goods from local artists and craftsmen. Horse drawn carriages were carrying tourists about to the various attractions in the city on this extremely hot day. We ducked into the air conditioned Info Center under the guise of grabbing a few pamphlets and were pleasantly greeted by a woman behind the desk who drew us in with one statement…free stuff! After about thirty minutes we had signed up for a presentation the next morning once we were promised it was nothing like a time share gimmick and offered three free gifts for our time. Choosing a tour of Fort Sumter, a Haunted Jailhouse experience and a $75 dinner voucher we were intrigued by what the company called Travel Inspirations was all about.

The next stop on the self-guided tour was the O-Bar Oyster House where we indulged in a few appetizers and $1 oysters. The fresh oysters packed in ice were being carted in every few minutes and shucked by the bushel before our eyes. It had been a long day so far and, with only one more destination on today’s agenda, we ascended up to the Vendue Rooftop for a cocktail and to enjoy the view of the timeless city. We heard that Charleston was referred to as “the living museum” as the historic homes and buildings were inhabited by everyday people living and working amongst the grand architecture and vibrant culture beautifully preserved over hundreds of years.

Our appointment was at 11am so we slept in for the first time in a long while before showering and heading off to see the presentation. The gentleman giving the talk on behalf of Travel Inspirations was terrific and thoroughly entertaining, but not knowing our living/travel situation prior, could not have known their travel club would not suit us. Living on the boat, we were basically a moving hotel to any vacation location of our choosing so a service offering hotel and transportation discounts was not what we were looking for. True to their word, we thanked him for his time and were handed an envelope with our gifts.

Today’s lunch at Pearlz Oyster Bar rivaled yesterday’s delicious meal as we soon were realizing we couldn’t go wrong with any of our dining choices in town. I booked us for our two tours as we relished every bite of the fresh clams, oysters and shrimp. Walking over to Liberty Square, we explored the Fort Sumter museum before boarding the ferry which took us over to the island to walk the grounds of the fort. The rich history of the location was depicted throughout the museum and the stories of war and struggle told by the guides as we made our way across the harbor captivated us more than any history class we remembered. We walked through the barracks, up to the cannons lining the wall and around the crumpled stone and bricks which once fortified the grounds of the sea fort which was the site of the beginning of the American Civil War. We talked nonstop all the way back about all we did not know (or may have forgotten) about the Civil War and what that meant to our freedom today.

We had dinner reservations at Hank’s Seafood that evening. The restaurant, which resembled a Charleston Fish House, was number one on everyone’s recommendations so we were anxious to see how it was going to top the culinary experience we have had thus far. Duane also made the declaration that this was going to be my official birthday dinner and his treat (with the help of the $75 voucher, but I’ll take it). Needless to say, the food was out of this world. The pan seared sea scallops were so tender and melted in your mouth. But, the Seafood A La Wando won hands down. The savory flavor of the seafood medley coupled with the cream sauce was like nothing my taste buds had ever experienced. Half way between a food coma and a euphoric high, we strolled off to the haunted jailhouse tour –gift number three.

The temperature that night was still in the 80s and add that to the creepy building with no ventilation we were about to enter, I was skeptical of our gift choice. The stories of torture inflicted and experiments that were conducted within these walls was unimaginable. I had the feeling of being watched the whole time and almost freaked out when Duane jokingly (or so I thought) tried to lock me in one of the rooms alone. I had just about enough toward the end of the tour when a wheel chair appeared out of nowhere and we heard a scream. I did not know if I was sweating from the heat or fear, but I was looking for the exit. I know it was probably all staged, but I did not want to find out first hand if there really were supernatural beings at work. Breathing a sigh of relief once we were out under the night sky, I needed a glass of wine to calm my nerves.

I spent our last morning cleaning and doing laundry as Duane continued to work on fixing the salon air conditioner as we had been living off the cooling power of only the air conditioner in the V-berth. I thought the one air conditioner was just fine, but he needed to fix what was broken or he wouldn’t be happy. Unstrapping the bikes from the bow and rinsing them off, a cemetery tour was first on our agenda. Plotting our way through town, we explored the historic tombstones and monuments of the Magnolia and St. Lawrence cemeteries. Parts of the cemetery looked like no one had been there for many years as the brush and vines had overtaken the area and then other sections were meticulously groomed with fresh flowers blooming. It was a very dry day and the dust kicked up as we biked around the paths stumbling upon a fresh grave with the funeral arrangements surrounding the area like a security blanket. Realizing it was the grave of a young girl, we stopped and said a prayer and picked up some of the arrangements that had fallen over.

It was a few mile ride back to the boat, and the Captain’s belly was grumbling so we pulled in to Home Town BBQ for tater tots and wings and then peddled back and locked our bikes up outside the Charleston Beer Works Brewery so we could relax for a while. The rest of the day we leisurely biked around retracing some of our steps from the last three days and saw a few new ones —namely the American Theater on King Street which was featured in one of my favorite movies, The Notebook. We had only had a few snacks all day, so we decided on OKU Sushi for dinner. We always order way too many rolls and, as usual, I was struggling to finish realizing we still had to bike back to the marina. Heading over to Henry’s Rooftop after the meal to digest a little, this would be our last stop in historic Charleston. We grabbed a cocktail and reminisced about all we had managed to see and experience the last few days as the band played in the background. Charleston definitely ranked as one of my top 5 locations in the U.S. we have had the privilege to visit on the trip.

Back at the marina before it got too late, we loaded the bikes on to the boat and prepared for the travel day ahead. It should be about an 8 to 9 hour trip to our next destination and anchorage on Minim Creek….I only prayed for a breeze and no mosquitoes.

It was a hot, humid and overcast travel day heading toward Brunswick Landing Marina and, on top of that, the bugs were sticking to almost everything on the fly bridge, including my sunglasses which was making it extremely difficult to navigate. Thank God it was less than a two hour trip to our temporary home port for the next few weeks. After pulling up to the gas dock, I hardly waited for the stern line to be secured before I jumped off the boat and headed into the air conditioned bug-free marina office. The day took a positive turn when the dock master told us that the county had just sprayed to calm the relentless mosquitoes that had infested the area over the last week, we were given a slip assignment docked right next to Siesta and the beer keg was chilled and waiting for our arrival. Rob and Rhonda were visiting family and would not be arriving back to the marina for a few days, so we settled in and walked up to the boater’s lounge. Filling up a glass with an ice cold PBR, I headed off to the shower laughing about how I thought the last time I would ever be voluntarily indulging in a PBR was under quarantine in the Bahamas. It definitely wasn’t the first time something in 2020 shocked me and, the way things were shaping up, it surely would not be the last.

Another perk at the marina that almost topped the free beer, was the free laundry facility. And as I always said, I never missed the opportunity to have clean sheets and towels especially when I do not have to scrape together a mound of quarters to take care of a few extra loads. On this occasion I even threw in a set of curtains as an added bonus to freshen up the salon.

Taking a walk through the streets of downtown Brunswick there was a wide variety of storefronts ranging from a distillery, a brick oven pizza joint, and a pool hall to an upscale eatery (with a hidden speakeasy), a sushi restaurant and a brewery opening in a week. We wandered into the distillery to take a peak, but were left standing awkwardly at a barrel 6 feet from other patrons with our masks on listening to a speech about the establishment not allowed any samples compliments of the pandemic. Emerging out onto the street, we grabbed an outside table at Tipsy McSway’s for lunch. It was a pleasant reprieve to be breathing in the fresh air, enjoying a cold drink and some tasty chicken nachos, while watching people taking advantage of such a beautiful day. Back at the marina we introduced ourselves to Glynn and Beverly who just arrived aboard Nauti Leana. As Duane and Glynn were discussing their grand projects for our respective boats during the time we all would be idling in Brunswick, I was given a tour of their abode by Beverly. They were a lovely and energetic couple and, after a few hours, we invited them over to our boat to reciprocate the hospitality. Deciding on a change of scenery, we walked up to the boater’s lounge to investigate the happenings at happy hour around the keg. To our dismay and shock, the lounge was closed ( so no access to the keg) and a makeshift sign was affixed to the door stating that a boater residing on one of the docks had tested positive for the virus so the public area was closed for at least two weeks. We heard rumors over the next few days that the boater never even used the facilities. Regardless of that fact, the lounge never reopened the whole rest of our stay. Dejected, we walked back our boats and I seasoned up a rotisserie chicken and threw it into the instant pot. The evening ended on an upswing as the experimental meal was absolutely delicious so we drowned our sorrows in the delectable poultry…and of course some rum.

The next morning we hightailed over to the Farmer’s Market in the Town Square purchasing an assortment of cookies, homemade peanut butter, fresh fruit and tomatoes, and deviled crabs. Bev and Glynn joined us for lunch at Tipsy McSway’s and Glynn filled us in on his interesting evening at the hidden speakeasy behind the upscale restaurant, Reid’s Apothecary. Named “The Study,” patrons were required to call after a certain time and obtain the password for entry for that evening. Intrigued, we made plans to venture over after dinner. The password was more like a phrase and it took all four of us to remember the exact words once we made the phone call and the mysterious voice rattled off the sentence and quickly hung up. Walking down a dark alleyway, we knocked on the lone door off to the end of the path and a dark figure slid open a small window and requested the password for entry. Spitting out what we had collaboratively remembered, the window slammed shut. Startled for a moment thinking that this was the last we would see of the gentleman behind the door, I turned to Duane about to suggest going to another bar when we heard the lock click and the door flung open. The bar was very eclectic and the decor an abundance of red velour and gold fixtures. There was a one man band playing jazz in the corner and we settled in on the plush couches off to the side with a perfect view of all the action. Feeling very much in the moment, Glynn ordered a whisky on the rocks and the rest of us each ordered an Old Fashioned. We would definitely have to bring Rob and Rhonda here when they returned in two days.

The Saharan Dust had been getting significantly thicker the last two days. The cloud was hanging low, and though it resulted in spectacular sunsets, the dust, combined with the intense heat and humidity, made it relatively unbearable to sit outside for long periods of time. There was not much going on in town and we had experienced all the significant hot spots over the last few days. Couple that with the intense heat, we were discussing going home for a 4th of July visit. The end of the trip was creeping up and we thought it would be nice to get the house in order for our return and also get some weight off the boat for the remainder of our travels. Duane was still left with a bad taste in his mouth over the abrupt closure of the lounge and the end to all social activities at the marina, so Covid was definitely putting a damper on things as of late.

The following night we had a pot luck BBQ on the dock with Bev and Glynn. Rob and Rhonda arrived back from visiting family in Indiana just in time for dessert. We had rented a car and were going to depart for home in three days so it would give us a chance to catch up. The next day was full of activity. Alan, Kim and Mia arrived at the marina early and we chilled for a bit and had drinks and appetizers before heading to Indigo Shanty for an early dinner. It was one of the best Mexican meals I have had in a long while even though the service was less than stellar. Kim and Mia left soon after dinner and Alan joined in on the rest of the evening shenanigans as we stopped by Tipsy McSway’s for after dinner cocktails and then moved on to Bardelous to play some pool where the bartender tempted us with our first taste of mead in a Viking cup. In the morning, Alan drove us to get the rental car before he left for work. Back at the marina, we started loading the car with our cold weather gear and some random spare boat parts I hadn’t seen in the whole 11 months we had been away. No wonder why we traveled at a snail’s pace. Taking a break, Rhonda and I headed off to Arte Pizza for lunch and look at the few shops that were open. It was the grand opening of the brewery, but the line was tremendous so we would have to venture over again once we returned to town next week. We relaxed the rest of the evening and packed up some last minute things as we were departing at 4am to begin the 16 hour ride home. While we were gone, the bottom of the boat was scheduled to be cleaned so, I was hoping that, combined with the hundreds of pounds we had packed in the car, would give us at least an extra 3 miles an hour of speed (wishful thinking of course).

The ride home was tedious, but uneventful. Driving up to the house, it was hard to believe we had been gone for so long. Covid was now in full swing so we weren’t sure what to expect as we heard things were much different up North. We had an amazing homecoming “social distancing” with family and friends. We had people over for barbecues and outdoor bone fires and we met those who were able to for dinner a few nights in town. It was great to see familiar faces we had missed for so long. The first few days home I spent unpacking boxes stored away in the basement and attic getting us all settled in. It was going to be a big transition for me as I went straight from the city, to the boat and was now going to be thrust into life in the country. The week went by quickly and it seemed like we were back on the boat in the blink of an eye.

Upon our return, we decided to keep the rental car for an extra day and took a ride to the fishing town of Darien. We had an amazing seafood lunch at Skipper’s Fish Camp on the water and strolled into Horse Creek winery where we were pleasantly surprised by the selection and ambiance. We indulged in frozen slushie wine cocktails to cool us off on the hot afternoon and also to sufficiently prepare me for yet another marine consignment store. We heard that if we were looking for fresh shrimp, Darien was the best place to be, so we stopped by the docks and were pointed to the yellow pick up truck in the gas station parking lot. Strange storefront, but the truck was the talk of the town. So much so that they were sold out of fresh shrimp when we arrived and directed us to Smith and Sons where we purchased two pounds of fresh off the boat shrimp, crab and some prepared meals. Stopping by Fort George on the way back to the marina, again marveling at the deep embedded history of our country’s evolution so prevalent up the coast, we enjoyed the sunshine and walked around the meticulously groomed landscape.

Today was Rhonda’s birthday, and although the sushi restaurant was closed, we were able to bring pizza from Arte into the newly opened Silverton Brewery for dinner. The new gig in town, the brewery was packed and we thoroughly enjoyed the selection of brews on tap. I had called on our ride back to town for the secret phrase allowing entry into The Study that evening (The paddy wagon is out back) so we headed off down the alley toward the mysterious door. Rob and Rhonda were as impressed as we were at the hidden gem and we had an enjoyable rest of the evening listening to jazz and joking about the fun times we’ve had together since meeting up on the ICW. We would both be leaving in two days…them off in their car to Mindy and Tanner’s house and us pushing north through the ICW toward home.

The next day we were ecstatic that Chris, Lisa and little Winston were making the drive up from Fort Lauderdale to see us for lunch. Sitting outside of Tipsy McSway’s (once again), armed with baby fans to cool us off from the miserable heat, it was great to catch up and see them before we went home. An added bonus was a gift of the best Sinammon (yes that is how they spell it) Rolls I have ever tasted that they picked up for us from Grandy’s. We are so fortunate to have met them on our travels and truly grateful that they have become good friends who we will keep in touch with and definitely plan to meet up with in the future. It was hard for Duane to say goodbye to his little buddy, Winston, as he peaked over the dashboard wagging his tail as they drove off.

After having “farewell drinks for now” with Rob and Rhonda that evening, it was the first time I felt anxious about the impending end of our trip. We hoped to see them up North if they were able to come to visit in the winter. If not, I will be due a warm weather trip sooner than later once the snow started to fall. We were so close to home, I wanted to press rewind and start the trip all over.

With Rob and Rhonda gone and Bev and Glynn still home visiting family, I spent our last day cleaning, doing laundry and filling up all the water jugs as the Captain tended to the anchor light and the solar panels as well as made sure the engines were in tip top shape (well at least one of them). I whipped up a Georgia sweet shrimp dinner to commemorate our memorable time in Brunswick and we turned in early. I was super excited for the sun to rise so we could cast off our lines and continue on to the finish line.