Beaufort, SC — Cupcake Afloat

Moss seems to go up the mast about once a week.

Those anchorages in the marshes are really pleasant. Lots of dolphin and fish and bird action. Significantly fewer bug troubles than we anticipated. And the stars are mighty fine. It looks like the Big Dipper is very low on the horizon in the evening this time of year at this latitude. And Orion is nowhere to be found (at least when I go to bed).

Careful readers of this blog likely noticed, in the picture of Cupcake’s transom from the October 10 post “Prepped Again” that there was a piece of rope tied around the swim ladder. You were all too polite to say anything about it, figuring we had enough to contend with and didn’t need your nosy questions.

…and while she is up there, she takes great photos. This is Bass Creek.

Well, I say never worry about asking the intrepid crew about anything! (Notice I didn’t say there’s no such thing as a stupid question. Anyone who has ever raised a child or stood at the front of a classroom knows better than that.) Anyway, the rope was holding the swim ladder together.

Back in Maine we had a local welder fix our swim ladder. The ladder has given us grief for years. We had the hinges at the top of the ladder, where it attaches to the boat and swings up and down, welded a few years ago when we noticed some cracks. That weld job was poorly done and the ladder never worked smoothly afterwards.

Last winter I had the brilliant idea of getting a ladder from a salvage boat, cutting the top foot or so off it, and having that piece welded to our ladder (after cutting off the corresponding top foot that was all rusty and poorly welded). So the local guy did just that for us in May. He even managed to slide the old ladder tubes into the new ladder tubes (which were slightly larger diameter) for added strength.

What he didn’t do is weld the joint. He soldered it or brazed it. In any event, when I climbed up the ladder to get out of the water at Cape Lookout, it fell apart. That’s why the rope. So in Charleston we found a welder who worked with stainless steel and he did a fantastic job repairing the ladder once and for all. Now it swings up and down smoothly and will not fall apart again.

The ladder was a critical piece of equipment this afternoon when Ellen used it to climb down into Mr. Flowerpot for the dinghy ride to Beaufort. Ordinarily, the crew scrambles over the side of Cupcake and drops down into Mr. Flowerpot like so many rats. But with her ribjury (that’s rib injury, a portmanteau. Go read Lewis Carroll: “You see it’s like a portmanteau – there are two meanings packed up into one word”) Ellen was worried the clambering would be too much for her. So this afternoon she used the new ladder and got into the dinghy with no problem and with plenty of dignity (which is almost a pun).

We are anchored in the most excellently named Factory Creek tonight. Beaufort, SC (not to be confused with Beaufort, NC which sports a completely different pronunciation) has a beautiful, enormous town dock but does not permit overnight docking. So we are parked across the Coosaw River from town. Our spot is protected and peaceful, across the creek not from a factory, but from a bunch of spendy waterfront homes. (Not one person on shore shouted “Hey Cupcake, do you want to come over for dinner and maybe a shower?” If you ever find yourself in your fancy waterfront home and a really pleasant family aboard a cruising boat anchors nearby, don’t be shy about inviting us in.)

Ellen tells me this Beaufort is where The Big Chill, Forrest Gump, The Great Santini, and a bunch of other movies we can’t remember were filmed.

In Mr. Flowerpot we took a shortcut through the ubiquitous marsh, crossed the Coosaw, and tied Mr. Flowerpot to the town dock. Walked around town, checked out the shops and galleries, then did what we came to do which was eat gelato and use free wifi. Moss then found a playground and ran around shouting like a pirate for about 45 minutes.

We’ve found a really excellent radio station down here. As we’ve moved down the coast, it has been interesting to sample the local music. Despite the homogenization of broadcast radio, there are some standouts to be found. College stations are usually quite good (except when they are awful, which can also be entertaining). But for a while we were beset with plenty of religious stations and country stations. I can’t abide either although I would take a Jesus station over a country station if that was the only choice. (Fortunately, aboard Cupcake it is not). But this station (The Bridge) is great. They even have a Grateful Dead hour (admittedly it’s at 11pm on Sunday so we missed it by several hours). Rock on.

As we made our way to the anchorage, we saw a bunch of crazy cut-up school buses on the road. They had their windows removed, part of their hooves cut away, and were definitely not carrying children. A little research revealed that the buses are used for transporting watermelons. It seems schoolhouses have a lifespan (for carting kids around) of between 7 and 10 years. After that, in this part of the country at least, they are repurposed as produce haulers. The field workers can easily toss the melons through the windows to people who stack them inside, the buses can carry thousands of pounds, and buses can be bought cheaply.

That’s my kind of wall chat. And my kind of law enforcement.