Happy Halloween — Cupcake Afloat

Tomorrow is the day our insurance company unties our leash. We are free to go south of Cumberland Island and light out for Miami (and then the Bahamas).

In the meantime, we passed another peaceful, interesting, relaxing few days working our way down the ICW in Georgia. We are glad we did not follow the advice of so many people who say the marshes of Georgia are interminable, unpleasant, boring. The marshes are providing some of the most pleasant sailing we have seen.

On Sunday we sailed about 21 of the 25 miles Ellen mapped out for our day. As has been the case for the past few weeks, the wind is favorable and the sun is bright. The marshes don’t block our breeze, but the waters of the creeks and rivers are smooth and make for easy progress and extremely relaxing sailing. We occasionally find ourselves fighting a fierce current, but because we are in no hurry, if we are poking along at just 3 knots, we don’t really care. Invariably, the current will turn (we can’t seem to predict which way a creek flows on ebb or flood, some will switch mid-stream if they are joined by a tributary) and we are suddenly zipping along at 7 knots. Yahoo!

We are finally starting to see other southbound sailors. Earlier in the week when we were anchored up one of the many Cedar Creeks, a trio of sailboats anchored on top of each other down the way. They are part of a group traveling in the company of an experienced ICW sailor who records and then shares his GPS track so others can upload it to their chart plotters and follow in his footsteps. The idea is that if the expert makes it through the shallow parts of the day without trouble, others will be able to also. We get it, but we don’t really see either the need or the desire. Part of the fun is figuring all this out for ourselves. And really, if we three idiots can do it, anybody can.

It’s not the size of the fort that matters, it’s the number of guns.

When we anchored for the evening at Fort Frederica on St. Simons Island, it was a little side trip from the ICW. The five sailboats that passed us during the day (all under motor, none with sails up) also passed what turned out to be a true gem of an anchorage and a treat of a shore visit. We liked it so much we stayed in the placid, lovely anchorage for two nights. Our neighbors are bald eagles, shore birds, and an old stone fort.

Fort Frederica was the one of the southernmost British forts on the east coast during the Colonial period, and it was built to keep the Spanish in Florida from coming north and threatening Britain’s cities Savannah and Charleston. The fort was not particularly massive, but it didn’t need to be because for a ship to get close enough to fire on the fort, it would first have to make its way over a mile of twisting river being raked by cannon fire from shore.

Cupcake would be riddled with cannon holes before she had a chance to get her guns to bear.

The park even had this super water fountain for dogs. Or cats.

In addition to the garrison at Fort Frederica there was a town of about 800 people within the walls. The general at the fort was a bit of a martinet and settlers decamped to Savannah and Charleston pretty regularly. There were some skirmishes over the course of the fort’s two-decade history. General Ogilthorpe went down to St. Augustine and fired cannons at the fort for a few weeks with no effect whatsoever. Then the Spanish made a foray up the coast, burning British settlements and outposts along the way. Ogilthorpe stopped the Spanish at Frederica but was later court marshaled.

After the British and the Spanish made peace, the garrison was pulled out of Georgia and the town declined rapidly and was pretty much a ghost town within a decade or two.

This is the view up Broad Street, Frederick, Georgia.

Ok, so this is going to sound like something I made up, but it is not. I asked Moss about this Playmobil cat she has in her room. She explained to me it is trans-species and identifies as a dog. I wonder what Trump has to say about which water fount… — Ok, so this is going to sound like something I made up, but it is not. I asked Moss about this Playmobil cat she has in her room. She explained to me it is trans-species and identifies as a dog. I wonder what Trump has to say about which water fountain it can use at the National park.

We toured the ruins, following the excellent Junior Ranger program the National Park Service put together. Moss worked hard and we all learned a great deal about life in a colonial backwater in Georgia.

In Georgia, a common colonial building material was called “tabby.” It was made by mixing oyster shells, lime, and sand.

Another thing we learned is that Spanish Moss (Tillandsia usneoides), an epiphyte (non-parasitic plants that grow on other plants but derive their nutrients and moisture from the air), is lovely but is home to all sorts of nasty critters. Creatures like ticks, mites, millipedes, spiders, rat snakes, and bats hang out in Spanish Moss. The colonists often used Spanish Moss to stuff their mattresses. I’m getting the itchy heebie-jeebies just typing this paragraph.

Sailboat maintenance update: I went up the mast to replace two damaged cheek blocks that we use for our lazy jacks. (Landlubbers: a cheek block is a pulley that bolts to a flat surface. Lazy jacks are a web of ropes we use to keep the mainsail from spilling all over the deck when we lower it at the end of the day.) The task involved screwdrivers, vice grips, drill bits, and a rivet gun. All this while suspended in the air. This is one of my favorite things about sailing – problem solving and boat repairs.

After the cheek blocks, the next job was to reset the wifi antenna at the top of the mast. The antenna stopped working when we were in Charleston and hitting the reset button 53’ above the water was my last-chance attempt to resolve the issue. Seems to have done the trick.

New cheek block. It’s not a pretty installation, but who’s going to see it (besides the thousands of blog-watchers)?

That’s my shadow there at the very top of the mast.

Finally, we have a 56’ bridge we need to go under in Florida but until this week, had no idea exactly how high our mast stands. Careful work with a tape measure reveals that the top of the windex (wind indicator) and wifi antenna are 53.5’ above the water. Our VHF antenna stands another foot or two higher but is flexible. So we know we can make it under the Julia Tuttle Causeway Bridge. That comforting piece of information means we can get Cupcake to Aunt Kathy and Uncle Larry’s dock when we are in Miami. Warn the neighbors: here we come.

At least 33% of the crew is buzzing with excitement about Halloween. She will be dressed as a highway cone. We’ve stopped for the night at a marina near Brunswick, Georgia so Moss can go door to door begging for chocolate.

An unknown colonist buried in an unmarked tomb in a Georgia ghost town.

“Hey Moss, move just a bit to your left…”

We see lots of marsh grass, so you get to see it as well.

Sometimes we are reminded that the ICW is also used by commercial vessels.

I tried to line up Cupcake so Moss looked like a unicorn but without my old-man reading glasses I couldn’t manage.

And what would a blog post be without a selfie from Ellie?