Offshore wrap-up
Happy October!
(Still no wifi. And Oh My Goodness is the cell service slow. Pictures will have to wait.)
Because we wanted to ensure a daylight arrival at the Little Creek Inlet, we figured a mid-morning departure from Cape Lookout was the way to go. So after a morning spent making final preparations, we hoisted the mainsail, motored out of the anchorage, rounded the knuckle of the Cape, and shut down the motor for a delightful broad reach.
The wind was in the mid-teens, and because both wind and seas were from behind us, we had a relaxing easy sail under just the main through the day. Ellen learned, to her dismay, that we would be farther offshore than we’ve been since crossing to and from the Bahamas in 2012. For some reason this piece of trivia set her a little on edge. I was actually surprised to see we would only be 30 miles off the coast. In any event, the distance from shore was of course not an issue.
Late in the afternoon we were joined by a pod of dolphins. Our escorts swam alongside Cupcake, played in the bow wave, and gave us a real treat for about five minutes before scooting off to other pressing dolphin-business elsewhere.
The GPS provided a constant stream of data about, most relevant to this paragraph, when we would arrive at our destination. Throughout the afternoon we were making too much progress and were worried our arrival would be before dawn. By evening, however, things slowed and we decided to motor sail to ensure we didn’t arrive hours later than was necessary.
We had been a little concerned about the alternator’s ability to charge the batteries – some partly cloudy weather coupled with many days of four fans running nonstop and the heat making the refrigerator work very hard challenged the solar panels’ ability to fully charge the batteries. So we departed with the batteries at about 75% charged. Our batteries at six years old, are already nearing the end of their service life. So we kept a vigilant eye on their state of charge during the solar-charging hours and decided running the engine would ensure they stayed healthy overnight.
When we ran the motor, the alternator would only periodically charge the batteries. Ultimately I think the relatively deep state of discharge made the alternator struggle to feed the batteries all the power they wanted, so it would get too warm and take a break. It took hours longer than anticipated for the batteries to reach full charge. Since then, however, the panels have had no difficulty keeping up with demand, and the alternator has been healthy and happy. One more item to keep an eye on, I suppose.
The journey through the night was, quite simply, exhausting. Moss stayed up most of the night, chattering to whoever was on watch. Ellen and I alternated watches, ultimately getting an hour’s rest for each hour on watch. But at around 2am when our course demanded a sharp turn to starboard as we passed Frying Pan Shoal off Cape Fear, we needed to take down the mainsail to keep it from banging and slatting in the much lighter breeze.
The job of tying up the sail fell to me and between my exhaustion and the odd rolling of the boat, I got seasick. For hours beforehand I had felt more or less queasy, but on deck in the dark, I lost it over the side. Got the sail tied up, then Ellen gave me a precious hour to sleep while she stood an extra watch. Once I woke up and fed myself a Red Bull I was fully functional for the rest of the trip. (Ellen and Moss are laughing as I read this to them. It seems I was more than fully functional. I was manic.)
Our arrival at Little River Inlet 23 hours after setting out on our 130 mile trip was without further mishap. We motored up to a quiet anchorage just off the ICW and all went to our bunks. I was overtired and over-caffeinated so I couldn’t fall asleep. Ellen had no trouble, but Moss was a little wired as well. We relaxed for the rest of the day and went to bed early.
As I am writing this two days after the overnight, we are all still catching up on our sleep. A full day spent without a good night’s sleep really messed with us. We have decided that more overnights are just not in our future. Despite many many sailors who profess to love big offshore jumps, despite the many benefits (the stars are spectacular at sea at night, we can cover lots of ground, things are generally safer offshore, etc.) we are day sailors at heart.
(Side note: we prepared a ditch bag just in case we needed to abandon ship (abandon to where? Who knows?) during the overnight passage. When we get wifi I’ll post a picture of the contents of the ditch bag. We packed passports, cash, a compass, a knife, sunscreen, bug spray, a flashlight, a first aid kit, the EPIRB, Boat Bunny, a spare VHF radio. But no flares. Don’t worry mom, we didn’t ditch.)
So at Little River we relaxed for a day, got diesel and water, spent another peaceful night at anchor at Bird Island just off the inlet, and then set off this morning for a 36 mile trip down to Murrells Inlet.
Sailed about half of the way here before the wind died away.
Had a delightful reach
sailing south past Myrtle Beach.
Things were good until
the wind grew still.
Ellen notes that sailing is one big art lesson: horizontal lines at sea, vertical lines with the high-rises on shore. Rectangles, triangles, circles (when there are ferris wheels). I’ll back this up with a picture later, but Ellen even thinks our anchor (a 45 lb. Mantus that we love) looks like Picasso’s Bull’s Head sculpture. She has taken to calling the anchor her friend Pablo.
This spot at Murrells is very different from anywhere we have yet been. It’s an inlet that is not connected to the ICW (which is closed between Little River and tomorrow’s stop, Georgetown, SC because of flood damage from Florence). So very few transient sailboats find themselves here. This place is all about sportfishing. Of the many hundreds of boats docked in the inlet, only three are sailboats. One of those is a half-sunk neglected 20-footer, one is a 21’ daysailer, and the third is a big cruiser that looks completely out of place surrounded by 600 horsepower sportfishers.
When we dinghied up to a dock to ask where to find ice-cream, the dock master didn’t even know what to call Mr. Flowerpot…called her our “little boat.” Fishingboats don’t seem to use dinghies.
Anyway, there is no dock space available for transients (we didn’t really want a dock anyway) so we are anchored about 100’ off a sandy beach on the inlet lined with vacation homes. The current is very strong, and after dropping Pablo to the sandy bottom and paying out about 75’ of chain, Ellen cleated the chain and we felt Pablo dig in with a jerk and bring Cupcake to an abrupt and comforting halt.
Tonight we’ve got beach on one side, marsh grasses on the other. It is beautiful here and we are hoping that when the sun sets the wakes from fishing boats zooming back to port will subside.
After dropping anchor early this afternoon, we took a dinghy ride about a mile and a half to the town in search of ice-cream and bread. (Found ice-cream, couldn’t find a convenience store.) Like City Island, NY it seems the best bet for a restaurant name (and this place is all restaurants and raw bars) is to name it Johnny’s something. Or to name it anything with a “z” in the name. Crazy Johnny’s. Twizted Johnny’s. Dead Sea Dogz. Bubba’s Love Nest and Crab Shack. The ice-cream shack was, of course, Twister’z.)
Ellen is making Moss her favorite dinner: fried breaded tilapia with rice. Also, we are right on schedule with our bourbon consumption. Just opened the October bottle. Yum.