Cape Lookout, North Carolina

(No wifi, weak cell signal, so no pictures for a while.)

On Friday we bade farewell to Oriental, had a delightful short sail across the mouth of the Neuse River and headed to a quiet anchorage at Cedar Creek. The wind was in the low teens and we had plenty of time because the anchorage was less than 10 miles from town. So under sail we tacked across the river back onto the ICW where it follows a narrower, river-like channel. The wind dropped but stayed steady enough for us to sail all the way to the little creek where we anchored.

The sail was one of those perfect afternoons where the destination arrives before the wind dies or the sailing becomes a chore. We worked our way into the little side creek and dropped anchor in about 7 feet of dark brown water. Later in the evening another sailboat anchored for the night.

We were treated to the drama of thunderstorms on and off all night. Lots of lightning and distant thunder, but no big winds, no big rains, no drama. After dark we watched a tug and barge make their way past our anchorage, headed for Beaufort. Glad we were not on the water in the dark with that scary rig.

Sunday morning we got up earlier than we have in a long time so we could catch the tide for our 26 mile run down the ICW, through Beaufort, then out into the ocean (!) and up to Cape Lookout. Didn’t really figure the tide right. Somehow we caught a great ebb tide and were zipping along at 6 knots as we motored down the canal. But when we got to the Beaufort end of things it turned into a flood tide and really slowed us down. Yet just an hour or two later when we were flying along under sail towards the Cape, we were again on an ebb tide. Peculiar.

Sunday was another day when the destination arrived well before we wanted to stop sailing. After overhearing some sailors chattering on the VHF about the big wind as they sailed up to Cape Lookout about an hour ahead of us, we figured the wind on the outside was up, so we hoisted the mainsail with a double reef. (Side note: the jiffy-reefing system I’ve been planning since the winter utterly failed. Somehow after the boom was reinstalled post-hurricane, things have not been working properly with the reefing. It led to difficulty hoisting the mainsail, strong words among the crew, and frustration for the chief engineer aboard. Alas.

Out on the ocean it turned out the wind was a perfect 16 knots or so. We (ultimately) hoisted the whole mainsail and unfurled all of the jib and were rewarded with a sparkling ride for the 7 miles or so before getting to the anchorage in the bight at Cape Lookout. Saw dolphins for the first time in weeks.

Dropped anchor onto a sandy bottom in blue-green water for the first time since Virginia. (Didn’t check the tide height ahead of time, so the 9’ of water rapidly decreased to 7’ and headed for about 3.5’ as Moss and I got in the dinghy with our lead line to find a spot deep enough that we wouldn’t be on the bottom at low tide.) Found eleven feet, moved Cupcake and that was that. 

After that we re-anchored and dinghied the half mile over to the lighthouse to check things out. On the way to the lighthouse we crossed a shoal with about 2’ of water. Moss wanted desperately to swim, so we stopped and she hopped out. And promptly lost her green Croc. After a flash of panic (with only one shoe, she would need to become a peg leg, we think) we spotted her Croc and reinstalled it on her foot.

The lighthouse at Cape Lookout is one of those beautiful black and white jobs that are common on the Carolina coast. (In New England our beacons are much less showy – I almost said “less flashy” but that would be inaccurate.) I always attributed the spirals and stripes and diamonds that are common on the lighthouses down here to some southern immodesty. But we learned that this lighthouse, at least, uses its diamond pattern to provide additional information to mariners: if you see black diamonds, you are headed north/south. If you see white ones you are headed east/west. And with the relatively featureless coastline (no hills to speak of) the spirals or stripes or whatever let you know where you are. Clever.

Not so clever, perhaps, were the Carolinians who built the first iteration of the lighthouse. It was too short to be seen from far enough out to sea to warn sailors off the shoals. Seems like a basic trigonometry problem that should have been worked out well before construction began. Maybe the builders used all their energies coming up with the black and white pattern, leaving nothing for mathematics. The art teacher aboard does not like the implications.

Immediately after we were secure at anchor, three of our neighbors in the anchorage came over by dinghy. We assumed they were going to tell us what we already knew, that we were in too-shallow water. But instead they invited us to a beach bonfire in the evening. Turns out about eight of the boats here were out of the Oriental area and meet up annually for a dinner and fire. Very welcoming. We did not make it to the beach because by the time we were back aboard from visiting the lighthouse, the ocean side of the cape, another swim, we were all a little cold, tired, and not too interested in another long wet dinghy ride after dark. (Yes, you read that right – cold. Temperatures were in the frigid high 70s – Moss got the shivers after her swim. She is currently wearing a long sleeve shirt with a picture of a mug of hot cocoa on it, and polar fleece pajama bottoms. Winter is coming.)

Today is being passed reading, learning, fixing things, and preparing for our 130 mile overnight run offshore tomorrow. Because the wind looks ideal, we will leave here tomorrow in the mid-morning and head to the Little River Inlet in South Carolina. It’s just up the coast from Myrtle Beach. 

This morning when I went up on deck to ensure Cupcake was more or less where we parked her the day before, I was treated to the sight of a pod of dolphins hunting for fish. It is wonderful being back in clean water again. There was no sign of the brown murk evident in that satellite photo from September 19, thank goodness. (Although I have no doubt the harm to the ecosystem did not just wash away.)

Ellen and Moss baked brownies. (The crew-minus-Ellen (who is off sugar because of a control issue) has had a bit of The Shugs lately. Craving chocolate and ice cream and whipped cream and cookies and brownies and sweet tea…mmmm. Today it was finally cool enough to justify running the oven for snackery.) Yesterday we mentioned to the neighbors that we were looking for somewhere we could get ice cream (a curious goal here at the end of the earth, surrounded by nothing much more than dunes). About 30 minutes later their friends dinghied over with three freeze-pops. That’s southern hospitality.

Apology section: I apologize to our Canadian foes* if I offended them in an earlier post. The point was not to say that all Canadians are rude and entitled. Just the ones on the boat docked next to us in Oriental. Heck, some of my best friends are Canadians. Nobody is less anti-Canadian than I am. Trust me.

*Since the groper** in the Whitehouse decided that the Europeans are our foes, I assume the same logic applies to Canadians.

**That’s a Canadian cousin’s term. Her words, not mine.***

***Sean Spicer’s words. Not mine.