I'm starting 2012 with a bit of an antidote to the envy evident in replies to my last post.
I've been warned about the No-seeums but I've seen them in the northeast and never thought they were a big deal. They barely bite. They started to gather around as I was watching the last sunset I'll ever see on a year that ends in "11". There were a few more than I've ever not-seen at one time but they didn't seem very threatening.
I retired at "Cruiser's Midnight" (9:00 pm) and drifted off quickly to sleep despite what sounded like a pitched battle for Bluffton raging outside. Fireworks turn out to be as big a part of a Carolina New Years's as a New England July forth. It sounded as though they were being supplemented by quite a few actual firearms. Note to self: Do NOT anchor far out in a marsh on New Year's Eve down this way next year!
It wasn't the explosions which woke me in time to hear the start of the first new year I've been awake for since the turn of the century. It was a raging itching in my beard and neck as if I had been badly sunburned. Those damn little critters evidently can penetrate ventilators and the cracks around the companionway like a bad odor and they seem to have a special affinity for curly hair where they can burrow down to the tender flesh.
The battle wound down quickly after the climatic final frenzy but my first night of a year I hope will take me 4000 miles or more was a sleepless one. I was awake to hear each siren of the clean up crews and had to get up to rummage through lockers for the anti-itch gel someone gave me.
I woke late to a beautiful, clear, crisp, still, morning. Funky outboard boats were heading out just as I got up. They were loaded high with fish tote boxes and their crew were shouting cheerfully to each other in Gullah, the creole language of the Carolina and Georgia low country. It made the morning seem beautifully exotic against the backdrop of palm trees.
One of the fisherman looked at my boat and said, "A sailboat anchored up here? That's a first." Judging from his age and the fact that they were out early on New Year's day makes me think there probably isn't much he's missed on this waterfront. I'll lay odds that I really am the first. I shouldn't be the last to see this great little town though.
I've been warned about the No-seeums but I've seen them in the northeast and never thought they were a big deal. They barely bite. They started to gather around as I was watching the last sunset I'll ever see on a year that ends in "11". There were a few more than I've ever not-seen at one time but they didn't seem very threatening.
I retired at "Cruiser's Midnight" (9:00 pm) and drifted off quickly to sleep despite what sounded like a pitched battle for Bluffton raging outside. Fireworks turn out to be as big a part of a Carolina New Years's as a New England July forth. It sounded as though they were being supplemented by quite a few actual firearms. Note to self: Do NOT anchor far out in a marsh on New Year's Eve down this way next year!
It wasn't the explosions which woke me in time to hear the start of the first new year I've been awake for since the turn of the century. It was a raging itching in my beard and neck as if I had been badly sunburned. Those damn little critters evidently can penetrate ventilators and the cracks around the companionway like a bad odor and they seem to have a special affinity for curly hair where they can burrow down to the tender flesh.
The battle wound down quickly after the climatic final frenzy but my first night of a year I hope will take me 4000 miles or more was a sleepless one. I was awake to hear each siren of the clean up crews and had to get up to rummage through lockers for the anti-itch gel someone gave me.
I woke late to a beautiful, clear, crisp, still, morning. Funky outboard boats were heading out just as I got up. They were loaded high with fish tote boxes and their crew were shouting cheerfully to each other in Gullah, the creole language of the Carolina and Georgia low country. It made the morning seem beautifully exotic against the backdrop of palm trees.
One of the fisherman looked at my boat and said, "A sailboat anchored up here? That's a first." Judging from his age and the fact that they were out early on New Year's day makes me think there probably isn't much he's missed on this waterfront. I'll lay odds that I really am the first. I shouldn't be the last to see this great little town though.
