I woke to early and stuck my head out the companionway into total blackness and a raw, damp wind. The reality of what I’m setting out to do sunk in as I made breakfast, caught up on emails, and waited for some light.
I was up in the wild and unspoiled regions of Watts Cut by the time the sun came over the horizon. I’ve said here and elsewhere that Maine is the coast’s greatest cruising ground and I come down here primarily as a way to afford the boat and avoid New England winters. Perhaps it was the poignancy if leaving the south earlier than expected and planning life changes which may bring me this way more often. It may have just been the way that special light you only see at the ends of a day was shining up at the Palmetto trees and penetrating deep into the woodlands. I suddenly realized that I have come to love the Low Country as deeply as Maine and my cruising here has become as important in memory and future dreams as any I’ve done in the north.
Flocks of those pure white birds that look just like our Maine herons were feeding along the land cut at dead low tide. They kept flying up and ahead of the boat and then settling down just ahead until I got there. I thought it strange that they would not be used to boats by now but realized after a while that they were looking for any schools of fish that the approach of the boat might have scared towards shore.
It was a long and cold run to Charleston where I had planned to stop. I came up to the Wappo Creek Bridge just four minutes before it’s twice an hour opening and breezed right through without even backing off the throttle. My friends from Portland are wintering there and I also had another invitation from forumites but the day was fine and, this time of year, you need to make time when you can.
I returned a text from Buck420 with a phone call while crossing the first harbor channel to discuss my tooth. He thinks it can wait until I get to Norfolk and I’d like someone I trust to work on it instead of throwing myself on the mercy of an unknown dentist as a walk in. That settled it, I put the throttle forward again and watched Charleston slip by. Add another to my list of reasons to get back to the Chesapeake as soon as possible. As you all know, I love to cover the miles. Seldom have I had so many good reasons.
Coming up to the Ben Sawyer Bridge, I was just backing off the throttle to kill half an hour waiting for the next opening when I noticed a barge approaching. Despite waiting for this I got through early.
It looks like it is going backwards but they had second push boat on the bow being pushed backwards to work as a bow thruster and break. With what looked like about six inches clearance on each side, they needed it.
I’m now anchored at mile 452. Beaufort was mile 536 so I’m 16% of the way to Norfolk already. Wow, I could do it in less than a week at this rate but I doubt I’ll have such good luck with the weather. I can’t get through the Gilmerton Bridge until the 16 th anyway but I’ll leave the boat at Great Bridge or some such place and attend to my tooth and other things if I get there early.
43 nm to Georgetown tomorrow. Another dinner at Aunny’s coming up.
I was up in the wild and unspoiled regions of Watts Cut by the time the sun came over the horizon. I’ve said here and elsewhere that Maine is the coast’s greatest cruising ground and I come down here primarily as a way to afford the boat and avoid New England winters. Perhaps it was the poignancy if leaving the south earlier than expected and planning life changes which may bring me this way more often. It may have just been the way that special light you only see at the ends of a day was shining up at the Palmetto trees and penetrating deep into the woodlands. I suddenly realized that I have come to love the Low Country as deeply as Maine and my cruising here has become as important in memory and future dreams as any I’ve done in the north.
Flocks of those pure white birds that look just like our Maine herons were feeding along the land cut at dead low tide. They kept flying up and ahead of the boat and then settling down just ahead until I got there. I thought it strange that they would not be used to boats by now but realized after a while that they were looking for any schools of fish that the approach of the boat might have scared towards shore.
It was a long and cold run to Charleston where I had planned to stop. I came up to the Wappo Creek Bridge just four minutes before it’s twice an hour opening and breezed right through without even backing off the throttle. My friends from Portland are wintering there and I also had another invitation from forumites but the day was fine and, this time of year, you need to make time when you can.
I returned a text from Buck420 with a phone call while crossing the first harbor channel to discuss my tooth. He thinks it can wait until I get to Norfolk and I’d like someone I trust to work on it instead of throwing myself on the mercy of an unknown dentist as a walk in. That settled it, I put the throttle forward again and watched Charleston slip by. Add another to my list of reasons to get back to the Chesapeake as soon as possible. As you all know, I love to cover the miles. Seldom have I had so many good reasons.
Coming up to the Ben Sawyer Bridge, I was just backing off the throttle to kill half an hour waiting for the next opening when I noticed a barge approaching. Despite waiting for this I got through early.
It looks like it is going backwards but they had second push boat on the bow being pushed backwards to work as a bow thruster and break. With what looked like about six inches clearance on each side, they needed it.
I’m now anchored at mile 452. Beaufort was mile 536 so I’m 16% of the way to Norfolk already. Wow, I could do it in less than a week at this rate but I doubt I’ll have such good luck with the weather. I can’t get through the Gilmerton Bridge until the 16 th anyway but I’ll leave the boat at Great Bridge or some such place and attend to my tooth and other things if I get there early.
43 nm to Georgetown tomorrow. Another dinner at Aunny’s coming up.
