home is where the boat is: The Carolinas, South then North

2014: Tuesday, March 18 – Thursday, March 27

sunset in Southport, NC

We left Charleston on a cold and wet day—we had already spent two such days in the city and felt it was time to keep moving and making northward progress. We arrived at Georgetown in the dark, and left early the next morning after enjoying a warm breakfast from a local diner. That day was again wet and cold, but we were traveling through one of our favorite sections of the ICW, the Waccamaw River, and the dramatic landscape of the Waccamaw lends itself nicely to dark, dreary days.

The Waccamaw winds from just north of Georgetown to just south of Myrtle Beach, and is a bank-less river with trees that grow from mossy stumps sunk into the water, and high branches draped with Spanish moss. The river is deep up to its tree-lined edges, and is full of narrow twists and turns, side creeks and loops, and hidden nooks and crannies. There is very little visual evidence of development and human presence along these banks, and so the Waccamaw feels wild and remote. Because of its beauty and quiet, the Waccamaw is a lovely place to spend a few days at anchor—on our trip south we spent a few nights here, including one with heavy winds and a tornado watch, but nestled inside the tall trees our anchorage was protected and calm.

This time we didn’t stop overnight in the Waccamaw but only enjoyed our trip through it, excited to try a new anchorage that evening. As we reached the northern stretches of this beautiful river, the sky began to clear and the temperatures began to warm. In the late afternoon we arrived at that night’s destination: Calabash Creek, nearby the town of Little River, on the border of North and South Carolina. This proved to be another beautiful, quiet spot and we spent the evening relaxing as the sun set, watching the boats go by on the ICW’s channel and towards the nearby inlet.

CAPT JEFF along the ICW by theshipsblog.com

fishing vessel along the ICW

Lou also took a row around, and during his row assisted a couple who was hard aground to drop their anchor in the deeper water. It sounded like they’d had bad luck in that area, and had run aground continually over the past few days, waiting patiently for the tide to rise and then getting stuck in a new spot as they tried to escape. They’d also run out of fuel during these efforts, but had filled some jerry cans earlier that day and were hoping to finally move on the next morning, and when we left the anchorage it looked like they were doing well and would be free again soon. We’d learned early on to be sympathetic, never judgmental, towards groundings in the ICW because it could just as easily be us. A couple we met had a story that summed it up nicely: They found themselves aground, and while kedging off were annoyed to hear on the VHF the unsympathetic banter of two sailboats passing by, cruelly commenting on their situation. The next day they felt vindicated when they passed those same two sailboats, hard aground.

We didn’t go too far the next day so that we could stop in another new town: Southport, NC. Southport is situated just where the ICW meets the Cape Fear River, running north towards Wilmington or southeast out the inlet. The lighthouse protecting the inlet can be seen blinking in the distance, marking the gateway to the ocean.

The quiet, small-town beachy feel of Southport is apparently appealing to the film industry, and Southport has been a popular location for Hollywood films and TV shows such as Dawson’s Creek. Our stop in the visitors’ center taught us this bit of trivia, as we looked at a wall of movie posters and memorabilia. We also visited the branch of the North Carolina Maritime Museum located in Southport (two additional branches with different exhibit focuses are located in Beaufort and Hatteras) to learn more of the state’s maritime heritage, and were particularly thrilled with one interactive exhibit that allowed us to explore a 360-degree view of the area using a periscope mounted through the museum’s ceiling.

We enjoyed the beautiful afternoon walking along the waterfront sections of the Cape Fear River and ICW bordering the town, and then sat on the outside deck of a bar overlooking the harbor to watch the sun set over the marshes behind Evelyn.

Sunset along the ICW, NC

Early the next morning we left Southport bound for Swansboro, where we were looking forward to a visit with family friends that evening. But the day started slow and stayed that way so our time to visit was cut short—we made very poor time and what we had anticipated to be a long but manageable day became a long and frustrating one. In the end, it took us nearly fifteen hours to transit about 70 NM under power. We cast off at 0630 and headed up the Cape Fear River—the swift tide would turn soon but at the moment was against us, so we trudged along at a speed of only 3.5 knots. This slowing seemed to forecast our poor luck for the rest of the day; there were many bridges between Southport and Swansboro, and we missed the openings for nearly all of them. We missed our first opening by just five minutes, and then had to wait 55 minutes for the next. The second we missed by 10 minutes, and waited twenty. The third was again by 5, and we waited another 55. For a fourth bridge we only waited 15 minutes, but by then it was dark and we had spent more than two hours of our day staring at bridges, so even that fifteen minutes became frustratingly long. It was a long day motoring along with the vibration and noise of the engine, fighting currents to stay in narrow channels while awaiting bridges, and we felt like we had not accomplished much. We spent the last three hours of our trip to Swansboro in the dark, and were exhausted. We were happy to sleep and start fresh the next day. For our long day, however, we were at least rewarded with a brilliant sunset over calm waters and marshy landscapes.

After a lovely morning visit with our friends and some nice pampering and help with errands—we had a home-cooked breakfast, showered, did laundry, visited a farmer’s market, got groceries, and filled our propane—we left in the afternoon to enjoy a cool but sunny day with a southwest breeze of about 15-20 knots. Though the ICW is narrow and sailing can be tricky, the direction was perfect so that we could cut the engine and spend the day sailing. The wind pushed us quickly along to beautiful Beaufort, and the 24 mile trip took just a few hours. The sailing was perfect and provided the morale boost we needed after our hours under power the day before, as well as a welcome reminder that portions of the ICW can be sailed and the route doesn’t have to be completed solely under power alone.

S/V Fritha, at dusk in Beaufort, NC

Beaufort is a lovely town that we must definitely return to someday—cute homes and buildings, nice shops and restaurants, and water on nearly all sides. Because the main anchorage along the town’s waterfront was crowded, we anchored along the backside in Town Creek, opting for a longer row and walk into town. The sun had just set and the boats along the town’s waterfront basked in twilight, including some gorgeous yachts. The main anchorage and docks of Beaufort were nestled between the scenic town and the Rachel Carson Reserve, an island park offering hiking and nature trails. If we had arrived earlier or stayed longer the next morning, a visit to the preserve definitely would have been on our itinerary. A future visit to Beaufort will also include a stop at the branch of the NC Maritime Museum here, whose weekend hours did not match our own.

After a nice walk around town the skies began to darken and grow moist as the predicted severe thunderstorms drew close, so we hastened back to the dinghy and Evelyn and prepared for the storm. We closed our hatches, checked our anchor and watched the approaching lightening as a friend anchored only about thirty miles away texted us photos of the hail battering his boat. We were lucky and met high winds and heavy rain, but no ice.

The next day we returned to Oriental, NC, a favorite stopover of our trips North and South. Our second stay in Oriental was just as wonderful as our stop in December had been—Oriental is a town brimming over with friendliness, and everyone there seems to have some connection to the water. Before our lines were tied we had already made new friends, and were giving a tour of Evelyn above and below decks to a couple currently working on the interior of a boat they’ve been building for years, which they were preparing to launch in June (2014). Because Evelyn is also a homebuild, they were very interested to see how her builder, Ben Severns, had tackled certain problems.

Departing Town Creek, nearby Beaufort, on a foggy morning.

Our day of making new friends continued that afternoon as we took a walk through the town and by the many docks and boatyards. As we admired the many boats, we met a couple whom we’d met online and exchanged some emails with—they sail a Dreadnaught similar to Evelyn’s shape and it was fascinating to see how the original owner of their boat chose to finish the interior spaces, as it was so very different from ours.

Later that night we met with more friends for dinner, Jake and Jenny aboard Moonshadow. We’d originally met Jake here in Oriental when we docked side by side in December as we both traveled south, and it was fun to be back in Oriental, side by side again. Our paths had crossed many times over the past few months, and it was fun to have a friend making a similar journey nearby. Jake and Jenny had been ahead of us in Florida and because they travelled at a faster speed than us in his Albin we thought we might not catch up again, but our offshore sails had pulled us ahead so that they arrived in Charleston as we left, and now we converged again in Oriental.

Jake and Lou spent the evening plotting routes, times, and anchorages north into the Chesapeake. With a gale warning forecast within the next 48 hours and winds increasing until then, there was the all-important question of where we should ride out the storm. Oriental would be a pleasant place to be for a few days, but bad weather would follow the next week as well. Though it was still just March, Lou and I wanted to be back in Maine for work May 1, with plenty of time to allow for bad weather along the way, and a few days to visit our families when we reached NJ. Jake was also trying to keep a steady pace northward to return to work in the spring. With a couple of long days of travelling we could continue a steady journey North and still be well-positioned for the upcoming gales. The four of us decided a few days of more fast-paced travel would be more fun if we did it together, so by late next morning, both boats were fueled and ready to go.

Lou, bundled up.

However we could not leave Oriental without first enjoying a morning in the coffee shop we’d come to love in December—The Bean. (My guess is this hangout is equally loved by all those stopping in Oriental via the ICW!) We enjoyed breakfast and coffee at the Bean while chatting with the sailors we’d met there a few months before as we journeyed south. It was hard to leave the friendly atmosphere of The Bean and the town, and to cast off the lines to continue on. It would have been very easy to stay longer, and I hope we find ourselves in Oriental again in the future.

By afternoon we were off and heading north again. As we crossed Pamlico Sound we motor-sailed, picking up an extra 1.5 knots with the strong east winds. The day was sunny and the night was clear, but very cold and dark—there was no moon, and no light as we made a chilly transit through the Pungo-Alligator Canal. We were grateful for our radar, which helped us easily locate the edges of the canal, and for a strong Maglite flashlight that easily helped us spot tree trunks floating at the surface of the water. During the day we had hit one unexpectedly, luckily without any damage, so we knew to be extra alert that night.

into the Dismal Swamp, via the Pasquotank River

Moonshadow was ahead of us by an hour or so and already anchored in the Alligator River Bight when we finally arrived, so we joined nearby just after midnight. We were up before sunrise for an early start the next morning—the gale warning was for later that afternoon and into the night and next day, and we planned to reach the docks in Elizabeth City before then. Added incentive for an early start was the need for an opening to pass through the Alligator River Bridge. Beyond the bridge was the Albemarle Sound, and our bridge tables revealed the bridge would not open in excess of 35 knot winds, so if a gale did spring up early, we could be stuck in a less than ideal location. Luckily, we only experienced east winds of about 10-15 for the morning and most the afternoon, until the predicted system approached and hit later. Though it was overcast, cold, and raining, once through the bridge we had perfect winds for sailing, so we raised the sails and cut the engine. Evelyn loved the wind and the sails helped her slice through the building chop and seas, charging along at about 6.5 knots over ground, which is an admirable speed for our round-hulled gaffer. We sailed about twenty miles—across the sound and into the Pasquotank River—and were just about two miles south of Elizabeth City when the sky darkened and the wind switched. The northerly wind brought gustier winds and colder rain, so we lowered sails, docked as quickly as we could, lit the diesel heater and hid below by our warm fire. The heavy winds and rain—mixed with a small bit of snow—continued throughout the night, but we slept soundly in our well-protected, complimentary slip.

Great Dismal Swamp Canal by theshipsblog.com

inside the lock, Dismal Swamp Canal

We awoke to a cold, windy and gusty morning to find ice on our deck—a reminder that we were no longer in the warm, sunny climes of the far south. But we also awoke to a warm and welcome surprise: over the winter Elizabeth City, the “City of Hospitality” known for its welcoming atmosphere for cruisers and extensive free dockage, had installed and opened hot showers. For just $5, we could forget the cold rain of the day before and soak in warm water. It was a treat we were excited to take advantage of, and because we were on the early end of the migration North, we were told we were only the second couple to do so. (So they were fresh, and new, and sparkling clean!)

It was still windy when we left in the afternoon, but the Pasquotank River narrowed quickly north of Elizabeth City, and the tall trees lining the banks soon provided shelter so that the cold day felt a little bit warmer. This beautiful river meanders along into the heart of the Dismal Swamp, with vines hanging down from the towering tupelo trees. The spaces between trunks seem to create winding channels and passageways, and I imagine that the river would be delightful to explore by canoe or kayak, slowly wandering deeper and deeper into the swamp.

We reached the lock just ahead of Moonshadow and then both boats went through together, rising eight feet to be on level with the Dismal Swamp Canal. When we had passed through in November the swamp was bright with the colors of autumn—now, it was just climbing out of winter and only barely showing signs of spring. After a few miles of travel we tied up alongside Moonshadow at the Dismal Swamp Welcome Center’s courtesy docks, and prepared to enjoy a night in the sheltered canal. It was also the last evening we spent with Jake and Jenny, because the next time we passed was in thick fog and we could barely see each other.

Great Dismal Swamp

Lou and I woke the next day excited to stretch our legs—the Welcome Center is across a foot bridge from NC’s Dismal Swamp State Park, so we spent the sunny morning walking the canal paths and trails. The spongy ground of thick peat moss is fun to walk along, providing a natural bounce to one’s step while hiking. The dense tangle of growth became thicker and more impassable the further we walked away from the canal, so we were grateful for the wide paths so that we could penetrate the swamp and get a feel for its striking landscape. It takes no imagination at all to understand how easy it was for people to disappear into the swamp throughout history—it is an easy place to hide, and a hard place to be found.

We loved being in the swamp so much that we only travelled a few miles that afternoon, and spent a second night hidden inside the swamp, enjoying a walk along the canal as the sun set. That night we were officially in Virginia, and the next day would take us through the Deep Creek Lock and out of the canal, past ICW mile marker “0,” and into the Chesapeake Bay. The portion of our trip along the Intracoastal Waterway was nearly over.

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