Elizabeth City, NC to Cape May, NJ

ELIZABETH CITY, NC TO CAPE MAY, NJ

Interesting Cruising Boat

WHO NEEDS PLYMOUTH ROCK?

Ask a history buff from Elizabeth City that question and they will answer “No one in Elizabeth City”. Records indicate that European explorers sailed into the waters of the Pasquotank River, Elizabeth City's waterfront, in 1585, long before the “official” landings at Jamestown and Plymouth Rock.

Settlement didn't occur in the area until the late 1600's. After undergoing several name changes, in 1801 Elizabeth City finally got its known today name. EC survived the Civil War and with the help of the railroad arriving in 1881 and subsequent building boom EC's lumber mills prospered. Four masted schooners frequented the port, carrying goods along the eastern seaboard into the 1930's.

A U.S. Coast Guard base was established in 1938, remaining there today as the largest air station in the country. Heading up the Pasquotank River to EC's waterfront one's sight is drawn to the enormous mound-shaped structure looming over the trees along the shoreline. This is what remains of the Weeksville Naval Air Station, authorized in 1940 on the eve of WW11, to become the second blimp building station in the country. The blimps were used to provide defense against enemy submarines, escort ships and perform rescue missions. Blimps are still manufactured there by the private sector, no longer for covert operations to say the least!
Today Elizabeth City is best known for its hospitality and southern charm. Many unique and architecturally fascinating buildings still exist in the Main Street Commercial District, housing boutiques and restaurants. Late 19th century homes still exist in residential areas, all visible on walking tours, with detailed maps provided by the well run Visitors Information Center.

THE WELCOMING COMMITTEE

A Warm Welcome

We discovered Elizabeth City midday on July 20. The complimentary city docks are not readily apparent when approaching the waterfront dock area from the Pasquotank River because they are directly ahead, blending in with the seawall. So, FLUKE was motoring along very slowly, crew with binoculars in hand, trying discern exactly where we should go. A booming voice comes over the radio saying “Do you want to come into here to dock?” Well, duh, that is what we had in mind, but we didn't know who we were talking to or where we were going. That was our first introduction to Sam, the unofficial official dockmaster of the Elizabeth City waterfront and a key member of the famous “Rose Buddies” gang. The other two members are Fred and Gus. They comprise the official, but voluntary, cruisers welcoming committee for Elizabeth City complimentary docks. In addition to having a free dock for 48 hrs, ladies are given a rose, clipped from a bush growing in the waterfront park (if they are all gone, Fred gives away cotton bols, readily available from local field crops), plus answers to all your questions about staying in EC. If more than 4 boats show up, the Rose Buddies host a wine and cheese party. Sam and Gus “camp” out at the waterfront park all day, everyday. Fred (age 92) meanders through a few times a day on a golf cart, currently being occupied with trying to get the new Museum of the Albermarle, easy walking distance from the waterfront, running. They are an interesting group to say the least.
We wondered what kind of a community we were docking into when a group of 8 people gathered to watch FLUKE back her 18' beam into an 18' slip. And they are right on top of you when you pull in, elbows on the seawall rail, wondering if the fat boat is really going to fit in that slip. Sam says it will work. Pressure is on not to look like complete boating ineptitudes. Thank you for no wind and no current, and that wonderful bow thruster. We squeeze in with minimal rubbing of the rails. Many hands offer to take the stern lines to secure FLUKE to the bulkhead. The show is over, and people go about their business. This waterfront park, right in the middle of downtown, is a popular place of recreation and relaxation for the locals. Many friendly and curious people continue to stop by throughout the next couple of days to ask questions about FLUKE and our travels.

Fluke at Elizabeth City Dock

PARROTMAN AND THE DRUNK

Two regular characters to the bench off our stern I dubbed Parrotman and the Drunk. Parrotman showed up in the afternoons on a bicycle, with Pickles, his Yellowed Naped Amazon parrot, clinging to the handlebars. After propping his bike on the lamp post, PM would take Pickles over to the drinking fountain and turn the fountain on full blast and let Pickles bathe in the arcing stream of water. Then PM would place Pickles on a couple of sticks that PM had stood on his bicycle to tie high up on the lamp post. PM would sit on the bench for several hours watching the sites and talking to anyone who happened by. He always had lots of questions for me. Even Pickles would say Hi to me.
PM was one of those men, who women always joke about, that wore a mismatching plaid shirt and different type of plaid pair of shorts. Plus, he wore a stripped railroad engineer's hat. So, he and Pickles reminded me of a clown act in the circus! However, when PM spoke he was articulate, well versed on community and current events, and seemingly well-read. Talking to him was pleasant, other than he usually had more questions about life than I had, so it was difficult to be able to end a conversation with him.
The Drunk was a man of very bronzed complexion with piercing dark blue eyes – I guessed he must do some type of outside work. He showed up in late afternoon, neat and cleanly dressed, with a bag containing a bottle and sat on the same bench with PM. He was a chatterbox, but his extreme southern accent alone made understanding him somewhat difficult and as the afternoon went on and the bottle went lower his language became more difficult to understand, although he seemed happy about everything he said. When I came back from a late afternoon walk with Ursa I asked them if they wanted to see Ursa do her tricks. They were both animal lovers and readily replied “of course”. Ursa proceeded to impress them with her litany of tricks, drawing other passerbys' attentions – just like the circus I envisioned. The Drunk asked if she could shake hands with him, so I gave him a treat to give to Ursa and pulled her near to him. She succeeded, despite the slurred command (fortunately she is trained by sign too for most of her tricks, so putting his hand low was probably enough without having to hear the words). She then proceeded to jump up on his bench and take a sniff of the bottle! The Drunk quickly retracted his booty and said “I'm not sharing my bottle with a dog!”. I didn't want Ursa's lips on it anyway.

HUNTERS AND GATHERERS

We are always on the lookout for fresh produce, since it is usually a while before we have access to land to even try to find any and that's what we use first. We went on a 5 mile roundtrip bike ride to the outer part of town to visit a Walmart to pick up some computer software we couldn't find in downtown. A man was selling cantaloupes from the back of a pick-up truck, so we bought one. I had it in the basket on the front of the bike and hit a bump and the whole basket flipped off the handlebars, dumping the melon on the sidewalk. Fortunately it didn't roll out into traffic or break open. No one said the hunt would be easy. To assuage my frustration over the melon incident, we stopped at City Sweets in the old downtown and got an ice cream cone (always a favorite amongst cruisers) and a couple of hand-dipped chocolate covered strawberries. Sugar – life is good. What melon?
Having spent the majority of the afternoon away from the boat, we decided to infuse some more money into the local economy by ordering a pizza. There is free WiFi at the docks, so we thought it would be a good idea to support the pizza business that was advertising on the WiFi. Plus, they offered free delivery. I called the number and told the girl taking the order what I wanted. She said she needed a phone number, so I proceeded to tell her our cell phone number, but she said she had to have a local number. I explained that we were on a boat, to which she replied “Well, don't you know anyone in town?” I said “I've gotten to be pretty friendly with 3 old men on the dock, but they haven't given me their phone numbers”. She said she couldn't place the order without a local number and asked exactly where I was. I told her I could see the sign belonging to the restaurant next door, which she was familiar with, so she decided to use its phone number and told me she would put me on hold while she looked it up in the phone book. Just a new twist to the hunt – the pizza was great!

GETTING FROM HERE TO THERE

If you are traveling by boat and want to get from Norfolk, VA, where the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway begins at mile 0, to North Carolina you can take one of two routes: the Dismal Swamp Canal or the Albemarle and Chesapeake Canal. The DSC is traveled primarily by recreational boaters, for reasons which will become apparent as you read further, while the ACC is used more by commercial craft, boaters in a hurry, or boaters of more careful nature. We, being of adventurous nature, decided to take the DSC route. Note: the DSC route recommends boats not draw more than 6' to safely transit the waterway; FLUKE draws 5.5'.

WARNING SIGNS

The Pasquotank River connects Elizabeth City to the south lock of the Dismal Swamp Canal. For the most part, the river is very scenic, gracefully winding with a well-marked deep water channel. The shoreline is lined with beautiful, old stands of cypress, gum, and other hardwoods and looks much like some of the swamp lands we encountered farther south. When you get closer to the DSC, a dredged, straight, narrow waterway replaces the natural river. The shoreline is not as stable as that created by Mother Nature, and the continual beating by boat wakes further adds to its instability. During the summer months a lot of vine growth covers the overhanging trees, adding even more weight to their limbs. Summer thunderstorms can bring a lot of wind and rain, enough to give precariously perched trees their final push into the river. We didn't know that when we embarked on our voyage, this the 22nd day of July 2006.
After about 2 hours, we turned off the natural course of the river and entered the straight channel. In the distance it looked like a tree was down in the water, but it was difficult to see how much it was actually obstructing the waterway. As we got closer, it was apparent the very large pine tree was newly fallen and was blocking about 90% of the waterway. Fortunately, a small local tour boat was coming up behind us. We idled down until the tour boat was at our stern and we told the captain we needed help to determine if we could get around the fallen tree. He took Eddie on board and went around the tree to determine water depth along the shoreline and to see if our pilothouse could clear the overhanging branches. Water depth was fine; we picked up a lot of debris from the overhanging limbs and only one scratch on an antenna. The tourists on the boat were thrilled to be involved in an “assistance at sea” maneuver.
We cautiously motored onward; a bald eagle swooped down across our bow and led the way around the bend to the south lock of the Dismal Swamp Canal.

Trouble on the Pasquotank

THE DISMAL SWAMP CANAL

Beginning the Dismal Adventure

The DSC is the oldest operating artificial waterway in the U.S. It is designated as a National Historic Civil Engineering Landmark and entered into the National Register of Historic Places. Its history includes tales of presidents, explorers, writers, scholars, and slavery.
In 1728 Colonel William Byrd II of Virginia returned from a survey trip of the Dismal Swamp region. Despite, coining the area as “dismal” because he and his crew were constantly tormented by yellow flies, ticks, and chiggers, Byrd recognized the potential in being able to connect the sounds of North Carolina with the tidewater areas of Virginia to safely move goods back and forth. However, it wasn't until after the Revolutionary War that enough other people also realized the value a canal would have in helping to make the new country grow and prosper by moving goods along that north/south route.
In 1793, construction began on both ends of the canal. Since it had to be dug almost entirely by hand, using slave labor hired from nearby landowners, progress was slow and expensive. Numerous problems and other proposals to alternate routes of transportation prevented the canal from opening until 1805. When it finally opened, it was so shallow, only flat boats and log rafts could use it, and they had to be manually towed or poled through. This was a big disappointment to canal owners, farmers, lumbermen, and other merchants who had envisioned the canal as a great trade route. Maintenance costs and problems with the water levels led the canal to fall into disrepair and be sold. Private ownership continued to fail until finally in 1925 the U.S. Congress authorized purchase of the DSC. In 1974, Congress established the Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge. Then, the water needs of the swamp took priority over the navigational needs of the canal. Today, the canal is maintained to a depth of 6'. The locks at either end of the canal keep the canal 8' above the surrounding waterways. If the water level in Lake Drummond, the main source of water for the canal falls too low, water cannot drain into the canal and the canal is shut down to transportation. The costs of maintaining the canal remain high: cleaning the bottom of the canal, maintenance of locks and bridges, and shoreline maintenance. Such costs are questionable to justify keeping the canal navigable for large cruiser type boat traffic.

THE VOTE WAS UNANIMOUS

Fluke's 32 mile voyage through the DSC got off to a slow start with a 30 minute wait for the south lock to open. After we locked through, we immediately dropped below 2' on our depth gage, which has an audible alarm set for depths less than 2', so we just turned off the alarm and visually watched the gage. If we dropped below 2', the plan was to idle down, shift into neutral and just coast. Judging by all the overhanging vegetation, rotting logs along the shoreline, logs tied off to the shore, and debris in the water, it was reasonable to assume that there was also the same stuff lying on the bottom. Plus, we had been warned by other boaters and all the literature we read said “Proceed with Caution”. I can't tell you how many times, they were so numerous, we just coasted. We “touched” objects at least a dozen times and dodged debris too many times to count.

FLUKE at NC Welcome Center

It was 4 miles from the first lock to the North Carolina Welcome Station, a site shared by boaters on the DSC and travelers on Route 17. The complimentary dock can hold a couple of boats for an overnight stay, and that was our plan. I think those 4 miles were the longest we've ever had on any boat we've ever been on. Just getting used to coasting and hearing thumps on the hull, and hoping nothing was getting hung up in our running gear or stabilizers, aged us 10 years.
The Welcome Station is a nice facility with lots of written literature about places to visit in NC, a NC field crop demonstration garden, and a beautiful picnic area. It is site of a 4.5 bike path that winds along the banks of the DSC to a little town called South Mills. We biked the whole loop in the late afternoon to help relieve the anxiety from the morning's travel.
Just as we returned to FLUKE a couple walked up and started up a conversation; they had been live-aboards at one time, based in the Chesapeake. They were nice enough to go over charts with us, giving us a much-needed overview of the cruising area, making useful suggestions on where we could anchor.

Formidable Passage Through the DSC

We got an early start the next morning, anticipating another arduous day of dodging and coasting. It turned out that the first 4 miles proved to be the worst, not that the rest were easy going. We were thankful that we didn't see another boat in the DSC the entire 2 days, as we would have had to undergo some tight maneuvers to let another boat pass by our fat gem.
If we hadn't taken the DSC I would have always wondered, and probably whined, about wanting to do it. However, having now done it, we all agreed that we will not do it again. The scenery and solitude are nice, but they are no better than several other places we have traveled this 2006 Voyage North. Plus, the risk to the boat is too great to justify that transit. One scenario that frequently crossed our minds, as we passed so many precariously perched large trees on obviously unstable banks, was what would we do if we had to pass another newly fallen tree with no one else around? It could be several days before a crew could be mobilized to move the obstruction. Then we would have no choice but to wait, through who knows how many thunderstorms or else turn around and go all the way back to Elizabeth City, with more downed trees possibly in our path. Leave the DSC for small power boats, kayaks, and canoes.

FROM NOTHING TO EVERYTHING

On July 23 we thankfully exited the north lock of the DSC, ran a short while in the southern branch of the Elizabeth River and plop!, we were in the middle of everything. So much commercial shipping activity and industrial sites along the shore. Lots of noise, steel, concrete, and bustling of boats and machinery. We followed a tug and got through all the bridges of the Norfolk and Portsmouth, VA areas without ever having to stop and wait. It was interesting to see all the docked Naval vessels and freighters up close, and difficult not to get too distracted from our own navigational needs.

Thimble Shoals Light-Welcome to the Chesapeake

We passed over the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel and declared ourselves as having finally arrived in The Chesapeake! We cruised up to Mobjack Bay, entered into Put-in-Creek and set the anchor. The surrounding land had a few farms, single family homes of various styles and ages and lots of trees. It was peaceful and welcoming. I was mesmerized by the scores of jellyfish floating in and out of the depths all around FLUKE. Coming from FL, it was puzzling how there could be so much water and not be able to go swimming because of all the jellyfish. The next morning we waited to exit our anchorage while a crew team, with men and women rowers in 1, 2, and 4 person shells rowed by with their coach traveling in a small skiff booming out orders over a bull horn.

SO MANY CHOICES, TOO LITTLE TIME

Over the next few days it became easy to see why so many cruisers spend summer after summer in the Chesapeake. There are more places to cruise than can be counted. Getting around is fairly easy, with well-marked channels, deep water, and good facilities for marinas, restaurants, and boatyards. There are tourist places to visit to learn about history and nature. We had to take our notes for future reference, as August 1 was just around the corner, and we still needed to head further north to visit family and friends. We dropped our hook at Sandy Point, in the Wicomico River, our last day in VA. We stayed two nights at anchor up Mills Creek in Solomons MD.
I've been writing most of this section of the Great Voyage of 2006 while we have been underway (and I haven't had helm duty), since 5:45 a.m., leaving from the Sassafras River, just south of the C & D Canal, which connects the Chesapeake Bay to Delaware Bay. We have spent the day staying just outside the main shipping channel as large freighters and commercial ships have passed us in both directions, destinations for them could be any of several major ports accessed by this route: all of those in the Chesapeake (Baltimore, Annapolis, Norfolk), up the Potomoc, and up to Philadephia.

Miah Maull Shoal Light in Delaware Bay

Our destination on this the 28th day of July 2006 is a marina in Cape May, where we will dock for the night, finally hose down FLUKE, get to do laundry, and presumably post this section to the internet for those of you who are vicariously cruising with us.
We need to get rested up for the next leg of the voyage, out to the Atlantic Ocean, into New York Harbor, and into Long Island Sound.

Cape May Ferry Dock along the Cape May Canal

Waccamaw River, SC to Elizabeth City, NC

(Please note that I finally got photos added to previous post, remember you can click on them to see larger sizes)

LAND HO!

Well, we made it the marina near Murrells Inlet, and I should have sent out the first installment of this epic journey, but technical difficulties interfered. I have no idea when I will be able to post in the future. If you have signed up for the long version, not realizing it was going to be comparable to Homer's Odyssey, and don't wish to have to tie up your disk space, please ask to be transferred to the short version or press delete. I bet no one ever said that to Homer!

FLUKE at Wacca Wache Marina dock

We had FLUKE tied up to the Wacca Wachee Marina dock right after lunch, in hopes of maximizing our stay at the dock. We were the only transient vessel there in our size range, so there was plenty of room. It was a good thing that it wasn't a weekend, this being July 12, as there were a lot of boats and a lot of wakes, and we didn't have much protection. Plus, there was barely enough water at our dock to keep off the bottom at low tide. We made do with the situation and plugged into shore power and cranked the ACs on low to dry out the boat from all the humidity we had acquired going through the swamps. Our pump and a package from our mail service arrived in mid-afternoon, too late to start the installation. E & C washed the outside of the boat, trying to get off the plough residue, salt spray, swamp slime, etc. W went through the mail and caught up on paperwork. We rewarded ourselves by dining out at the Boondocks Grill, located at the marina. The name aptly describes the location, and the atmosphere is casual to say the least. As a result, the restaurant can get away with their motto, “Shut the Duck Up”. No, we didn't buy one of the license plates to display the motto in civilized locations.

WHAT EVER HAPPENED TO QUALITY CONTROL?

The morning of July 13 was spent on a 10 mile (roundtrip) bike trip to go to the P.O., grocery store, West Marine, and Home Depot. When we got back it was time to call for a pump out of the holding tank, always a potentially exciting event, generally of the unpleasant nature.The dock hand shows up with the hose to connect to the suction fitting that was sticking out of the dock next to the boat, and it wasn't long enough to reach the fitting on our boat, so we had to pull FLUKE backwards. I asked the guy if it was going to work, and he said it was the first time that suction valve had been used, since all the other docks had had theirs already done, and our dock was the last one to get the new system. He assured me that his 5200 suction pump was the strongest on the market and the city of Detroit kept their city dry with them. OK. We managed to get everything hooked up, he turned the on valve and then his fitting going into our deck promptly broke, spilling raw sewer on the foredeck and down the side. Two more hoses, and E figuring out what the problem with his fitting was, finally got us pumped out. The 5200 did the job! We ate lunch at the dock and then took the boat a short ways up the river to what we thought was a suitable anchorage-it was just an offshoot of the river, very scenic. I could look at cypress trees and knees all day. I think the colors and shapes are so fascinating. They can live for 600 years and their heartwoood is rot resistant. Bald cypress are also indicators of the salinity of the water; they can tolerate brackish water, but cannot live in salty water.

Swamp Beauties of the Waccamaw River

W & E decided to install the new washdown pump, only to find out that the new one leaks around the shaft, probably has to do with some seals. Typical. A call to the company and conversation with the “engineer” confirms the theory and he will ship out the seals. Like, how are they going to be delivered, by Alligator Express?! W just tells him we will have to figure out when we can conveniently go to land again and let him know a future shipping date. W & E do a necropsy on the old pump to try to figure out how they will install the new seals once we get them.

ALWAYS FEAR GETTING YOUR CAPE WET

Life in the peaceful swamp took a tumultuous turn very early on this, the 14th day of July, 2006. The crew rose early to try to make the 80 mile run to get to what we thought looked like a safe anchorage. When W & E were preparing to drop the stern anchor line, FLUKE shifted, the anchor line went taught, and W, who was holding the line, was actually propelled into the eerily dark water in belly flop fashion; the noise of his impact with the water shattered the calm stillness and silence of the swamp. He scrambled out of the water onto the swim platform quicker than the nearest alligator could say “Did someone say dinner?” Shortly after that, FLUKE drifted over the stern line float (we were battling some current), and we waited a half hour trying to decide if someone should go in the water to try to free the line, not sure what it was hung up on. Happily, the float appeared and was quickly hauled aboard. As soon as we pulled up the bow anchor and made the turn into the main channel, the rising sun blinded us, not helped by the film of dirt on the inside of the pilothouse window. We just couldn't see at all, a real bad feeling in strange narrow waters, with current, and a 60,000 lb. boat to move. We were lucky no other boats were around as we scrambled to clean the window and make slow headway on this day that we needed to move more swifltly and the Rock Pile was still to come.

The Rock Pile is a 19 mile section of the waterway that is cut through fossiliferous limestone. It took 2 years to blast through this section, and not wanting to spend any more effort to comfortably widen it, it was built with the narrowest of margins. When transiting one extra narrow 3 mile section, boaters issue a securité call to to find out if any oncoming commercial traffic will be using the area at the same time-there wouldn't be enough room to safely pass a tug and barge. We went through the Rock Pile at the lowest of tide, so it was easy to see the rock ledges and stay well clear of them. It would be treacherous to hit those cement-like rocks with any part of the boat.

Close Shore of the Rockpile

We did have to deal with one more dinosaur though, the pontoon bridge at Sunset Beach. It is the last one in the whole country. From the photos you can see that the bridge literally floats on the surface of the water and at designated times via cables, is pulled off to the side so boats can pass through.

Sunset Beach Pontoon Bridge waiting to open for boat traffic


Sunset Beach Pontoon Bridge almost open for boat traffic

ICW House

We happily passed into North Carolina and prepared to deal with our next navigational challenge: the Cape Fear River. The name itself suggest there could be trouble for the careless or unlucky mariner. Through the centuries Cape Fear has been responsible for turning sea lovers back to land lubbers, living and dead. Some of the most dangerous shoals along the entire Atlantic coast run for upwards of 30 miles out to sea from Cape Fear. Look at a map and see where the Atlantic Ocean can come full force right up the Cape Fear River, which we had to cross over to continue on our journey. On this day, King Neptune granted us safe passage with minimal winds and a favorable tide; we rocked and rolled a bit, but FLUKE held the course steady and we went onward.Carolina Beach basin was our intended anchorage.

We sucked sand from the bottom to get into the basin on a low tide. Our cruising guide indicated holding could be poor, which proved to be true. From the bow, we tried setting the Delta twice, then switched over to the Super Max (you would think an anchor with a name like that would be good for anything), which was much inferior to the Delta, so we switched back to the Delta. We had the Fortress set off the stern. I can't even begin to tell you how much mud was on the deck (E has taken to calling it black paint), having brought those anchors up and down so many times. Still not satisfied with the holding, but seeing 7:00 p.m. on the clock, we evaluated the risks we posed to others and ourselves, set the anchor alarm, and decided to sleep with one ear open all night and called it a long, long day.

MILITARY HOUSING

Due to a tight fit, and position of FLUKE, it was time consuming getting both anchors up without running aground. Right after we managed to get underway, having taken to cleaning that lousy mud off the boat with a pressure washer using our valuable tank water, the handle on the pressure washer broke as E was carrying it waist high. The full force of the p.w. hit the deck and chipped it, then bounced up and landed on E's instep. Justifiably so, as evidenced by the swelling, E spent the next 3 days trying to gather sympathy points for the injury. We all must suffer for the Cause. We anchored two nights (needing more rest and to do FLUKE chores) at a spot known as Mile Hammock Bay, located on Camp LeJeune property.

Mile Hammock Bay at Camp LeJeune

The military lets the public use the man-made basin to anchor, but boaters cannot go ashore. Military personnel do use the shoreline, with a gigantic ramp area and lots of dock footage, to launch boats and fish.The basin was dredged during WWII so that the marines could practice amphibious landings. The threat of German U-boats offshore prohibited them from using the beach itself. So, a full-scale mock up was made of a troop transport ship so the trainees could practice climbing up and down the netting wearing a full set of gear. Today, a rusting marine landing craft is tied to the dock; by its looks, it seaworthiness is definitely questionable. Camp LeJeune covers 246 square miles and is home to 50,000 marines and navy personnel. It has 89 maneuver areas, 25 tactical landing zones, and 54 live-fire ranges, which would affect our progress when we got underway.

IN THE LINE OF FIRE

On this, the 17th day of July we have our first foggy morning. Fortunately, the sun is bright and the channel is narrow, so there aren't a lot of places we can get into trouble. Our electronic charts help guide us where the fog is thick and visibility is poor. However, up ahead, still being on base property, we will have to pass through a live fire range during a 5 mile stretch of our route. I had called the Coast Guard yesterday to find out if there would be live firing going on which would close the waterway for up to 1 hour. The CG replied that we should watch for the light signals and an armed patrol boat would prohibit our passage anyway. We luck out, no blockade is in force, and we move onward through the battlefield. It is interesting seeing the targets: old pieces of various types of military equipment, riddled with thousands of bullet holes. I wonder how far away they are when they are having live firing practice and aiming right across the waterway on which we are traveling.

Live Fire Range at Camp LeJeune; note stop lights

ABDUCTED BY ALIENS ?

We had a short travel day to get to Belhaven, N.C. on July 18. We decided to try to go to land to send and receive email at the public library and go to the grocery store. Belhaven has a reputation as being a boater friendly town, little did we realize how well deserved that would turn out to be.Belhaven sprung up in the late 1800's around the lumber and grain industries. Now the town of 2000 residents is trying to tap into the waterfront craze of development (its potential for success being questionable), losing much of its old charm. Development is the biggest industry we have seen along the waterway since leaving the home dock. The faces of the waterfront towns are really changing, the new pushing out the old.When we finished at the library, after drastically over-extending our allotted time on one of their 4 slow computers (the librarian said we could have more time as long as no one was waiting), we were walking down Main street (the other main roadway is called Water street), headed to the outskirts of town to go grocery shopping. A car with a woman driver pulled over next to us and asked us if we were going to the grocery store. She said she was, and had driven by us, turned around and came back to ask us if we wanted a ride! We were so flabbergasted that she would do this-where we come from we would be lucky to have one of our neighbors take the time and make the effort to pull off the road and offer to give us a ride. She introduced herself as the town clerk and told us a little bit about Belhaven and her life growing up there.

Shortly after we left the grocery store and were walking along the road, a man with a pick-up truck pulled off the opposite side of the road, going in our direction and asked if we were going to the public dock and would we like a ride. We piled into the back of his truck, shook our heads again and figured we must have anchored on another planet.We helped the Belhaven economy by taking on 650 gallons of diesel fuel for $1750.00.

On this the 20th day of July 2006 I am writing this real time, before my shift at the helm begins. We hope to go ashore later today in Elizabeth City, N.C. We will try to post this update of the journey and some photos. Leaving there we will try to traverse through the shallow Dismal Swamp and move on into Virginia.

Elizabeth City, NC Welcome Sign

We are tied up at the complimentary dock at Elizabeth City. We were greeted and helped into a tight slip by the very friendly and helpful "Rose Buddies" started by Fred Fearing in 1983. He is 92 now and rides around in his golf cart and gives a rose to each lady on board. The town also has free Wi-Fi which I am using to update the blog and upload photos to flickr. See http://flickr.com/photos/wb4us for all our uploaded photos.

Vero Beach, FL TO Waccamaw River, SC

FLUKE'S 2006 Journey North

If you followed our adventures in the Bahamas you know that we arrived back in Vero May 31 with the idea that we would have a couple of weeks to get things in order to make the trip to what we hoped at that time would be Maine.

The Bahamas Shake Up Shake Down cruise revealed that we needed to revamp our electrical system to make it designed for us to be able to anchor out the majority of the time, unlike FLUKE'S previous cruising life which was spent primarily at docks. So, we took care of that with just time (almost a month) and money ($12,000), both of which we felt we really couldn't afford. We added another $800 worth of food to make the boat sit lower in the water, burn even more high priced fuel, and decided to cast the lines from the home dock and hit the waterway.

As the shuttle Discovery was scrubbed on July 1, so was our departure day as the marine electrical technician had to work until 7:00 pm on June 30 to finish our job, and we just couldn't up and leave the next morning without testing some of his work.

VERO BEACH, FL TO WACCAMAW RIVER, SC

RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME-HERE WE COME TOM, SAWYER THAT IS!

We managed to leave after lunch on July 2, better than waiting until July 3. We dropped anchor at 7:00 p.m. south of the 520 Cocoa Beach causeway. We had to weave through a large number of crab traps - they were everywhere off the ICW. It was either the crab trap area or else having to weave between several spoil areas (they were underwater), so at least we could see the traps and not run aground on the unseen spoil areas. This area is near Tropical Trail on Merritt Island. As the name suggests, the area really does look tropical and is very beautiful with dense foliage. As dusk was approaching Wayne asked me what was the noise coming from the land that sounded like howler monkeys! When I listened closely I realized the loud cawing sounds were those of peacocks calling to each other. Those sounds put us to sleep, this the first night of our journey.

MAN VS NATURE

Birds Along the Waterway

On July 3 we had the anchor up by 06:50 and were back on the waterway. Our original intent was to head out the Canaveral Barge Canal and make a run out in the ocean to Charleston. However, we and FLUKE weren't ready: we were pretty tired to do an overnight crossing in the ocean and a lot of things still hadn't been properly stowed or secured on the boat. Plus, we would have some restrictions to deal with in going through the Launch Hazard Area (LHA) which is established for space craft launches originating from Cape Canaveral. The LHA extends all around the Space Center as well as out into the ocean, restricting all vessels from entering the area for a certain time period before and after launches. The Coast Guard maintains watch and continuously posts notices to mariners on the VHF.

The inside passage is just fine for boats who travel slowly anyway, as evidenced by the grand day we had. We were traveling through the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, which the Space Center sits on. It is a birders dream. We saw many wading birds, two of my favorite species being Roseate Spoonbills and Reddish Egrets, the former with bright pink plumage contrasting to the almost chartreuse green of the marsh grass and the latter with its mauve colored plumage and dancing feeding strategy.

When going through the Haulover Barge Canal (manmade) which connects the Indian River Lagoon to the Mosquito Lagoon, we saw several manatees, some of which were mating causing them to come up very far out of the water.

We were able to see the VAB at the Space Center with the colorful NASA logo and gigantic American flag. The space shuttle Discovery was visible on its launch pad, its majesty of size and power being muted by the shimmering waves of heat rising off Mosquito Lagoon and the stillness of nature's beauty all around.

We were anxious to find a place to anchor for the night as it was the holiday weekend, and we were worried that spaces would be limited, especially because the destination we had in mind was near Daytona Beach, a place called Rockhouse Creek (a tributary of Ponce Inlet). Many tributaries of the main waterway have strange names, whose origins may probably only be known by ancient locals. I will be using such names as FLUKE finds safe havens during the move northward.

Rockhouse Creek (Ponce Inlet)

Space was limited, but at least most of the couple of hundred boats around the area were day boats who had beached themselves for swimming and picnics. We set our bow anchor, but were in a narrow, swiftly flowing channel which we knew would would have a current change totally in the opposite direction once the tide changed which necessitated we put out a stern anchor too.

Since space for maneuverability was limited, Eddie volunteered to take our stern anchor out and set it by hand. Navy Seals are trained to carry 35 lbs in the water without complaining. Eddie was never in ANY branch of the military, much less a Seal, so we needed a plan to minimize his complaints and maximize his efficiency. We rigged up 2 life preservers and tied the anchor to them. Eddie, a.k.a. as Lloyd Bridges, donned his flippers for extra power against the strong current and left the ship. Unfortunately, he couldn't get as far as we liked, but we decided to make do as he was quickly running out of thrust. Man wins that battle with nature, but we were soundly defeated the following morning as we were eaten alive by millions of no-see-ums as we pulled up the anchor.

Mosaic Tiles on Bridge in Daytona Beach

Man's engineering skills were showcased as we passed through the ornately decorated Bridge of Lions in St. Augustine (said to be the most beautiful bridge on the ICW), saw the temporary bridge underconstruction (it will be used while the BoL is getting a makeover), passed by Castillo de San Marcos, the fort built by the Spanish in 1672 to defend their city, and saw the space shuttle Discovery launch into the sky all within minutes on this, our nation's birthday, July 4, 2006!

Passing Through the Old and New Bridges in St. Augustine

The fort's walls and grounds were covered with people cheering and clapping with their eyes to the sky, real witnesses to contrasts in time and technology. We had to carefully pass a large barge laden with fireworks anchored off the fort which would provide a grand finale to an exciting day. The ghosts of those proud Spaniards of time past were pleased with what they had started! FLUKE rested that night in the open marsh lands north of St. Augustine where we could see fireworks in the distant clear night sky, but still experience the solitude of nature.

St. Augustine Lighthouse

The Shrimp Fleet in Fernandina Beach, FL

CHECKING ON YOUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK

Wild Horses at Dungeness Ruins

Finally we go ashore at one of my longed for destinations - Cumberland Island National Seashore. The island is only accessible by boat and has no paved roads. It is a nature lover's paradise. We managed to anchor and get to shore by 5:00 p.m., a time that turned out to be in our favor for wildlife viewing. We saw many of the wild horses that inhabit the island. They are descendants of what were called marsh tackies, work horses that were let loose to roam the marshes to freely graze during the winter and then rounded up in the spring and fall to use for farming. In the 1920s a trainload of wild mustangs was relocated from Arizona and released and the offspring of the genetic mixing of those 2 groups still roam the island wilds today.

We also saw armadillos, deer, and a large flock of wild turkeys with the longest waddles I've ever seen! It isn't just the wildlife that is so appealing: the vegetation is just outstanding, from the maritime forest composed of towering Spanish moss draped oak trees to the hilly dunes with their wiry and windswept coastal plants that give way to the grand expanse of the open seashore and Atlantic Ocean.

The Dunes of Cumberland Island, GA

If you don't want to try to trudge through the soft sand of the dunes, sturdy boardwalks take you over marsh and wetlands and let you see the dramatic landscapes of the coastal tidal plains and the creatures that inhabit them.

Where the Marsh Meets the Dunes, Cumberland Island

Wayne, Eddie, and FLUKE (in background) at Cumberland Island

Resting at the Ranger Station, Cumberland Island

The ruins of Dungeness Plantation, a stately mansion from society's yesteryear, that belonged to the brother of industrialist Andrew Carnegie, is fascinating to visit. The huge, stately magnolia trees with their extremely fragrant blossoms add a magical touch to the air to really make you feel like being back in time, expecting to see a horse-drawn carriage coming up to the grand entrance gate of the mansion.

Technology and Nature Meet, Cumberland Island

We knew we weren't back in time though when we heard the rat-tat-tat of the Coast Guard chopper flying low overhead with a coastguardsman leaning out the open door with a pair of binoculars carefully checking us out as we peered overhead from our little haven, FLUKE. Then we saw the armed gunboats go racing by and heard the chatter on the VHF about the navy "vessel" entering the St. Mary's inlet right in front of where we anchored. Silently from around the corner of the inlet, the sleek gigantic nuclear submarine slid slowly into view. We watched in wonder as the sub passed and waited for its wake to rock us back and forth. Kings Bay Submarine Base was just around the corner from where we rested. The night sky glowed from the lights of the base, and we knew, or thought, Homeland Security was keeping us safe.

BY JOVE, THAT WAS TOO CLOSE!

Fortunately we planned to get a late start pulling up anchor to catch an incoming tide through St. Andrews Sound to give us a smoother ride and more water for the shallow crossing. We were delayed from moving because another nuclear sub came in the inlet, and we were going to go by the sub base and couldn't use the waterway until the area was declared clear. We had a short day to another anchorage in the middle of a marsh called Jove Creek. We hurried to set the anchors in place as the sky was darkening quickly with a fast-approaching thunderstorm. Eddie, now taking another moniker, Grillmaster, was off the hook for having to grill the pork tenderloin that was on the menu as we wanted to have more controlled cooking on the grill rather than a quick jolt from a bolt. We just sat out in the open with the lightening bolts spearing down around us (maybe it really is Jove's creek and we weren't welcome).

The next morning, we got a call from another cruising boat we had been talking to for the last couple of days who had anchored south of us and from their vantage point it looked like we could have been hit by lightening. Thank you, not us, this time, but it is always a possibility. As long as you can hear the thunder, you are still OK!

The salt water washdown ceased operating right as we raised the second anchor. Upon investigation into the forward hold (which I refer to as the sewer since that's where the holding tank is), Wayne had to quickly grab a fire extinguisher as the washdown pump was really smoking. We should have known a problem was pending as we had noticed a small leak in it the day before. Relatively speaking, by boating standards, leaks are better than fires, but neither is really great and remedies can be costly and time consuming. After the pump, and we, cooled down, we got all the info off the label of the pump and called the manufacturer to find out about availability of getting a replacement. One was available, so on this, July 7, the 5th day into our voyage we were faced with our first major expense. BOAT (Break Out Another Thousand) proved itself to be true again as the replacement pump is $900 and we will have to go to a marina (we made arrangements to have it sent to a marina in SC we think we can get to in 4-5 days) to get the part and make the repair. We will be able to do this ourselves, as we do most repairs, or else we couldn't afford to have FLUKE and pay someone else to tend to her delicate needs. So, we pulled into Moon River (near Skidaway Island) for the night and added more salt to our wounds by taking 1.5 hrs to set the 2 anchors. Life was not peaceful like the song tonight. But, yes,Eddie had to grill the tenderloin anyway! The crew needs to eat.

Bringing up the anchors without a washdown pump was a dark nightmare. The stuff on the bottom isn't really mud - it's a malodorous sulfurous jello-like jet black goo called plough (pronounced pluff).That name was coined by planters of the 1800s who realized the value of it as a nutrient-rich material that they could harvest and spread over their cotton fields. FLUKE wasn't in need of any vitamin supplements, but had an overdose as the chain was hauled up and the goo oozed slowly over her foredeck, down the sides, on us and other private places. We had to haul up bucket after bucket of water (the deck is 10' up, so that's heavy lifting!) and use a brush to clean the chain 3' at a time. We couldn't put the chain in the locker (sits right above the bed!) and run the risk of having a site to rival the real sewer. It took 45 minutes to get the chain situated and longer to get the deck cleaned. Sulfur smell permeated the boat the entire day, and no matter how many times I washed my hands I thought I could still smell the goo.

FLUKE pressed onward, leaving a stinking plume in her wake, or so I envisioned. Things brightened up as we passed the old, beautiful waterfront homes outside of Savannah with their fascinating architecture and beautiful grounds. One home had a collection of hydrangeas that reminded me of a floral rainbow. It could not have been a coincidence that the fully-headed blossom colors were in order from white, to pale pink, to darker pink to hues of blues and finally deep purple.

The Intracoastal Waterway visual prize near Savannah has to go to Bonaventure Cemetery, the one made famous in both the book and the movie, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. The Victorian statues, ornate tombs, obelisks, and sundry other grave markers sit amidst towering ancient oaks laden with gently swaying sprays of Spanish Moss, probably hiding the secrets of the permanent residents below. Dating back to the Civil War, this sprawling piece of picturesque waterfront real estate looks more like a park for people to enjoy the serene atmosphere and appreciate the beauty of man and nature than morn those who are buried there.

FLUKE slowly continued onward with July 8 steadily improving over its "black" morning. The day passes quickly, even at our usual slow speed of 6-8 knots, as there is so much to see and chores to tend to. Sights change and conversations strike up wondering what we are seeing on shore or on the waterway. What island has 2 gigantic water towers that only say 1-800-MARINES? Parris Island (opened 1891), home of the Parris Island Marine Corps Recruit Depot where 19,000 recruits train each year. Not far down the river is Beaufort (pronounced Bew-furt), dating back to the 1700's, with so much southern charm still apparent today. For more pop culture trivia fanatics, the movies Forrest Gump, The Great Santini, and The Big Chill were filmed here. Shrimp boats abound, and even if you don't like shrimp, you must have liked Forrest, so you can't help but be interested in this setting. Brickyard Creek is our home for tonight, a stone's throw from someone's dock, so close I can have a conversation with the owner of the home who brings her young son down to see the "ships".

The Crew Checking the Anchor at Brickyard Creek

ROBBERS ON THE MARSH

It is on this day of July 9 that I will first begin writing the "long" version of the journey. We are floating around the busy Charleston Harbor, right by Fort Sumter, many dolphins on the bow, dodging numerous sailboats, and having to wait a whole hour for a bridge that only opens on the hour, and we just missed the hour mark. So, we are at least lucky that the weather is decent and we aren't getting knocked around like corks during the delay. Since I don't have helm duty, I can finally start my text with the intent to finish before we make the stop at the marina in a few days so this can be sent. My crewmates continuously interrupt my thoughts - it is a wonder I can get this done at all!

We make the next bridge opening on time, despite having to creep through some real shallow water. We drop our hooks right off Dewees Island in the creek by the same name. Dewees Island is a private development that is only accessible by water, and the residents have a private charmingly constructed ferry to take them and their belongings back and forth to the mainland. They get around the island by golf carts, some of which are pretty snazzy from my observations through the binoculars as we are anchored near the ferry dock, just a stone's throw from the cart storage area. Plus, it appears a lot of residents leave their carts right by the ferry dock. The well-treed island sits alone in an expanse of golden marsh grass on most sides, with a small inlet and beach coastline on the rest. There are golf courses in the middle. As the sun fades slowly in the west, I see the marsh bandits pop up their masked faces and begin their evening task of searching for food. Two of them are very close to the dumpster bins, and I'm sure those wealthy residents deposit some fine morsels in those, easy to open bins, a couple of which have already been blown over by the wind. Raccoons have to eat too: one man's junk, is a raccoon's treasure.

THAT ISN'T A LOG!

We spent most of the day inhaling mud off the bottom; the water was so shallow and we were on a falling tide. The look of the marsh land is beginning to change a bit now; there are some different types of vegetation and more uninteresting dredged channels instead of the naturally flowing river. Wayne made a quick turn with the wheel to avoid what he thought was a floating log at first, only to realize it was an alligator that dove quickly to avoid a hard nudge from FLUKE. We saw a few more. We dropped our anchors in the South Santee River, south of Georgetown, SC. There amongst the alligators and millions of mosquitoes, horse flies, and no-see-ums, we prepared to spend the night. Hearing explosions, I looked out the port to see bright blasts on the NW horizon which continued on for quite some time; I assumed they were some type of war games on, an unknown to us, military installation in the distance. Practicing to keep America safe.

FLUKE TO THE RESCUE

This is July 11, 2006, and today I am writing this real time as we are anchored for the day in Thoroughfare Creek (it connects the Waccamaw River to the Great Pee Dee River). I have caught up! Tomorrow, early in the day, we expect to pull into Wacca Wachee Marina (try saying that fast 3 times), off the Waccamaw River, near Murrells Inlet, SC. We had hoped to stop at Georgetown to see the town today as it is the 3rd oldest city in SC and seemed like it might be an interesting place to visit. It started out as a port city, dating back to 1737, supported by indigo and rice production. Now the main industries are shrimping and the papermill. We slowly cruised through the town harbor, barely big enough for 2 boats to pass and couldn't find any room to drop our anchors. We smelled and saw the big, belching, ugly papermill and decided to move on and wait for a more favorable wind to visit the city. On the way into this creek we came around a bend to see 2 young men trying to get their pontoon boat out of the middle of the creek as FLUKE was looming down on them. The current was swift, and their progress was slow. I took FLUKE out of gear to give them more time. Eddie was in the stern and could hear them ask if we could give them a tow up the creek to where they would have the opportunity to try to get gas, since they were on empty. Once again, even though we were of limited maneuverability, we couldn't leave them stranded in that current that would only push them further out into the main channel, so we threw them a line and FLUKE willingly took those orphans in tow. That is the way of the crew of FLUKE.