In Myrtle Beach this sign told us that we were 713 miles north of Miami.  It would be four more days until we are in our slip at Northwest Creek Marina in New Bern.

In this little clip we were sailing downwind with only the mainsail up in the ocean.  The land ahead is Bald Head Island at the mouth of the Cape Fear River.  The autopilot was steering the boat.  In good conditions we can sail faster than we can motor.

In the Cape Fear River this ship overtook us.  You can't see it, but on her stern is the red flag of the Isle of Man with the three legged man in its center.  We moved out of the channel to let her pass.  A sailboat a mile or two ahead of us did not, and he got a whistle and a polite radio call when he stayed mid-channel.

Hello.  We are now home in Tennessee and living on dirt again.  We have been here a week, and what a busy week it has been.  I brought home two months’ worth of dirty clothes, sheets, and towels along with all the remaining food from the boat.  Bill brought his collection of boat things to repair or put away.  That little collection filled our Ford Expedition to the roof.  Our house did fine without us, the weeds and bushes both grew exceptionally well, but the insects and spiders stayed outside where they belonged.  There has been (and there still is) a lot to do.

Our trip north from Miami to New Bern was slow.  Back when we thought we would be leaving Miami for the Bahamas, we sent all our cool weather clothing to our daughter, Julia.  With little to wear except shorts and tee shirts, we could not go north faster than the spring, and this year spring was slow with cold front after cold front coming off the southeast coast.  We seemed to have windy cold weather every two or three days.  With each front the wind increased, and the temperature dropped.  We had two especially ‘interesting’ cold fronts.  One while anchored near Titusville brought several warnings of nearby tornados along with black skies, rain, and a wind speed hovering above 40 knots.  A second cold front with tornado warnings caught us at Pine Island north of St Augustine where a 3am blast of 48 knot wind coupled with a 180° change in direction dislodged our anchor and dragged us about 250 ft before the anchor reset thankfully stopping us before we hit anything.

With all the cold fronts, it was not good weather even in Florida for going out into the ocean and making faster progress.  Finally, passing through Georgia we got a break in the weather and motor sailed in the ocean from St. Catherine’s Sound to Hilton Head.  Along the way, we started hearing a metallic scraping noise coming from the engine compartment.  We anchored in Bryan Creek west of Hilton Head Island but found the creek to be too shallow, too narrow, and too infested with no-see-ums for our liking.  

Another cold front was coming our way, so we moved to the wider, deeper, and less buggy Bull Creek.  Bill found the shaft bearings on our engine coolant pump to be worn, so he called the local Yanmar dealer and ordered a replacement.  It was Wednesday and the promised delivery date was Monday.  That was okay.  We were not in a rush, and in five days spring would be five days farther north.  The forecast cold front arrived as expected.  In our well sheltered spot, the 30 knot wind did not bother us at all, and the bad weather soon passed.   However, over the weekend the governor of South Carolina relaxed his stay-at-home order, and our peaceful creek turned into a busy highway of small boats and jet skis intent on filling our calm spot with large waves.  We launched our dinghy, started our outboard motor, joined the mob, and took a two-hour-tour of the Bull Island salt marsh creeks.

On Monday, the crowds went back to work, and we were once again alone on the water.   A morning phone call told us that the replacement coolant pump had arrived.  We moved the boat to a spot near Hudson’s Seafood Restaurant on Hilton Head Island and anchored it there.  Bill put on his homemade face mask, picked up his rubber gloves and wipes, put on his pack, and took the dinghy to Hudson’s dock.  In a three hour walk around the island, he picked up the pump from the dealer, bought fresh vegetables from a roadside stand, got two bags of chips from a gas station, and bought two fried oyster salads for our supper from Hudson’s.  He even had a cold beer while he waited for his takeaway order.  The oysters were our first restaurant meal in seven weeks.  He installed the coolant pump that evening, but unfortunately it leaked, and he spent the next day doing a better job.

Our series of cold fronts continued.  We had a taste of one as we traveled through Beaufort, SC to the Ashepoo River where we got the real blow during that night.  Another one caught us anchored in Awendaw Creek north of Charleston.  Farther north after two calm nights anchored in the Waccamaw River, still one more cold front sped us on our way as we sailed in the ocean between Little River, SC and the Cape Fear River.  It then blew hard enough to keep me awake that night while we were anchored at Bird Island near the river mouth.

From the Cape Fear River, we motored in the Intracoastal Waterway to Wrightsville Beach, and the next morning we went out into the ocean for the trip to Beaufort, NC.  Anchoring that night near Fort Macon, we watched the dredging crew that had been working for months in the Morehead City Harbor pack up their equipment on barges to be pushed to Norfolk by three tugs.  The next day we traveled north with them for hours at almost exactly our motoring speed.  The first two tugs departed before us.  We overtook one when he slowed in a tricky area, and we overtook the lead tug when his barge momentarily ran aground in Adams Creek.  It was interesting to watch them maneuver in the twists and turns of the ICW and thread their barges through the narrow opening under the Core Creek Bridge.  They chatted on the radio between themselves and other passing commercial traffic.  It was something that we had not witnessed so closely before.

A calm night anchored in Cedar Creek and a short morning run up the Neuse River brought us back to Northwest Creek Marina and our slip.  It was Friday, May 15.  Tropical Storm Arthur was forecast to skirt the North Carolina coast over the weekend bringing wind and rain.  We began the three-day dance of moving things from the boat to the car and from the car to the boat in dry weather and ended our work in the rain.  By Monday morning all was done, and we left for Kingsport.  

We were away from home for 116 days.  During that time, I never got to walk on a beach, pick up shells, or eat a “cheese burger in paradise”.  This year’s trip was definitely much different from those of years past.  Our mechanical problems and the virus threw a monkey wrench into our plans.  Bahamas trip number 13, while not a disaster, was not the trip of my dreams.  But, there is always next year.

Hopefully, we will all have a good, safe, and healthy summer.