Bloggers are often criticized for putting a happy face on their posts. This is not one of those.....
The first few days of our Great Loop adventure were filled with blue skies, calm waters and little traffic. A night at the Myrtle Beach Yacht Club after our second day of travel gave us all a chance to stretch our legs. After walking up to 4 miles a day just to get the dog to shore in Charleston it felt a bit funny to have long sedentary days as we motored north.
At the end of each day we review the charts and determine how far we want or need to go the following day. Our preference is to find a quiet anchorage not too far off the ICW that will offer us enough swing room, and protection from winds and passing boat traffic. Lacking that, or if we need to get off the boat and walk or provision, we look for a marina. There are certain spots along the route where anchorages and marinas are found every 10 - 20 miles -- and other stretches that require us to travel at least 70-80 miles before we can stop. Our goal for this first leg of our Loop -- a route we have traveled many time -- was to vary our routine and explore new towns and anchorages.
Friday April 18th offered two options: travel for just a few hours and stop at a marina in Southport, NC or keep going and find an anchorage further north. It was just after 10 am when we approached Southport, and it seemed too early to stop. About noon we decided to stop at the anchorage off of Carolina Beach, NC. Our guide books and online reviews showed ample water depths and anchorage space, and as experienced "anchorers" we entered the harbor easily and found ourselves alone in the anchorage, surrounded by single family homes, condos and docks. Soon, the weather started to turn -- the winds picked up and a light rain fell -- and we were happy to be tucked up and safe.
As the winds built through the afternoon we kept an eye on our position, watching for any anchor drag. We knew it would be a bumpy and noisy night as the winds blustered the flying bridge bimini structure, but we felt secure on our anchor when we went to sleep just after 10pm.
Thump! 'What was that?' I said before even opening my eyes. 'Not sure,' replied the Cap'n. And what's that? I wondered realizing that a bright light was shining into our stateroom window. Feet on the floor and up the steps in seconds it looked to me that a large work platform was along our port side. I waited for shouts or activity from whomever was on this structure, guessing they had hit us, but there was no sign of life. Then the Cap'n brought me into focus -- 'That's a dock -- we dragged.' It was 12:14 am.
The Cap'n started the engine and ran to the bow to raise the anchor. I took my position at the wheel and following his hand signals steered us away from the dock and back towards the anchorage. It was pouring and pitch black out. Your classic dark and stormy night. Did I mention the anchorage featured a few sandbars that came and went with the tides?
Slowly, following the track on our navigation system, we returned to our original anchorage. What could we do? It was dark, completely dark, pouring down rain and the middle of the night. We had held there for at least 10 hours, and all we needed was 5 to get us to daybreak.
The anchor set, but we weren't comfortable. Wide awake, but unsettled. Coffee was made along with a plan: the Cap'n would try to get some sleep in the saloon while I watched our position on the nav system in the pilot house. Two hours passed quickly while I read the New York Times and played several rounds of Scramble -- all with a watchful eye the computer screen and landmarks on shore. We were moving, but slowly.
I dashed to the galley to refill my water glass and returned to realized our steady drag had turned onto a gallop. Oh **#@&^% I exclaimed, and the Cap'n was on his way... It was 3:20 AM
Back out in the rain and wind he went to raise the anchor. Where to now, we mused.
Still dark, still raining, still surrounded by hidden sandbars all we could do was return to the anchorage. It was my turn to sleep while the Cap'n stood watch.
Before long the rain diminished and dawn broke. I woke up about 5:30 and we decided to try our luck at grabbing a mooring so we could catch some quality shut eye. Off I went to the bow, boat hook in hand, ready to snag the mooring ball and secure it to a bow line. Truth be told: I hate the mooring dance. I suppose I don't do it enough to be as confident and capable as I need to be, but even then, I might still hate it. Two attempts to grab the line attached to the mooring were full of expletives and nearly successful. The third attempt found me wedged between the rail and the deck reaching desperately for the illusive ( and slimy) loop at the end of the mooring line. I turned my head ever so slightly and into the water went my hat: My prized 2009 Sundance Film Festival hat! There were other moorings to catch in that harbour, but there were no more 2009 Sundance Film Festival hats to be had. And I was mad! Mad, tired, cold, wet and I HAD HAD ENOUGH - I was getting that hat!!
I stood up, motioned to the confused Cap'n to head to starboard, then port, back to starboard -- the hat dip and dodged but remained afloat. After a brief disappearance beneath the bow, it popped up mid-ship to port and I was there with my hook. Success!
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| The Sundance Hat -- wet but with me... |
I had my hat, the sky was brightening and we abandoned the mooring field - heading instead to another (hopefully better) anchorage. No such luck. After 20 minutes we pulled anchor once again and headed for the ICW, fueled by coffee and the promise of a secure slip in a Wrightsville Beach Marina a few hours away.
It was 11:17 AM when we tied the last cleat and I jumped onshore to take Ham for a walk. Lunch and a long nap followed in quick succession. It had been a terrible horrible no good very bad night, but we were safe, and there were hush puppies on the marina restaurant dinner menu...
