We headed out of Isle of Hope on that gorgeous Georgia morning, rounding the bend on the ICW just after 7AM. It was a sunny and calm at 60 degrees, and we had a plan: We would head north to about mile 440 of the ICW, drop anchor and watch the stars on our last night of Loopin'. With a little luck we would be able to lower the dinghy and find a great beach to take Ham ashore. And, maybe, we would pop open that bottle of Prosecco I had chilling in the fridge.
I researched a few possible anchorages while the Cap'n steered us through the low country marshes. Some clouds came in late morning, but they soon cleared way for a sparkling, calm afternoon.
Suddenly, and I mean suddenly, a 30 knot gust of wind shook the boat. "What was that?" we both wondered aloud. Even Ham looked up from his perch on the pilot birth. The Cap'n and I looked to port, to starboard and out back and saw nothing that would indicate an approaching storm such as a line of clouds. The Cap'n did notice that some unusual looking waves had developed -- oddly asymetrical with sharp points. As the waves whipped up, the marsh grasses took on a deceptive look, playing with our depth perception.
The wind continued to gust, the sun continued to shine and we debated what to do. We were just 5-10 miles from our desired anchorage, but we had to negotiate the narrow entry into the Ashepoo-Coosaw Cutoff. Moving on wouldn't be prudent but retracing our steps offered few options and the winds continued to build and buffet the boat about,
We turned back anyway and decided to head about 5 miles to Dataw Island. where there were a few promising anchorages and a marina. From a good distance we could tell the first anchorage, set on a small creek in the marshes, would offer little if any protection from the easterly winds. Our next option was the marina. Unfortunately, they close at 4PM and it was 2 minutes past. The winds would make it nearly impossible for us to safely dock the boat without assistance from shore -- another option lost. So, we motored on and dropped the anchor is a somewhat protected spot just south of the marina. It wasn't ideal, and getting the anchor set and snubber on took some effort, but it was all we could do.
Suffice it to say, it wasn't the night we had planned. Yes, there were stars, but there was no Prosecco. Nor dinghy rides. There were waves and winds and strange noises as FREEDOM swung about. What sleep we had was fitful. Fortunately, the anchor (and Ham's bladder) held.
We started the engine just after sunrise and after a quick but not so easy stop at the dock to offer Ham some relief, we were off to finish the Loop.
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