We had intended to do an offshore overnight run from Beaufort to St. Augustine, but by early afternoon the northwest winds had become southwest, turning our beam reach into a head-on motorslog. After checking the chart, the Coast Pilot, and the ICW guide, we decided to duck in at St. Catherine's Sound. The entrance sounded reasonable, a good anchorage was just inside, and although we were unlikely to make it in before sunset, we could probably make it before it got really dark. We threaded the needle of the narrow bar channel and made for the Georgia marsh, passing shrimp boats sillhouetted in the fading light as they headed out for one last trawl. By the time we got far enough down Walburg Creek to anchor, it was full dark, but we dropped the hook according to the GPS and depthsounder, and had a pleasant night.
Friends who accompanied us on our first ever night sail, when we were jittery bundles of nerves, recently sent us email poking fun at our newfound nighttime fearlessness. GPS, good computer charts, and radar definitely bring the fright quotient way down! But given a choice, we'd just as soon have the anchor down and drinks in our hand by the time the sun sinks below the horizon.
By going outside for the day, we'd accomplished about 80 "ICW miles" in the space of about 60 actual miles. But with the wind still contrary, we decided to do the next leg inside. It was sort of ironic that we'd bypassed so much of the ICW, just to do one of the most winding and shallow stretches, where the waterway meanders like a lazy anaconda, and SeaTow makes a lot of money pulling errant boats out of the mud. We managed to avoid touching bottom all day, though, and the following day we sailed out St. Simon's Sound and back into the Atlantic.
The wind had just switched to the northeast, so the seas hadn't gotten a chance to build up yet. Sailing downwind in the relatively light air, we could only make about 4 to 4.5 knots, but we had a half knot of fair current, and with less than 40 miles to Fernandina Beach the slow pace was fine with us. How much more relaxing it is to gently and quietly glide along the open water, than to thread the marshes with one wary eye on the depthsounder, as the engine drones its one-note song!
In Fernandina we finally caught up with some of our friends from last year at an impromptu cocktail party on Nightwinds, which ended up lasting until after 11 pm. It had been over a year since we'd last been aboard, so we'd forgotten just how big that huge motorsailer really is. Bigger than the Manhattan condo we stayed in! Susan and Eric from Elysia were also there, and we met a few other cruisers as well. We all shared stories of our separate adventures.
One story which we were sad to hear -- fortunately not involving anyone we knew -- took place just last week here in Fernandina. The anchorage here isn't really a very good one, and over several days a small sailboat, with nobody aboard, had slowly dragged anchor into the channel. Late one night, the two kids (apparently two boys around 18 years old) who owned the boat dinghied out to it, and perhaps since it was nighttime, didn't notice they were in the channel. Only a few hours after they went to sleep, a tug and barge hit the boat, sinking it. One of the boys didn't make it out.
We were hoping for a little warm weather now that we're in Florida, but instead it's been cool and, oddly, quite foggy. For a few hours yesterday afternoon, we couldn't see the shore, and could barely make out the boats anchored nearest to us. Shades of Maine! The VHF hummed with Securite calls, which are basically, "I'm here, call me on the radio if I'm in your way or you're in my way." Cruisers who figured they didn't need radar for the ICW had their hands full picking their way through the shipping traffic. Eventually the fog lessened, but it hasn't cleared yet.
It's an overnight down to Cape Canaveral from here, but it looks like we might not get the weather we need to do it. We're probably going to have to start out, at least, heading down the ICW. We grounded in style not far from here last year, so we're not too thrilled about that prospect. But neither are we thrilled about the prospect of 7-foot waves, and we need to get moving.