May 4, 2009

Before I go any further, last week I promised to post a photo of Bernie Reller, who has created a line of Trawler jewelry. And I didn't. So here it is. While at the Mirage seminar, Judy and I went to Bernie's jewery shop and his staff gave my bracelet a much needed cleaning. Here's a photo of Bernie taking a photo of my YA bracelet. He says he has the largest stock of nautical jewelry around. You may decide for yourself—and read his fascinating history-- by visiting his website at www.rellergold.com Last week (it was Wednesday when I posted last Monday's Message) Fred and I languished in Charleston. Then we languished some more. On Thursday afternoon we decided it was time to think about getting underway. Then we languished some more. We take this retirement thing very seriously. Actually, we had a shuttle to take us to town to grocery shop and enjoy more of Charleston. There were lots of boats in the marina to check out—like my favorite, the Dinghy. The crew working on the boat next door had not one, but two electric tricycles (sorta like our Go-Pet) so we had to watch them ride about. We also read (I read Twilight just to see what all the fuss is about), did crossword puzzles and sudokus, and well, we languished. On Friday afternoon when the tide was slack, we actually untied the lines and got underway. The temptation to stop 5 miles away at Isle of Palms was strong, but we resisted. We use a variety of methods for deciding where we'll stop for the night. Sometimes, we actually set a mileage goal for the day and pick a spot that is a match. Other days, around 4 pm we'll begin to think it is time and investigate one or more of our navigating books—Skipper Bob, the Waterway Guide, or Managing the Waterway to find a place to spend the night.. On this day, Fred was playing with his Nobeltec software in the drive-the-boat-computer, and he found McClellanville, on the Jeremy Creek. This is NOT, we were quickly told, a village founded by the General who is remembered for the (Union) Army of the Potomac in the Civil War. It's a village with about 200 families in 2.2 square miles, and is located in Charleston County. The South. As luck would have it, the first weekend in May is the annual Blessing of the Fleet and Lowcountry Shrimp Festival. So we pulled up to the Leland Oil Co. dock behind a 50' Hatteras (boat), just as Caroline and Justin arrived by car from Charleston with food and their two dogs, to live on the boat for the weekend. As we've noticed with many boats lately, this boat never left the dock, but was a great 'summer home'. It looked as if Marley, the 11 year old Black Lab, would never leave the dock either. The top dock, that is. These two docks, one fixed and one floating, give a perfect visual demonstration of the tidal range in Jeremy Creek. It a few hours the lower dock had been raised up and was close enough to the upper for Marley to jump down and join the family. We decided to stay for the festivities, and enjoyed the parade of shrimp boats decked out for the occasion. The Blessing turned out to be a much quicker than expected event, as the heavens opened and rain poured down on the boats and spectators. And the bagpiper, and the vendors. But a good time was had by all, the rain ended and the music started—and continued long into the night. We were invited to have shrimp and bar-b-que with Duane the dockmaster and his family, and also to visit with Sally and Bill, who are very slowly restoring a 100 year old house that has been in her family for generations. What a project! At the end of the day we climbed up to our top deck, and switched the cable that operates the dinghy davit from a braided wire affair with sharp barbs of steel every so often to a soft, flexible Amsteel cable. Very soft. Very easy to work with and very strong. It'll make lowering the dinghy a much more pleasant, and much less bloody, event. Returned inside the boat satisfied with a job well done, and lo, the engine room had a couple of buckets (I know this because I carried it out) of water on the floor. Happily, it took Fred about 3 minutes to diagnose the disconnect of the cold water feed to the hot water heater, and another 3 minutes to fix it. Hooray. Sunday morning we were underway by 7am. Plan A was to make it a twelve hour day and get some miles under the keel. We had a nice south wind pushing us along, but the currents opposed, so we were doing our usual 6.5 knots. Did I say earlier that most boats stay at the dock? On Sunday afternoon, it seemed that everyone who owned a boat in SC decided to go out and play. The traffic was incredible—at one point we acknowledged that it felt like New Jersey! Big boats, small boats, water skiiers and kids on floats, fishing boats and speedy personal watercraft devices ('mosquitos', we call them) zipping back and forth! By 6pm we decided that enough was enough and tied up at the Barefoot Landing in Myrtle Beach. A week ago this part of the ICW was closed because of fires. Don't know if this is the true story, but the locals told us that a fellow burned some 'stuff' in his yard. The fire dept. inspected and declared the fire safely put out, and then, two days later, as fire will do, it reared up and ran quickly out of control. The smoke, wind, and fog made travel on the Intracoastal Waterway impossible for days, but by the time we arrived only a faint smoke smell lingered. I didn't bring my camera when we walked through the Barefoot Landing Shopping Outlet for Ice Cream ($4.95 + tax for a double dip! Yikes.), or you'd see photos of the baby white tigers wrestling in their cages. “The animals don't live here”, the loudspeakers blared, “they are only brought in by day for the public to view. Step right up!” We didn't go inside for the full show. Today, Monday, we were off and running by 8am. Our northerly route took us through the Rock Pile—a 3+ mile stretch where the Waterway was blasted out of fossiliferous limestone (says the book). The chaannel is narrow enough that you don't want to meet up with any really big boats—to hit the side would be a very big deal. We were excited as we'd timed our arrival at the Pontoon Bridge perfectly. An accident, of course—we were going as fast as we could and it was good luck that the computer told us we'd arrive at the bridge at 9:57 am. Just across the NC border, this last pontoon bridge on this part of the Waterway opens every hour on the hour. But wait, as we came around the last curve at 9:55, we met southbound traffic. Oops. Bridge tender suggested that we drop the anchor, as the tide was too low for the pontoons to float, and he'd had to open early. So anchor we did, along with about 7 other boats, and by 11:30 there was enough water for all systems to be a go! The rest of the day was pretty uneventful. The Cape Fear River gave us a dandy current boost and we roared along at a record 10.2 knots for awhile! Once again we had to hover for 20 minutes, this time at the Wrightsville Bridge. The bottom of the bridge was 17.5 feet above the water, and we need 19 feet to get through. Two hours north of Wrightsville we turned into the Harbour Village Marina, and easily tied up at the empty fuel dock. Scott, the night guy at the marina explained to us that this place is very unusual. The owner had a lot of land and decided to build a Marina in the middle of nowhere. He did and sold most of the slips immediately. According to Scott, most of the boats at most of the slips have sat empty for over a year—folks here don't even weekend on their tied up boats. That suits Scott just fine—it's a nice, quiet place to live--on his boat. The owner then began building houses around the perimeter of the Marina, and each of the 12 built so far has sold for a very handsome price. So the owner is happy. The evening was cool and lovely, we were happy, too, and now it is time for bed. Good night all—we'll talk again! Fred and Linda