Arima Adventures

ARIMA ADVENTURES

Aboard a 15’11” Sea Explorer

by Jeff Nicholas

Trailerboat Launch

The shuttle was scheduled to lift off Thursday 5/16/96 at 6:30.  I had promised myself that I'd see one go up from the back of my boat so I planned a vacation from Wednesday 5/15 through Sunday 5/20.  My wife and daughter had a more pressing agenda, so I asked a friend if he'd like to go; we'd leave Tuesday after work.

The Sunday before the launch, I called 407/867-2525 (the NASA flight update line) and was disappointed to learn that the flight had been rescheduled for Sunday. I called my buddy and broke the news.  We mulled over the options and eventually decided to head south as planned, but we'd go to North Ft. Myers first, to check out trawlers for charter there, do some boating in the area, then head back to Titusville for the Sunday launch.

We did leave Tuesday after work, and spent the night in a Daytona motel.  At about noon the next day we were walking the docks at the North Ft. Myers charter agency.  We checked out the trawlers that were in and made a Saturday am appointment to see the others.  We then headed to Ft. Myers Beach for charts and then on to the ramp at Punta Rassa.  By 2pm we were out in the Gulf of Mexico marveling at the sights of FMB and Sanibel.

The boat is a 15' 11" cuddy with a 60 HP Outboard.  When my wife and I go out overnight, we both sleep in the cuddy.  The boat came with a 14 gallon water tank, porta potty and a back curtain that completes the enclosure of the helm when the dodger and side curtains are in place.  I also took the camper back option which encloses the entire cockpit.  The weather was so pleasant during the entire Florida experience that we never even put up the dodger.  I slept in the cabin and my buddy, being the amateur astronomer that he is, went to sleep with the stars in his face, athwartship in the cockpit on an inflatable air mattress. 

The nights were clear as a bell.  We spent the first one at anchor in the Caloosahatchie about 1/2 mile down river from the HWY 41 bridges in 4' of water.  The breeze was blowing our stern to the beach and it was a little lumpier that if we'd snugged to the other shore,  but given the choice, I'll take an onshore breeze every time, even if the fetch creates a chop.  An onshore breeze comes in bug free across the water.  We witnessed the sunset and had fresh coffee via the Magma at sunrise without experiencing bug #1. 

That night, even though we had a cellular phone aboard, we called home via the VHF.  This was a first for me, and it's pretty slick.  You turn to the marine operator channel and key the mike for 3 to 5 seconds.  You get an automated welcome message and then hear the phone ringing.  A person answers and asks you the name of your boat, and who you want to call.  The phone rings again and someone at your house answers.  "Hi Suzy, this is Jeff.  We're swinging on the hook in the Caloosahatchee, over?"   The calls are billed collect, unless you have an account.  Anyone with a VHF can make a call -- it's not private, but it gets the job done.

We noted all the 'Slow -- Manatee' signs on our early morning cruise up the river toward Lake Okeechobee, but evidently the Manatee only hang out in the Caloosahatchee during certain months, so the good news was we didn't have to slow down, the bad news was we didn't get to see any manatee.

I'd done my share of locking on the NY Barge Canal, Dismal Swamp and a previous trip across the Okeechobee Waterway, but I thought it would be good experience for my buddy to participate in a lock through.  The Franklin Lock is at about MM 122 on the Okeechobee Waterway, just a short run from the Ft. Myers area.  We gave the lockmaster a shout on VHF 13, but noted on arrival that there was a line at the end of the lock fenders that one could pull to activate a horn that requests lock passage.  The lock is only a couple feet higher on the up river side and the lines are already dangling from the lock walls.  Boaters put the starboard side to the lock wall, grab a line and wait until it's over.  It's a very simple, uncomplicated pleasant process taking about 15 minutes.  After locking through, we couldn't resist the urge to keep going east on the waterway.

Prior to becoming a mini-stink owner, my cruising was done an a 27 foot sailboat and a 35 foot trawler.  I call it rags to riches.  My wife and I lived (really camped) on the sailboat for over 2 years.  No running water, no electricity, no refrigeration...  The trawler on the other hand, had air conditioning, large refrigerator w/ freezer, gas range w/ oven, microwave, 2 heads, 3 showers, queen bed, you name it.  Both were heavy and slow, each with it's advantages.  The sailboat took us on extended cruises from Rhode Island to the Caribbean.  The trawler didn't take us to many far away places, but it took us in style and comfort.  (It's funny how as we get older, our sense of adventure takes a back seat to our desire for comfort).  Both boats produced a fear in me of docks and bottoms.  I never got near shore unless it was absolutely necessary.  Kedging off either of those 2 boats was an all day harrowing experience, and approaching the dock or slip was equally nerve wracking.  The little 16 foot stink (we call her 'QT' because she's such a cutie) provides all the boating opportunity of the previous boats with of course compromises in range and comfort, but she does bring us several new dimensions.  She's a shallow water magnet when it comes to exploring, she's small enough to handle and tie up like a dingy at the anchorages where the real cruisers hang out, and she is capable of 30 mph.  When the need for comfort exceeds that which is afforded by QT, we put her back on the trailer or tie up at a marina and check into a motel.

But continuing our cruise up the Caloosahatchie...

After locking through, we slowly made our way inland to LaBelle.  If we had been cruising aboard the sail boat or trawler, LaBelle probably would have been an overnight stop, but with the ability to exceed 10 mph along with not having to wait for bridges, LaBelle was a midday stopover.  The town dock had 2 boats along side and I would have felt perfectly comfortable squeezing into the 20' that was still available, but we opted for the shallow dock at the public ramp across the river.  Again, had we been in the sailboat or trawler we would have had to make some heavy decisions...

After getting ice from the bait shop near the ramp, we leisurely headed back downstream.  We hooked out at a bend where visibility was good in all directions and went for a refreshing fresh water swim.  We didn't see any alligators, and I guess they didn't see us.  We had a leisurely sandwich lunch and were on our way.

We didn't call the lockmaster at the Franklin Lock on our way back through, we used the boat hook to pull the line which activated the horn.  I prefer this to using the VHF -- mine is a handheld and it's stowed unless I plan to use it.

We continued down the river and back out into the Gulf.  We tracked local boats rounding Pt. Ybel at the tip of Sanibel, and kept a sharp eye on our depth sounder as we followed in their wake.  We headed up the coast in about 5' of water, watching the sunbathers and swimmers on the Gulf side of Sanibel.  When trees replaced condos on the beach, we anchored.  I drop an 8S Danforth from the stern and usually tie it off to the quarter, that way the breeze blows in over the transom.  If we need a different attitude because of the seas, I will move the rode forward to ease the motion.  In this case, the wind and seas were mild out of the southeast and we let the anchor lie from the quarter.  Things were so peaceful, we decided to stay there for the night.

With QT, I have become almost lackadaisical about anchoring, especially compared to the procedure we used in the Bahamas and Caribbean.  With the other boats, we would always set 2 anchors, back down to ensure a good bite and then dive on them to be sure they were set cleanly.  In addition, we made it a point to be aboard for at least the first tide change (after which it was permissible to open the rum).  With QT, I kill the engine, throw out the hook, pay out about 5 to 1 scope, cleat her off  and let her fetch up on her own as she drifts.  I know the Gulf can get rough quickly, so for insurance I checked the GPS to make sure the track from the causeway bridge to the anchorage was in tact.  I had experimented successfully on a clam night in Charleston, following the GPS track from Wild Dunes to Charleston Harbor in the dead of night.  I knew if the weather got lousy in the Gulf that night, we could follow the GPS track back to the inside of Sanibel without needing much visibility.

The stars were so bright they reflected off the water.  The seas built a little and I moved the rode to the forward cleat and finally to the bow.  The boat would lie to the wind, then shift to the seas, then back again.  It was somewhat lumpy and a bit loud below, but we both slept comfortably.

There's nothing like fresh coffee at sunup.  Ok, coffee in tea bags, but there's still nothing like it.  Those were the only two times we fired up the stove -- to make coffee at sunup.  My wife had great difficulty provisioning.  This was because I insisted she follow my shopping list:  Lets see, Cheetos, dry roast peanuts, milk, sandwich meat, coffee, cereal, soft drinks, chips and bread.  I had to threaten her to prevent her from buying/packing the fruit, vegetables, condiments and other healthy stuff that must be taken on family cruises.  She should have taken comfort in that we supplemented our meals aboard with Hot Wings and the like, but every time I called home I was reminded: "Now you find some salad ashore."  Right, like a couple guys are going out cruising with salad on their minds...

Being a visitor without 'local knowledge' I didn't want to head north and chance Redfish Pass (the inlet between Captiva and North Banks) early in the morning from the outside in, so as soon as the sun was above the horizon we lazed back to Pt. Ybel and explored the canals and homes that are accessible via a channel just up inside from the point.  We spent several hours in the canals and ended up having lunch at the marina restaurant in that cozy water community.

After all the slow exploring we wanted to get her up on a plane and have some wind in our faces for awhile, so we motored up the backside of Sanibel past Blind Pass (between Sanibel and Captiva) and on to and past Captiva.  As Redfish Pass came abeam we heard the Gulf calling us.  The weather and seas were perfect so we headed out.  The channel is well marked and plenty deep for a 16 foot outboard.  As we emerged into the Gulf we couldn't resist turning north.  We hugged the beach from South Banks to North Captiva and before we knew it we were approaching Captiva Pass.  We ran the inlet and were headed for the channel back south when we decided to explore the little bay at the inside north end of North Captiva.  The way in was a little confusing when we came to a house that was in the middle of the channel.  We took an outside course and made it fine, but noticed that what appeared to be a local boat behind us, opted for the inside route and they also had no apparent trouble.  Just goes to show you how accommodating the area is.  There were a couple places in the little bay where a thirsty boater could take comfort, but we didn't partake.

We hadn't yet explored Ft. Myers Beach, so we scurried down Pine Island Sound and under the bridge to the beach front.  We drifted in about 5 feet of water for an hour or so watching the swimmers, jetskis and parasailers.  FMB is so diverse.  There are retired folks, sunning, swimming and pushing their metal detectors up and down the beaches.  There are middle aged couples with their families, picnicing/vacationing, and there is the younger group who enjoy jetskiing, parasailing dancing etc.  We didn't actually set foot on it, but there is a very nice fishing pier right in the middle of everything too! FMB is a very comfortable place, with something for everyone.

My stomach began to complain, so we lit up the outboard and made for Matanzas Pass at the end of Estero Island.  We ran the pass with no problems even though there was a dredge working there, and hugged the northern shore of Estero as we made our way east up the backside of FMB.  Just beyond the Estero Island/mainland bridge we came upon a diverse fleet of anchored boats.  I can't resist idling through such an anchorage, wondering about where the boats have been, where they are bound and what their owners are like.  As we put the last of the anchored fleet to stern, my stomach growled again and I remembered that our mission was food.  By this time we had circumnavigated the anchorage and were back at the bridge where there is a waterside restaurant.  We tied up at their dock and had a delightful dinner.

We knew we'd need to get the boat back on the trailer first thing the next morning, so we wanted to find a place to drop the hook that wasn't too far from the Punta Rassa ramp.  We decided to try a little cove SE of Big Shell Island at Marker "96".  We hooked out with plenty of day light left. We were surrounded by trees in 4 feet of water.  There was one other boat in the cove.  Another boat joined us before long and as we watched him settle in, I told my buddy that one of the most potentially entertaining aspects of cruising was watching others anchor, and if it's not entertaining, it will at least be educational.

When you come into an anchorage you want to find 2 maybe 3 other boats.  If there's only one, it might not be a good place to stop.  If there's 5 or 6 boats in a cozy spot, it will probably be tough to find the exact place to drop the hook, all the best spots will have all been taken.  You want to have your hook down and be comfortable before the next boat comes in -- to watch the show.  A couple will come in.  The guy will be on the bow with the ground tackle.  He'll  know exactly where he thinks he wants to plant the hook.  He turns to his wife and points and shouts directions.  She works the helm, inching toward the spot he has in mind.  When the spot is close, he releases the hook and lets it dangle as he holds the rode.  He's going to tell her to take it out of gear, but as he gets right on top of the spot, he thinks maybe a little more to port might be better.  He's holding the rode so he doesn't turn around, but he shouts, "to port, to port!".  She doesn't hear him because he's facing forward, looking down.  She throttles back and he's expecting a move to port.  He hollers, she doesn't hear.  He ties off the rode and goes back to the cockpit.  There is gesturing and conversation.  He may remain at the helm before he goes forward again.  Finally the anchor is released.  He instructs, "back her down".  She may not hear him, but she knows to back down.  The boat makes way astern but does not go in the anticipated direction.  The other boats are lying to the wind and this one is backing to port, getting nearer than comfortable to another anchored boat.  He hollers, she doesn't hear...  He may opt to bring the hook back aboard, do some piloting himself and eventually put the hook down 10 or 15' from where it is now, if so, it starts over.  If the anchor is set, then there's the question of more scope, or less?  This challenge could take 6 or 8 more-less adjustments before a solution is apparent.  The time between adjustments could be 2 or 3 minutes or 1/2 hour or more.  When the anchoring adventure is over there will be VHF chatter, then dinghies will begin migrating to other boats.  Sea stories and grog will be shared by people who have the water in common.

Our latest visitor to the anchorage did not afford the usual entertainment.  He was a single hander on what appeared to be a home built ferro ketch.  I explained to my buddy that single handers are the epitome of casual efficient procedures.  This guy was no exception when it came to anchoring.  He was so casual and efficient he was almost boring, but as we watched, we wondered where he'd been, where he was going -- and why.

As the sun disappeared, so did our serenity.  Mosquitoes!  We weren't unprepared, but we were caught by surprise.  After a few weekends aboard in Charleston, I realized that if I was going to make a habit out of spending nights on the boat, I'd better be ready for no-see-ums and mosquitoes.  The camper back I'd bought as an option has a frame, as does the dodger.  I bought some no-see-um netting and sewed up a canopy that attached to the corners of the camper back frame in back and at the dodger frame in front.  The net simply hangs down to the cockpit sole, draping over the dash and companionway.  There are several patches of velcro at the gunnels and stern, to keep the net in place.  But this was the first time it was to be deployed under battle conditions (and in the dark).  We finally got it up and secured, then with the flashlight we systematically eradicated all the bloodsucking vermin that had made their way inside.  I have a similar smaller screen rig for the forward hatch -- it's a commercial job that fits over the open hatch and is held in place by a stainless steel chain sewn into the hem.  Between the two anti-bug systems, we had a pleasant night.

After watching the sun come up the next morning, we lit her up and headed for the ramp.  It took about 1/2 hr to get her out and road ready.  We stopped for donuts and coffee, then hit the charter outfit to see the rest of their power fleet; then on to Titusville.

We were really hyped about seeing the shuttle go up.  So much so, that the minute we spotted a ramp on the Canaveral Barge canal, we backed her in the water and were off.  We didn't realize we'd not only forgotten the food we'd brought for snacks, dinner and breakfast (fortunately we did leave the cooler aboard), we also forgot the camera.  Of course we missed the food right away and easily decided we could have bologna sandwiches without bread, and we could get breakfast landside after the launch, but the camera didn't turn up missing until it was too late, like 5am the next morning.

Between the ramp where we put in and the anchorage, there were at least 2.5 gazillion signs regarding the manatee and their unfortunate situation .  We'd been strongly advised by several local folks to obey the signs to the letter, so we did.  Some were for "No Wake", some were for "Slow Speed Within 25 Feet of Shore" and some were "No Entry With Motors".  We almost missed the "No Entry with Motors" signs on the Banana river about a mile or so north of the Canaveral Barge canal.  I had watched the video, "The Way South, Part II" and the fellow narrating said we could go north on the Banana to the bridge, but evidently the video is out of date.  Anyway, when we came to the signs that wouldn't allow further passage, we wanted to be sure we were in the right place, so we imposed on a nearby anchored trawler with a Titusville hailing port.

"We came to watch the launch.  Will we be able to see it from here and if so, which area is the active pad?"  The trawler had a barking dog, so it was hard to hear, but we understood that we were in the right place and a gesture seemingly pointed in the general direction of 1 of the 2 pads.  The fellow then suggested we anchor about 1/8 mile up river behind that little island (far enough away to keep his dog from barking?) - which we did.

Not long after we were settled, another boat cruised in.  It was a family with 2 kids on a 19 foot IO.  He asked us the same questions we asked the trawler, and we told him what we'd learned.  Then the entertainment started as they anchored.  They were successfully anchored/positioned on the 3rd try.  After they were settled for about an hour, the fellow pulled up the hook and swung by our boat.  "The Coast Guard just came on the VHF saying that all boats must move down below marker 15 -- so we're going."  I told him I would wait until they ran me out.

About 60 minutes later, I heard the Coast Guard with the same message and decided we'd move while there was still daylight.  Down we went to marker '15A' where there were a cluster of boats.  We were the entertainment as we dropped the hook and swung to a poor vantage point, then reanchored at another place.  About 10 minutes later the VHF was alive with a Coast Guard Auxiliary person asking how to handle the vessels that were anchored too far up river.  The Coast Guard confirmed that if boats were north of the power lines, they would have to move.

'15 A' is north of the power lines, and so were we.  We pulled up the anchor and moved to a prime spot 5 feet south of the power lines.  There were 7 or 8 boats in this area.  After about an hour, when there was no sign of the coast guard shagging out the boats anchored farther north we began to wonder if we'd been had, but decided to keep our select spot in the 'south of the powerlines' anchorage.

Just before the sun hit the horizon, someone turned on the lights at the Challenger pad.  We were over 7 miles away, but the place still looked like a ride at Disney World.  With the glasses, we could see the shuttle perched on the back of the boosters.  The light that spilled past the rocket and gantry light up the sky like searchlights at a grand opening.  Now there was no doubt that we were in the right place and there was no doubt which pad to keep our eye on.  I did remember to put a radio aboard; we searched for a station that would give us a rundown on what was happening.  Was the countdown proceeding?  The radio was music, music, music.  Can you remember the last time you complained about music being on the radio?  Finally a local station gave us the information we wanted to hear.  The launch was still a go for Sunday morning @ 6:30 am.  Just then we heard the rattling of chain.

It was a big boat coming into the anchorage.  There was little sunlight left for navigating.  Spotlights were searching for a place to drop the hook.  We couldn't see too well, or hear above the drone of the engines, but we knew the story.  The rattling of anchor chain confirmed several chapters.  Then another boat came in, then another, and another.  Then it dawned on us -- the Coast Guard was uprooting all boats anchored north of the power lines.  We complimented each other on our excellent choice of location, especially compared to where the others would end up, and patted each other on the back for being such conscientious sailors.

The sky was clear and there was a gentle breeze as we turned in.  It was hard to get any sleep knowing what lay ahead in the morning. I got up several times during the night to feast my eyes on the brightly lit giant.  If there were any bugs that night, they must not have gotten the news from the Coast Guard to be south of the power lines, because there weren't any bugs at all where we were.

I was up at about 5am...couldn't sleep...couldn't keep my eyes off the giant.  I would have made coffee, but the coffee was in the car.  I fiddled with the radio, searching for a station that would give us an update.  The only talking I could find was some religious stuff, and I guess that's OK as it was a Sunday, but it wasn't what I was interested in.  Just as I turned away from the station my buddy said, "Hey, that sounded like the tower."

I switched back and sure enough, there was chatter about the shuttle, but only briefly, then more religious stuff.  Before long it became apparent that the radio station was relaying sporadic shuttle radio traffic.  Just before 6am the radio station became exclusively Shuttle/Command Center/Houston radio transmission relays.  There were long periods of silence and it might have seemed there was no station on the air, but that was because there was nothing to relay at the time.  An announcer came on during one of the silent spells to explain why there was so much silence and to solicit phone comments about the broadcast.  The station is at 91.5FM but we didn't get the call letters or phone number.

Ten, nine, eight, ...  I found myself  holding my breath as the radio counted down ... three, two, one ... we have liftoff.  There's no possible way for me to express the awe and magnificence I experienced as the giant emerged from the snow white billowing cloud at the pad.  Slowly the giant climbed out of the cloud, displaying the fire that pushed him skyward.  Tears came to my eyes as he rose majestically -- then the sound.  Being as far away as we were, the sound wasn't loud, but it was BIG.  It was the biggest sound I've ever heard in my life.  The biggest sound I've ever heard in my life.  The biggest.  I'll bet if  my eyes hadn't been glued to the giant, I could have seen that sound coming toward me across the water.

We watched until the contrail pointed to what looked like a tiny bright star; the sound continued.  Big sound.  We didn't speak.  We just watched and listened and felt.  It's an experience not to be missed.  The watching and listening have passed, but the feeling continues.  The overwhelming feeling continues.

We didn't talk much about the launch on the 10 hour trip home.  We'd both been there and we both knew there weren't any words that would work.  We did promised to go again and take the families.  We also planned the next trailerboat cruise.

Blue Angel Log Entry  7/11-14/97

Pulled my 15'11" Cuddy (w/50 HP Honda) from Spartanburg, SC to Pensacola with a buddy.  We left Thursday afternoon, so we spent the night just shy of Montgomery -- we put the boat in the water about 11am Friday at the public ramp at Shoreline Park in English Navy Cove.

We immediately made for the inlet and dropped the hook on East Bank for a leisurely lunch.  After lunch we headed east to Pensacola Beach.  As we arrived, the Blue Angels showed up for practice.  We anchored and watched the show preview.

About 4pm we pulled in the hook and debated which direction to go.  My buddy said he thought there was an inlet to the east (near Navarre Beach), where 399 goes north to join 98, but I didn't have a chart to verify.  We headed east and after leaving the fishing pier sufficiently to stern, we decided the road map just wasn't good enough for navigation.  We continued east anyway, as I knew from a road trip 8 years earlier that there was an inlet at Destin, and surely we could get back in at Panama City if not at Destin.

We ran the inlet at Destin and spent some time in the little harbor east of the inlet just short of the bridge.  We topped off the tank with 9 gallons but the marina didn't have a chart -- "No one uses charts around here..."

We picked up the ICW and headed west.  When it started to get dark, we hooked out just short of the Navarre bridge.  We cooked hot dogs one at a time on the single burner (camping) stove and ate them on unadorned buns...they tasted sooo good!

We had a few mosquito visitors, but otherwise an uneventfull night.  Wheaties and coffee for breakfast and we were on our way.  We needed ice and bread so we beached the boat at Fishing Bend near the bridge and picked up the supplies at the 7-11.  A friendly local named Pete met us at the beach, taught us the ins and outs of getting ashore from a beached boat and provided other 'local knowledge'. By the time we were ready to leave we had a challenge threading past the swimmers and other boats -- man that place filled up fast.

We went back out the inlet, and made our way to Pensacola Beach.  We knew the exact spot to be because we'd been there the day before for the practice.  We dropped the hook about 12:30 in 35 feet of water, observing that there were not as many boats in the Gulf as yesterday.  But other boats rapidly joined us until there were perhaps 300 boats swinging on the hook in close quarters.  The weather was clear and calm so there were no collisions, but judging from the way most folks casually anchored, if the weather had been brisk, the anchorage would have been a rats nest of dragging anchors and tangled rodes.

The show was awsome!  We had the sun at our backs and it appeared we were much closer to the action than the thousands of folks crowded on the beach.  There were a couple instances where a Blue Angel got so close we could see the moisture boiling off the wings -- we guessed the pass overhead put him less than 200 feet from our boat.  The anchorage was in extatic cheer as the roar of the engines followed the plane off to the horizon.  The Stealth Bomber looked like spaceship out of a science fiction movie as it showed us it's stuff.

After the show, the wind picked up and it began to cloud over.  Everyone made a mad dash for the inlet.  The picture behind us looked like the Charge of the Light Brigade only with wakes.  Things calmed down as we made our way back inland and the skies even cleared.

With substantial daylight left, we decided to do some exploring.  We still didn't have charts, so we were playing it by ear.  Looking back, I think we spent some time in Bayou Texar up from the Public Ramp at the East side of the Pensacola end of the Pensacola Bay Bridge.  It was a nice protected area -- the only place we saw any water skiiers.  Comming back, we ended up in Bayou Chico at Harbor View Marine where the friendly folks fixed us up with gas, water and a chart.  We asked about a restaurant on the water.  They recommended The Manatee on the Inner Harbour.

We found The Manatee and tied the boat up out back.  The food was excellent and very reasonable.  It's a place I would enjoy taking my family to.

It got dark quickly -- before we cast off.  We relied on the GPS to get us across the bay and back out into the Gulf.  We found the spot on East Bank where we'd had lunch the day before and dropped the hook for the night.  It's a tradition to spend the night anchored in the Gulf -- we'd done it about a year earlier at Sanibel, before trailering to Titusville to watch a shuttle go up.

We spent a pleasant night in the Gulf and after debating on whether to go east or west, we opted for a westward direction.  We ran the Pensacola Inlet in to the ICW and leisurely followed it west to Dauphin Island.  The waterway is pretty and diverse along the Gulf waterway.  I prefer unspoiled narrow stretches, but my buddy found charm in the oil rigs and shrimping trawlers in Bon Secour Bay.

We didn't really need gas, but the cold drinks were running thin, so we poked into the channel just north of Fort Gaines and made our way west to a marina just short of the bridge in Dauphin Island Bay.  The run from Mobile Bay to the marina is all at idle speed in a channel at the water's edge, but the guy at the dock enlightened us to a short-cut back across the bay.  There was a restaurant near the marina which served up a hamburger that I'm sure was better than the Spam we would have to have eaten aboard.

As we left Dauphin Island astern, we couldn't resist the urge to try the Gulf.  It wasn't flat, but the weather was clear and pleasant so we figured we shoot back to the Pensacola inlet from the Gulf side.  I might have explored the two intermediate inlets we passed on the way back to Pensacola, but my buddy was at the helm as we passed each one and wasn't interested in abandoning the Gulf, so we stayed outside.

We arrived back at the ramp around 6pm and by 6:30 we were on the way back home.

Engine hours = 21

Fuel used = 44 gallons

Trip log = 300 miles

Spartanburg SC to Peoria IL to Chicago 8/7-8/12/98

For my wife Suzy, the purpose of the journey north was to attend a wedding and group birthday party, both of which included all 7 siblings as well as friends we’d grown up with in the Chicago area.  For me, the trip to Illinois was to explore the Waterways that had offered no fascination to me as a child growing up in the area, but now beckoned to be explored.  My 18-year-old daughter Sara Jane would divide her time between being my crew, partaking in family festivities and a land based excursion to downtown Chicago to see among other sights, the Art Institute.

One of Suzy’s siblings lives in Peoria, another in Joliet, another in Blue Island IL and another in Chicago.  We put together a float plan that would involve all of these ‘river towns’.  I would have preferred to have charts, but in my case, being without them is not a show stopper.  The Corps of Engineers is between printings and charts of the Illinois Waterways have been unavailable for many months.  I wouldn’t have thought to begin a cruise aboard my sailboat or trawler without charts, but aboard my 15’11” outboard powered cuddy, charts fall into the convenience category, especially since my GPS has a built in US map.  Our biggest quandary was the location of the locks/dams – the one below Peoria kind of took us by surprise as we approached the ‘dam’ during our get acquainted with Peoria cruise.  The buoys protecting the dam were all piled up at the edge of the river.  We didn’t notice the lock right away and wondered why we could only see the heads of fishermen above what looked like a row of branches sticking up out of the water all across the river.  We eventually spotted the lock and realized we were at the top side of the dam. Going upstream, which we did for the rest of the trip, we approached the locks/dams from the low side so we were spared the anxiety of finding another dam by accident.

After getting acquainted with Peoria’s charming waterfront, I bought a prop at a propeller shop in Peoria Heights.  I’d planned on buying a spare prop before leaving Spartanburg, and had done some research on the internet which led me The Prop Warehouse.  After swapping e-mail with TPW a couple times, I discovered I’d be in the vicinity of their shop and decided to hold off buying until I could visit the shop in person.  These guys knew propellers, offered sound advice and a satisfaction guarantee.  I was happy to buy a prop from them even knowing I might have gotten it cheaper somewhere else.  It’s handy having outfits like this on the internet, supplying expertise and mail order equipment – I’ll do what I can to support them.

The next morning, I stopped by to see Gary Sandvick aboard his boat Rock and Roll.  I had previously known Gary only via the Internet.  He turned up when I searched for info on obtaining Illinois Waterway charts.  Gary had steered me to www.mvr.usace.army.mil/navdata/ilchart.htm.  At that site, I viewed the charts of areas that I felt might be critical, I’d even printed them, but because the resolution was marginal and there were over 140 of them to deal with I opted for the Illinois road map instead. After the visit with Gary, my daughter and I headed upstream.  We left Suzy with the empty trailer, advising her that we could be a couple days on the river -- we’d give her a call on the cell phone when we found a Joliet ramp.  Suzy would drive to Joliet and be able to spend some time with her sister Peg before we arrived.

 

The cruise upstream was delightful.  The first lock at Starved Rock was opening as we approached.  We waited until a tug/barge was situated in the lock, then crept up to the gate.  As we approached, a fellow standing at the lock gate instructed us to put our starboard side to the lock wall, and a lock attendant farther up motioned where he wanted us to stop, then threw us a bow and stern line.  The gates closed, the lock filled, the gates opened and we were underway within 20 minutes.  This experience gave us a false reading on lock transit times, but it did provide us with operational procedure.

Sara Jane and I leisurely continued our cruise upstream, taking in the beautiful sights along the banks while basking in pleasant sunshine.  There is considerable commercial traffic, but we learned early the best course of action when meeting an oncoming tug/barge is to find about 5’ of water near the bank, drop the hook and wait until the river is clear.  We weren’t in a hurry and used those opportunities to make a sandwich or open a cold one while we marveled at the size of those barges.  Due to our leisurely pace, we seldom overcame commercial traffic, but when we did, we hung well back until there was a wide spot in the river, then dashed past at an accelerated pace.

We had an interesting experience at the Marseilles lock.  As we approached, there was a boat with partying crew, anchored in the middle of the river.  I pulled up to the partiers and asked if they were waiting for the lock. They said there was some commercial traffic in the lock on the way down and they would be locking up on the next pass.  They mentioned that they’d have to move from their spot to allow passage of the tug/barge when it came out of the lock.  I noticed that the anchor line was tied off to a stanchion at the bow, then led aft to somewhere in the cockpit.  I mentioned to my daughter that it was foolish to anchor in the right of way of commercial traffic, and their anchoring technique left a little to be desired.  We put QT in 5’ of water at the river edge and dropped the hook.  I heard another pleasure boat hail the lock on VHF16, then switch to 14.  I put the radio on 14 to monitor the conversation.  Sure enough, the lockmaster said when the tug/barge cleared the lock, we could bring in our pleasure boats to lock up.

 

I watched a pontoon boat bounce up and down on the rocks as the tug/barge emerged from the lock.  I’d learned on the ICW that those tug props suck the water out of narrow channels as they approach, and it’s wise not only to get out of their way, but also to have 4 or 5 feet of water under you before they pass.  I heard the tug captain on the VHF telling the fellow anchored in the middle of the channel to get out of the way.  Not knowing if the partying boaters had VHF, I motioned to them to get out of the way, then I headed for safety.  The tug again came on the VHF telling the boat to get out of the channel.  Three or four minutes later, the tug was on the VHF again, this time asking the lock if the boat had moved, “The pleasure craft has been out of my line of vision for a couple minutes now, and I can only assume the boat has moved”.  When we were all tied up in the lock, we learned via the VHF that the boat that was anchored in the middle of the channel could not get the anchor up and had to cut the line to get out of the way of the oncoming barge.

If my wife and or daughter are aboard I’ll consider staying at a marina the second night out so that the girls can have a real shower, but this was only night one, so an anchorage was in order.  At sundown, we started looking for a place to drop the hook but couldn’t find a spot that was inviting.  We slowed from planing speed to 6 mph and continued up the river under darkening skies. The light from the full moon reflecting from the still river provided a comfortable path for us to navigate at our reduced speed.  It was only when the river drastically changed direction that we needed the spot light to assure us we were on track in clean water.  We eventually did find a wide spot in about 3 feet of water where we dropped the hook for the night.  Best guess would put the spot about 6 or 7 miles south of the Dresden lock.  SJ opted for the cuddy and although there’s room for 2 to sleep inside, I blew up the air mattress and crawled in the confines of my ‘sleeping sheet’ (a light duty sleeping bag made by sewing two sheets together).  The mosquitoes were ferocious, but I was ready with my mosquito net hood; and while I could hear those little rascals buzzing, I knew they couldn’t get to me.  Had we anchored earlier, before dusk, we would have put up the big screen that protects the entire cockpit from bugs, but I’ve learned that if deployed too late, the big screen enclosure only serves to trap mosquitoes inside.

When we lived aboard, I would always wake up when the boat reoriented itself at a tide change.  Even offshore I’d awaken if we made a significant course change or encountered different wind or sea conditions.  In this case it was the sound of an approaching tug pushing 6 barges that brought me out of a comfortable sleep.  It was 4:30am, but none the less, I took it as a sign to put on the coffee.  Making coffee aboard means filling a styrofoam cup with water and plugging in the 12-volt immersion heater.  The immersion heater draws quite a few amps, so I like to have the motor running.  The only noise an idling Honda makes is the splash of the telltale hitting the water; my daughter remained sleeping below.  Quiet mornings are my favorite time on the boat – sipping coffee while meandering on the water.  Evenings, days and night are also my favorite time while I’m on the water…all day every day I’m aboard is a favorite time.

While the immersion heater boiled the water I deflated the air mattress and stowed the remaining sleeping supplies.  I then dropped the coffee single ‘teabag’ into the cup, pulled in the hook and got underway while the coffee brewed.  It was dark and my daughter was still asleep, so I put her on 1,400 rpm and quietly slithered up the river at about 5mph, watching the sun come up.

Soon after the sun made its appearance, we come up on the Dresden lock.  The tug that had passed us in the anchorage was laying outside the lock entrance with only 2 barges.  His other 4 barges were in the process of being locked up.  We learned monitoring the VHF that we would be allowed to lock up when the tug took his final two barges up on the next pass.  At the Starved Rock lock, we tied up alongside 2 barges (one behind the other) in front of the tug and were able to get under way as soon as the gates opened. In the Dresden Lock we were behind a pair of barges (which were side by side) next to the tug, and had to wait until the way was totally clear before we were allowed to turn loose of the lines.  All together, it took about 1½ hours to clear the lock at Dresden.

The morning run to the Joliet was pleasant – the commercial traffic seemed to thin out toward Joliet end.  We locked through the Brandon Lock with another pleasure boat.  Brandon appeared to have the largest lift/drop of all the locks we transited – nothing I have tells the difference between pool levels, but I’d guess about 40 feet?  The locking procedure was the same, except at this lock we put the port side to.

Joliet isn’t much of a boater’s town.  Almost the entire length of the city, from the Brandon Lock to the Lockport Lock is bulkheaded.  There are a few places for a boat to tie up, but there are no marinas and no boating facilities of any practical use for a boat our size.  We made the run through town to the Lockport Lock. The pleasure boat we’d shared the Brandon lock with was tied to a bulkhead, waiting to lock up.  I crept close and he signaled me to tie up to port side.  I declined, suggesting that we looking for a nearby ramp.  We were told it was 25 to 30 miles past the Lockport Lock (on the Cal Sag) before we’d run into a marina upriver.  We also learned that there was a boat ramp in the Joliet area, back at Ruby Street.  We went back to Ruby Street and sure enough, there was a gravel stretch that went from a road into the water.  I’m not sure I would have called it a boat ramp, but it looked workable.

 

We tried to call Suzy on the cell phone and were advised that we weren’t cleared to make calls in the area.  I later learned that one needs to establish a PIN with the cell phone folks to use to get clearance for calling from within areas where there are known cell phone security issues.  Anyway, without use of the cell phone we now needed to get ashore to make a call.

 

We found a ladder built into the bulkhead at a Joliet City Hall of some kind, but couldn’t find a public phone anywhere within 10 minutes walking distance of the boat.  A passer by suggested that the only phone we were going to find within a reasonable distance of the water would be in the Harrah’s Gambling complex.  We tied up just upstream from those giant gambling ships and had to scale 6’ of concrete bulkhead to get landside.  I still have a bruise on my chin.

Not long later, we were met by the trailer at the Ruby ‘ramp’.  The current was so strong I brought the boat up perpendicular to the trailer and spun her on the trailer guide, up onto the bunks.  In no time we were on our way to Blue Island by car – to visit Suzy’s sister Barbie.

Blue Island is a suburb of Chicago.  It’s not really on the Calumet Sag Channel, but it can’t be more than a couple miles to the ramp.  From Blue Island, the Cal Sag runs West to join with the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal.  Going east, the Cal Sag eventually takes one into Calumet Harbor on Lake Michigan.  The waters between Joliet and Chicago are confusing.  It’s actually the Des Plaines River that runs through Joliet, but at the Lockport Lock, the navigable channel changes to the Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal with the Des Plaines River taking a parallel route for awhile, then heading north.  Also in Joliet, the Des Plaines River branches into the now abandoned Illinois and Michigan Canal (at of all places, Ruby Street).  So to get from Joliet to the Chicago waterfront, one would take the Des Plaines into Joliet, and the CS&SC out of Joliet.  The CS&SC then turns into he South Branch of the Chicago River.  The South Branch leads to the Chicago River (where the South Branch, North Branch and Chicago River converge in Downtown Chicago), then there’s a short stretch of about a mile of Chicago River, then through the Chicago Lock and out into Lake Michigan.  This route should only be taken by someone who knows about bridges and openings if they need more than 8 feet or so vertical clearance.  We didn’t require even one bridge opening all the way from Peoria to the Chicago waterfront, but there are plenty of low bridges in and around the Chicago downtown area…some that looked to need an act of Congress to facilitate opening.  The other route, longer but less restrictive, would be SC&SC out of Joliet until it meets it meets the Cal Sag.  Then Cal Sag to the Little Calumet River, which turns into the Calumet River just South of the Thomas Obrien Lock.  Then through the lock and out to Calumet Harbor on Lake Michigan.  One would then head north 10 miles or so to the Chicago waterfront.  I did see very large commercial ships heading toward Calumet Harbor, so I know that route has routine bridge openings, but I noted nothing that led me to believe bridges were routinely opened in Chicago.

After exchanging pleasantries with Suzy’s sister in Blue Island, I said I was going to put the boat in the Cal Sag at the Blue Island ramp (officially I think the ramp is in Alsip) and asked if anyone cared to join me.  I explained that the plan was to backtrack to Lockport to see what the waters were like between Blue Island and the upper lock at Joliet (Lockport Lock) – it was only about 25 miles each way…I’d be back in 3 or 4 hours.  There were no interested parties; I left for the ramp alone.

The banks were wooded on both sides as I headed west from the Alsip ramp, which by the way was a first class ramp.  The going was so pleasant I thought about going back to get my wife and or daughter, but couldn’t convince myself to turn around – maybe they could join me tomorrow?   About 10 miles west of the ramp at the junction of the Cal Sag and Chicago Sanitary and Ship Canal, the way west became extremely commercial and narrow.  There was more barge traffic on the water and industry on the shores than I’ve ever experienced in all my boating days.  It would be at least another 10 miles or so to the Lockport Lock and I debated on whether or not to brave the stink and traffic on the river, but decided, ‘what the heck’.

That stretch from the junction of the Cal Sag and CS&SC to Lockport should not be undertaken unless it is absolutely necessary.  There’s nothing of interest to a pleasure boater along the way – it’s a narrow channel with more floating debris, barges and obnoxious odors than you can imagine.  When I approached the Lockport Lock I was glad I didn’t have to go any farther and was not looking forward to the return trip.  I eventually did return to the serenity of a wider channel with tree lined banks at the junction of the Cal Sag, but thought I’d just mosey up along the CS&SC for a short spell instead of going right back to the ramp.  Before I knew it I was too close to downtown Chicago to think about going back without taking a peek.

There are a few marinas along the way, all toward the Lake Michigan end of the Chicago River.  There’s not much to see at these facilities, they are not much more than a dock along the river with most of the activity happening off the water and out of view.  This was a disappointment, as one of my pleasures is to leisurely idle through marinas or anchorages, gawking at the floating real estate, but there was plenty of real real estate to gawk at as I made my way through downtown Chicago.  A fellow could get a stiff neck looking up at all those skyscrapers.  OK, I couldn’t turn around now and go back to the ramp, without getting my boat wet in Lake Michigan…on to the Chicago Lock!

As I was drifting outside the Chicago Lock, waiting for the gates to open, I found myself in the company 8 or 9 other pleasure boats wanting to lock through.  As the lock gates opened, a loudspeaker squawked instructions.  The only part of the discourse I could understand was that pleasure boat crews were required to wear life jackets in the lock and it was forbidden to leave the boat while in the lock.  I donned my life jacket, found a clear spot along the lock wall and grabbed one of the dangling lines with my starboard side to.

It’s embarrassing when you can’t control your boat in a lock.  As we began our 2-foot ascent, the current started to swing my bow toward the center of the lock.  Being alone, it was too much for me to manage – hanging onto a line, fending off and keeping a fore and aft orientation.  By the time the gates opened, I had turned 180 and was working the line from the port side, but I hadn’t bumped anyone – the only damage was to my pride…  I tried to be casual about the episode, mentioning to the skipper behind me, well, now in front of me, that I thought it was a good idea to require life jackets in the lock.

 

Lake Michigan was gorgeous!  Clean water, nice gentle swells, blue sky; my boat really likes Lake Michigan.  I had plans to put in at one of the Chicago ramps later in the week, so I knew I could put off exploring the lakefront until then, but this kind of opportunity was too good to pass up.  I decided I’d dash south down the lake to Calumet Harbor, and go back to Blue Island via the Calumet River and Cal Sag.  I did have a NOAA chart of Chicago so I put in a waypoint at the Calumet Harbor breakwater entrance, did a GOTO and followed the track; what a glorious ride.  The water looked so inviting I was tempted to stop and go for a swim, but I knew I’d run out of daylight before getting back as it was.

There was a huge freighter negotiating the Highway 41 bridge just inside the Calumet Harbor entrance.  Clearance was so tight I waited about 20 minutes until he and his tugs were well on their way into the harbor.  There is much industry along the Calumet River, but the commercial water traffic was rather thin.

 

The Thomas Obrien lock is just beyond the 130^th Street Bridge.  I missed the turn under the 130^th street bridge because I took for granted that the wide water was the proper direction.  It’s not far to the dead ended turning basin.  There is a sign on the bulkhead at the lock that instructs pleasure boat skippers to push the button to request passage – so I did.  There was no other traffic, commercial or pleasure, in the area. I could see well downstream over the empty lock while I waited for almost ½ hour for the lock gates to open.  I was to be the only boat in the lock.  As I entered, I chose a ladder to starboard that I could latch onto to prevent the embarrassment I experienced in the Chicago lock.  The gates were closing behind me as I slowed for the ladder, but as I reached out to grab a rung, a current pushed me into the middle of the lock.  I regrouped, made for the next ladder and experienced the same problem.  I did a 180 in the lock to get back to a center position and was beginning to make a pass for the ladder again when I noticed the downstream gates opening.  Maybe you don’t tie up in the Obrien lock…just hang around in the middle of the lock until the gates open?

There were several marinas after the lock, accompanied by No Wake signs.  I don’t mind going slow – I like to look at the boats and check out the facilities.  We all, however have been aggravated by the plethora of hand written Idle Speed, No Wake signs plastered on every piling along rows and rows of vacant slips.  It was with a chuckle, and then camera that I observed a large professionally executed sign, proudly strung across a railroad overpass, which declared, “BEGIN WAKE HERE!”

I followed the Little Calumet River to the Cal Sag and made the ramp at Alsip at just about sundown.  It had certainly taken me more than the 4 or 5 hours I had suggested I’d be away on the boat, but my wife understands.  She noticed it first when we lived aboard -- no matter what the circumstances, if there is water nearby, there becomes no way to estimate how long a given task will take.  I remember being at a marina overnight.  I got up at 6:30am telling Suzy, “I’m going to make a quick trip to the head ashore.”  I made it back to the boat around noon.  I’d met a fellow in the head who had a friend who couldn’t get his outboard running, they’d planned to do some early morning fishing…you know the rest of the story.  Or we’d be staying in a motel near the harbor.  I’d say, “I’m going to walk the docks for a few minutes.”  I’d run into someone I knew, or someone who had gear I was interested in, or someone looking confusedly into on open engine hatch, and those few minutes turned into several hours.  Today she still understands that the proximity of water can grossly distort estimates of time, and will usually not turn me loose unless she has some project to get immersed in while I’m away.  In this case, she’d been with her sister Barbie and her kids; consequently the hot water I could have found myself in was barely luke warm; and after all, I did offer her the option of coming along.

Our next marine experience was not actually a boating experience.  We drove boatless to downtown Chicago.  We did the Museum of Art, wandered about the loop for a spell, then checked out Burnam Park Harbor.  The plan was to tow the boat to a ramp near downtown, and Burnam looked like the ticket.  We checked out the ramp on the Meigs Field side of the harbor, then looked at the ramp near the dockmaster shack on the Soldiers Field side.  We liked the ‘dockmaster’ ramp better as it was easier to get to, less congested and they have a little store there, complete with ice and bathrooms.

My daughter opted to check out the Chicago waterfront by boat with me the next day, and we also made arrangements to meet one of Suzy’s brothers at Chicago Harbor after he got off work.  We arrived at the Burnam ramp early in the day, paid our $15 and launched with supplies enough to last all day.

The first order of business was to check out the boats in the harbor, and while the Chicago River was basically void of this potential, Burnam Harbor was a gold mine of boats.  However, the beautiful Chicago skyline against the clear blue sky soon lured us out into Lake Michigan.  We knew that later in the day we’d be picking up brother Bill from the fuel dock in Chicago Harbor, so we skirted the inner breakwaters of the harbor and headed to Navy Pier.

Navy Pier was flanked by a fleet of interesting tour/dinner boats.  On the Pier itself there appeared to be all kinds of activities, although we never did go ashore there.  We made our way around Navy Pier inside the breakwaters, then headed North up the beach.  We missed the entrance to Diversey harbor because we got excited about the possibilities inside the more evident entrance into Belmont Harbor.  Belmont Harbor did not disappoint us; there were many and varied boats to check out on moorings and along the many piers.  Satisfied we’d missed nothing in Belmont, we headed north to Montrose.  Montrose was another wealth of marine sights.  Then, finally realizing we’d missed Diversey, we headed back south to check it out.

Diversey Harbor is exclusively powerboats.  There’s a ‘tunnel’ under Lake Shore Drive that prohibits clearances above 14’.  There’s also a traffic light on each end of the tunnel.  You wait for the green light before entering – in and out traffic takes turns at 10-minute intervals. The schedule is posted near the light.  We observed local boaters obeying the light, so we did too.  We toured the harbor at a leisurely pace, then as we approached one of the moored boats at the end of the harbor we noticed something sticking up from the blue boat cover.  As we got closer, we realized it was just one of those plastic owls, placed at the top of the windshield on top of the cover, presumably to keep the birds from making their mess all over the boat.  As we rounded the stern, we saw that a plastic snake had also been placed on the cover and that cuddled up to the snake was a seagull.  Another gull joined his friend, settling in at the base of the owl.  Needless to say, the blue cover was a mess of white bird droppings.

There’s a bridge at the south end of Diversey Harbor with a sign that says, “No Motors Beyond This Point”.  Of course we honored the sign, but have since decided that if we know such an area exists (one that is off limits to motors) we will take our little inflatable dinghy with us which we will deploy to explore those areas.

We had about 45 minutes to kill before meeting Bill, so we headed south to see if we could find the 59^th Street Harbor, or Jackson Park Harbor, but as we approached the Museum of Science and Industry area we ran out of time and headed back.  We didn’t mind missing those places; it was just as nice being out on Lake Michigan.

We explored a bit of Chicago Harbor before reporting to dock where we planned to meet Bill.  He wasn’t there yet so we explored another area, keeping an eye on the dock.  After we picked our passenger, we explored the rest of the Chicago Harbor before heading to the Chicago Lock.

Bill told us that Navy Pier had a fireworks show that night.  We planned to be back in the area by 9:00pm to take in the show, but there was plenty of time to explore the North Branch of the Chicago River first.  As we motored out of the Chicago Lock we noticed a water cannon blasting an arc of water across the river ahead.  As we approached, we realized there was no way we could proceed without passing under this screen of water.  There were boats on both sides of this hazard, contemplating options for a dry passage.  We decided to just brave the water and head through.  We got a little wet, but actually enjoyed the experience.

There’s a bridge on the Chicago River between the Lake and the fork of the North Branch and South Branch that has two 40 or 50 foot paintings mounted on the underside.  These Picasso like paintings can readily be seen by boaters going under the bridge, but would only be evident to land based folks when the bridge was open.  It’s a feather in Chicago’s cap to have sponsored this bit of unexpected art in such an unconventional location.

Because I had enjoyed the south Branch of the Chicago River through the downtown area, when we came to the junction, I suggested we take the South Branch for a spell before exploring the North Branch as planned.  It’s fascinating to see such a big city from the water with its commuters in cabs, cars and on foot, busily crossing the bridges and traversing the sidewalks.  We did a 180 at the Chinatown Marina and even though I’d just been down this section of the river and also covered it earlier in the week, there were many sights I saw along the way for the first time.

The North Branch is not unlike the South Branch, but it does have its unique sights.  As we headed north, we cruised through various areas of industry, residences and at its northern end, the North Branch turns into a narrow shallow channel with woods on both sides.  A casual glance at the chart might lead one to believe that this wooded channel would eventually allow passage to Lake Michigan at Wilmette.  A close look however, reveals a “Sluice Gate – Closed to Navigation” just short of the harbor.  It got dark and late as we made our way up the narrow wooded channel, so much so that we decided we’d better turn around if we wanted to see the fireworks at Navy Pier.

Even though it was pretty dark, there were long clear stretches on the way back where we put the boat on a plane.  There were pockets of bugs in various places that would hit our faces in such numbers it was hard to keep your eyes open at planing speeds but were hardly noticeable at all at lower speeds and whatever kind of bugs they were, they didn’t bite.  We got back to the Chicago Lock just before 9pm and put on our life jackets in preparation to lock up.  There was quite a bit of both pleasure boats, as well as a couple sightseeing/dinner cruisers waiting to lock up.  We turned the VHF to 14 to see if we could get a feel for the wait.  Worst case, we could just watch the fireworks from the Chicago River.

We hadn’t been monitoring 14 long, when we heard, “We’re losing him, we’re losing him!” on the radio.  Radio conversations between a dinner boat in the lock, the lockmaster and the Coast Guard revealed that someone on the dinner boat had gone overboard.  The place was soon alive with divers, fire trucks, ambulances and a helicopter.  We learned from exchanges on the VHF that a passenger on the dinner boat, who was part of a large party, had gotten off the boat while locking down.  This fellow had run up the lock and across the gate, then came back to the boat.  While reboarding, the fellow tried to climb up to the top deck, lost his footing and fell.  He hit his head on the way down and went straight to the bottom of the lock.  Two other passengers went in to try and pull him out, but were unsuccessful.  We waited about an hour and a half before the lock resumed operation; we had no option because it was the only way we could return to the Burnam Harbor ramp where we left our car and trailer.  We didn’t mind the delay, but it was eerie knowing what was going on in the lock only a few feet from where we waited.

The ride from the Chicago Lock to Burnam Harbor was exhilarating.  The seas were a couple feet and choppy.  It was too dark to see what lay ahead.  We tried to be ready for regular facefulls of spray with no warning.  Compared to some of the drenchings I’ve experienced in Albermarle and Pamlico Sounds, the freshwater face washings of Lake Michigan at 75+ degrees was quite pleasant.

After entering Burnam Harbor, even though it was dark, it was hard for me not to finish exploring the areas I’d missed earlier, but it was after 11pm and we needed to get home.  We limited our explorations to only 3 or 4 finger piers, after which we headed to the ramp.  QT obediently settled on her trailer and in a matter of minutes we were on our way down the Dan Ryan Expressway to Bill’s house.

You’ve probably heard me exclaim, “There’s no place I’d rather be than on the ICW!”, and while it is still true, Lake Michigan and the Chicago waterfront are tops on my list for another visit.

Car miles – 2,327

Boat Miles – 248.6

Boat fuel – 33.1

Engine hours – 31.9

 

QT Log

a)      Around Down East -- 9/12/98-9/20/98

b)      Start of Around Alone, Charleston 9/25-26/98

Around Down East

Having retirement too far on the horizon to defer satisfaction of anticipated long-range adventures, I take short cruises once a month, with a couple weeklong outings a year.  It hadn’t been that long since I put QT in the Illinois River at Peoria and cruised the rivers and canals to Lake Michigan, but we had an incentive to spend some time in the Beaufort/Morehead area of North Carolina (we would meet long time friends there) and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

Beaufort was our home during the hurricane seasons when we lived aboard our 27’ sloop in the 70’s. We’d spent a lot of time gunk holing back then, but had avoided places where our 4’ draft would get us into trouble.  “QT”, our current boat, is a 15’11” outboard powered cuddy.  It is just the ticket to explore those shallow areas.

Our first adventure began at the ramp at Seagate, a little marina on Adams Creek Canal.  There were four of us aboard, and a smaller pitch prop was in order for the 50 HP Honda to get the boat on a plane.  We took the ICW south to Gallants Channel and headed into Beaufort.  We knew from experiences with the sailboat (and a trawler which we owned briefly in ’91), that the current can easily set one onto a shoal on either side of Gallants Channel.  Unlike our other boats, in QT grounding is little more than chance to jump overboard and walk the boat into deeper water.  We leisurely took in the Beaufort waterfront, then continued down Taylor Creek past the fish factory.

There’s a protected passage from the end of Taylor Creek to the inside of Lookout Bight.  The passage isn’t exceptionally well marked and sometimes even when you think you’re in the channel, the depth sounder tells otherwise.  We were careful to leave the pair of green markers closely to starboard as we bore south after clearing Carrot Island.  We crabbed in the current to stay in the channel, but the sounder still complained of a 2-foot depth.  The shallow alarm was set at 4 feet and remained silent during the remainder of our run to Harkers Island and then along it’s south shore to the straight, well marked channel to the narrows between Shackleford and Core Banks.  The markers are then uncharted for the snaking passage into the bight but aren’t hard to follow unless you spend too much time watching the wild horses on Shackleford Banks.  We dropped the hook just inside Power Squadron Spit and walked ashore.

Lookout Bight is a strange spot orientation wise.  You’re swinging on the hook, knowing the ocean is a quarter mile or so beyond the spit.  Just about anywhere else on the East Coast, this would mean you are facing east.  In Lookout Bight, it means you’re facing West.  I look at the compass, then the horizon, then the chart and still have trouble getting oriented.  Anyway, after playing for a couple hours in the surf on the ocean side, we returned to QT, then headed Northwest out of the bight and made our way across Onslow Bay to the Beaufort Inlet. 

The leg from Cape Lookout Bight to the Beaufort Inlet was lumpy as it always is. My crew commented that the waters we were now in were much rougher than the surf we had been playing in on the ocean side of the bight – more on that later.  It’s a rule on QT to wear life jackets while running an inlet, so we all four donned the jackets as we cut into the channel at the second pair of markers from the sea buoy.  The ride in was exciting, as you would expect it to be in a 15’ boat.  We left Radio and Pivers Islands to port, redid the Beaufort waterfront, then retraced our track, back to Seagate.  We got in just after sundown – the mosquitoes were waiting for us at the dock.

I mentioned that I spend one weekend a month aboard.  During these outings I try to make a personal visit to fellow boater I’ve previously known only via the Internet.  I’d know about CaptnWil from the Trawler World list; his address was somewhere in New Bern, not terribly far from where we would be staying.  I had e-mailed CaptWil that I might be in the area, and he said it would be OK for me to stop by if I had the chance.  I had the chance and caught CaptWil and his wife just returning home from a morning of varnishing on his Krogen, AFTERSAIL. 

My boating motto is, “There’s no place I’d rather be than on the ICW” so it wasn’t surprising that the majority of time was spent sharing the joys of the waterway.  The conversation eventually led to the area of Onslow Bay between Cape Lookout and the Beaufort Inlet.  I knew those waters were always lumpy and unpredictable, but never gave it much thought beyond that.  CaptnWil was also keenly aware of this phenomenon and offered the explanation that it results from the geography of the area.  Wind and seas are funneled into Shackelford banks by Lookout shoals, then bounce off both Shackleford and Lookout to form waves that appear to just come up from the bottom – there’s no organization to them and often there’s no predicting when and where the next one will happen.  A few years back I had made this passage in my 35’ trawler, regularly taking water over the bow, and rolling so badly that the full size refrigerator broke loose and bounced down the stairs into the aft cabin.  If you’re going to do this run, be sure you have everything secure.

Wil is a gold mine of useful information, the most important tidbit I gleaned from my visit was that he would soon be taking AFTERSAIL to Charleston to see the beginning of the Around Alone race.  I’d seen parts of a documentary of the last Around Alone Race and being an ex ragbagger with some blue water experience I am in total awe of these single-handed sailors.  I didn’t know enough about the race to know when or where the next one would happen but when I found out from CaptnWil that it would be next weekend in Charleston, I knew I had to be there.  CaptnWil said he’d had a slip at Ripley Light – I told him I’d stop by and say hi during the festivities. 

One of our crew of 4 had to make a day trip back north on business.  After we got him on his way to the airport, we had a few hours of sunlight left to spend on the water.  After I changed back to the standard prop, we put QT in at the Beaufort ‘fish factory’ ramp.  Heading west up Taylor Creek, we leisurely took in the Beaufort waterfront, then skirted Radio Island on our way to Morehead City.  Morehead and Beaufort are so close, yet so different.  Morehead is business/commercial, with Sport Fishing charters, Headboats, Dive Boats and a boatyard.  Beaufort is tourist with a Maritime Museum including a Watercraft Center (where you can observe craftsmen building wooden boats), a host of Historic attractions and craft shops.  After seeing Morehead, from the water, we headed back to Beaufort, but as we approached the LCU training ramp at Radio Island we decided to have a look at the Ocean Side of Bird Shoals.  We then just continued on around and approached Taylor Creek from the Lenoxville Point end.  On your way back by car, it’s always a good idea to stroll the Beaufort Boardwalk.

The next expedition again began in Taylor Creek from the ramp near the fish factory.  This time, when we cleared Carrot Island, instead of swinging hard to starboard, we lit out straight across the shoals to pick up the channel that would take us north of Harkers Island.  The sky darkened and the wind increased as we left the Harkers Island Bridge astern.  We continued east in The Straits until it began to rain, then ducked into the little harbor at Marshalburg.  We decided to hook out for lunch while we waited out the rain.  We watched the birds as we dined on peanut butter sandwiches.

We followed the dark clouds out of the harbor, then continued along the zig zagging channel across Core Sound.   The sane thing to do would have been to waypoint the markers in the GPS and do a route to make sure we stayed in deep water for this challenging passage.  On my other boats, I would have meticulously done this, but in QT the spontaneous adventure of deciding which way to go at each marker was in order.  On a couple occasions we did do a GOTO to the coordinates of the next marker because we couldn’t find our way into deep enough water get the 4’ shallow alarm to silence.

We cut through Cedar Island at Thorofare – Thorofare appears to be a land cut between Thorofare Bay and West Thorofare Bay.  The GMCO Chartbook of NC bills Thorofare as a 3’ X 40’ channel.  My sounder never got as low as 5 feet while we were in the cut.  Old Canal off of Long Bay allows access to the Neuse River via Turnagain Bay.  Old Canal, AKA Indian Ditch is shown in the Chartbook as 4’, and we did see depths approaching 4’ on our passage, but none less.  We beached QT on a sandy area near Abraham Bay for a swim, then headed out into the Neuse.  The ICW at Adams Creek was a welcome relief after the chop of the Neuse.  In fact as we rounded Garbacon, my wife demanded we slow down off the plane to keep the tiring pounding and spray to a minimum. 

We headed down Adams Creek, past Seagate and on to Beaufort.  This pass however, we opted for the back channel off the ICW into Gallants Channel.  For deeper draft boats, this would be the preferred approach as the depths are better and the current isn’t as strong as coming directly in from the ICW.  The sun came out as we leisurely cruised the Beaufort waterfront and it stayed up long enough for us to get QT back on her trailer.  I could tell it was close, but this day we beat the mosquitoes to the ramp.

Our final day on the water was with the full compliment of 4.  We put into Bogue Sound at the city ramp in Morehead near the Hospital.  The current rips through the area, but the ramp is far enough from the channel so it is not a significant problem.  From the ramp we headed west to explore Pelletier and Spooners Creeks.  On the return, we beached QT on a spoil bank and had such an interesting time exploring that we spent most of the day there.  On the way back to the ramp, we came across an inverted Jet Ski with 3 fellows crawling all over it.  Ignoring the many, many times these irritating rigs had tested my patience and sanity, I asked if we could help.  We learned that the poly towline to their tube had been sucked in the water intake and had wrapped around the shaft enough times to bind it up tight.

We brought the upside down Skidoo alongside QT and using tools I keep aboard, we removed the grate allowing access to the wrapped shaft.  I cut the poly line in several places, unwound it and replaced the grate.  We righted the skidoo, but after each of the three of them tried unsuccessfully to climb aboard it, we decided it had taken on too much water to be stable enough to ride.  While we were trying to hook a line to it’s bow, it went deeper and deeper in the water.  By the time we did get the tow line rigged, only about 3 feet of the Skidoo bow was sticking straight up out of the water.

I towed (dragged would be a better word) the mostly submerged Jet Ski about 5 miles before deciding it wasn’t self-bailing.  I headed for the beach, but the submarining Skidoo started hitting the bottom in about 18” of water.  I put its crew overboard to push the Jet Ski to the beach.  Evidently, there’s no bilge pump on the Jet Ski…full of water, up on the beach, there was no sign of any water being pumped out; we had to pull the drain plug to empty the boat.  Back in the water with a dry bilge, the starter didn’t even budge the engine even though there was a strong clicking.  We pulled all 3 plugs, then tried the starter.  The results were a triple dose of Old Faithful; water gushing out of the cylinders each time the piston came up.  We spun the motor with the plugs out for 15 second intervals until only a light vapor was ejected.  We then put a single plug in and connected the wire.  When we knew it would hit on that cylinder, we put the Jet Ski back in the water and lit it up.  After the single cylinder responded predictably to the throttle, we reinstalled the other 2 plugs.  We waved goodbye to the 3 jet skiers as they headed off, wondering if we were ever as totally naive about our boat, it’s mechanics and the dangers that can be served up by Neptune.

In our early sailing days, my wife and I crewed on a Sea Wolf ketch for a doctor in Beaufort.  His name was Doc Mason…Every time we leave the area, his words echo in my head, “When you leave Beaufort, it’s the beginning of a round trip”.

Car Miles = 1,082

Engine Hours = 16.5

Boat Miles = 149.8

Boat Fuel = 28.9

Anyone planning on visiting the Beaufort/Morehead area (part of the Crystal Coast) should first surf to:

http://www.sunnync.com/tdbml.htm.  You can apply on line for a tourist package which list prices of the motels and info for other area services from Charter Boats to Marinas to Ferry Schedules to golf to restaurants to nightlife and special attractions.

Start of Around Alone, Charleston 9/25-26/98

I don’t think most folks can appreciate what sailing around the world single handed means.  Twenty-seven thousand miles.  How many miles do you put on your car in a year?  How trips to Grandma’s?  On our last vacation we traveled 500 miles each way – I thought that was plenty…and it rained on me while I was getting gas – I couldn’t wait to get to the warm motel room.  The Around Alone sailors won’t get back to Charleston until next Spring, and there are no comfortable motel rooms along the way.

My wife and I made a trip from Nassau to Beaufort NC in our sailboat.  We ran into 20+ foot seas in the Gulf Stream, with winds gusting to 50mph or more.  There were a couple times when the boat was taking on water through the little openings in the companionway hatch (on top of the cabin) because waves were breaking over the boat. It’s not fun; it’s not comfortable, but at least we had each other.  The Around Alone competitors don’t have anyone else…for 27,000 miles – in conditions that regularly pale my experiences.  Boats and even lives are lost in the race.  No, I don’t think many of us can appreciate what those sailors must endure.  I wanted to be there when the race started, because it would help me understand a little better what sailing around the world alone means.

I’ve used almost all the ramps in the Charleston area.  I use the ramp at the City Marina most – it’s convenient and I don’t worry about leaving my truck there overnight, plus I often get in the water late and it’s only a short hop across the Ashley to the anchorage where I like to spend the night..  Wild Dunes is my second choice.  But as we approached Charleston pulling the trailer, we decided that the City Marina ramp would be packed and Wild Dunes would mean we’d run out of daylight before we got the boat in the water.  We opted for the Wapoo Cut Public Ramp.

Things were sane as we unfastened the tiedowns and replaced the drain plug, but just as we were backing into the water about 10 cars with boats filed into the ramp area.  We got launched and under way before it got chaotic, but I did pull up alongside one of the locals to ask why the onslaught of boats all at once.  He answered my question in two words, “Tide – shrimp”.

We looked up CaptnWill at Ripley Light and learned that the Around Alone party was going on around the other side of the Battery at the Maritime Center.  It was sunset by the time we got there; we took in as much from the water as we could before it got dark.  For me, there was an indescribable feeling in the air – I’d tell you about it, but it’s indescribable.

We made our way back to the anchorage in front of the City Marina in the dark.  There’s always a spot for me there because I drop the hook in about 6’ of water; everyone else is out where it’s deeper.  We put up the no-seeum netting, unrolled the sleeping bag and settled in for the night.

We were up before dawn…wanted to have a cup of hot java in hand to watch the sun come up.  We then made our way back to the Maritime Center and tied up to a dinghy dock right amidst those Open 60’s.  It wasn’t long before we got run off, but not until after I’d made a trip down the docks for a close up look.

We drifted in front of Schutes Folly Island until the competitors began being towed from the docks into open water.  We then found a good vantagepoint outside the channel near Fort Sumpter and watched the parade heading to the Departure Zone.  We swung in line behind the last racer, following the crowd out the inlet to be at the starting line when the gun was fired.

I read a review that said there were between 500 and 600 spectator boats to watch the beginning of the race.  Not counting a couple jet skis, I’d have to say at 15’11”, we were probably the smallest boat out there.  We had a front row seat at the starting line because we needed vary little space and were highly maneuverable.  Everything considered, the mass of floating spectators was well mannered and considerate.

The gun…the beginning of the race, was somewhat anti-climactic.  We wouldn’t be there to cheer on the winner as he (or she) crossed the finish line.  We wouldn’t even be there for the end of the first leg - some 7,000 miles from Charleston.  But we did cheer them away; wished them well, and thanked them for the wonderment and feeling that is unique to their adventure.

The next QT outing will be a return to Titusville to see another shuttle go up.  

Log of the QT - Stuart Trawlerfest 

April 1998

Spring Break (4/6-10) had been designated as a family vacation week but at the last minute my 17 year old daughter opted to go to the beach with her friends.  Trawlerfest in Stuart hadn’t even been a consideration until 3/31 when important Friday meetings at work were canceled.  We could now leave early Friday, see some trawlers on Saturday and do the Listee Linkup on Sunday as a beginning to our week in Florida with our trailerable mini-stink QT.

My wife Suzy and I scoured the trawler market in ’93.  We eventually purchased a 35’ Senator, but the distance between our home and the boat was more than we could manage so we sold her.  We currently find happiness in our 16’ cuddy, doing much the same kind of cruising we did on the trawler - but with only a fraction of the overhead.  We weren’t looking for a trawler on our vacation in Florida, but we always enjoy being around boats and boaters.  Even though we weren’t in the market for a boat, my brother-in-law has been talking about long range cruising for a year or so and Trawlerfest was the ideal opportunity for us to not only be at the water but also to pick up boat info for him.

Suzy and I lived aboard for 3+ years in the 70’s; as crew for a year on 2 different sailboats and the rest of the time aboard our own 27’ sloop.  We’d sailed from Rhode Island and Sodus Bay on Lake Ontario, to the Keys, Bahamas and Southern Grenadines.  With the adventure and experience provided by our time aboard, and knowing that ‘uncle George’ and my sister would occasionally want us to crew on their ocean passages, we decided that even though George had expressed a preference for sail, we would do our best to get them in a trawler.  Because of our search in ’93, we’d already become familiar with many of the trawlers at the Trawlerfest...except for the Nordhavn 50 - which we immediately felt would make the perfect boat for my relatives.  I had previously sent George an information packet on Nordhavn, but now I had pictures and a personal evaluation to use as ammunition.

Saturday, after getting our fill of boats from dockside, we put QT in the water and witnessed Trawlerfest from the St Lucie River. We then headed QT inland to take a tour of the St Lucie South Fork to the lock.  It’s a nice quiet stretch, especially considering how much chop the wind was building on the open water.  We’re sensitive to the chop, being only 15’11", but we still sleep and eat aboard, thanks to the cuddy which accommodates 2, a large ice chest, 14 gallon h2o tank, porta-potty and single burner propane camp stove. We anchor out most of the time, but even at a buck a foot our nights at a marina are only $16.  We spend most of our time underway at less than 10 mph, but can go almost 30mph if  necessary (we get up 11mpg @  trawler speeds with our Honda 50) and seldom need to wait for a bridge to allow for our 6’ vertical clearance.

After our tour, we put QT back on the trailer and spent our second night at the Holiday Inn in Stuart.  Back at the room, I called George in Hawaii to tell him I had been aboard a Nordhavn 50.  My enthusiasm for the N50 was contagious, and during our phone conversation George began making plans to fly in from Hawaii to see the boat.  More on the N50 front as things progress, but in the meantime, I’d be most interested in talking with owners of N50’s or anyone who has anything to say about them.

The Listee Linkup happened Sunday morning on schedule, aboard REKORD.  You’ve no doubt already read Bob Hodgen’s account of the experience via his post "TW Listee Linkup at Stuart" (thanks Bob).  I sure enjoyed Capt. Sharp’s stories and have never seen the likes of that semi diesel!  I didn’t have an opportunity to put listee faces with the e-mail names, but that seems to be the way with us internetters – maybe next year we could wear T shirts with our e-mail names/addresses on them.  After the Listee Linkup, Suzy and I trailered QT toward the St Johns River at DeLand.

Late Sunday afternoon, watching other boaters getting their rigs on the trailers at the DeLand ramp was an experience.  Suzy and I likened it to the entertainment of being one of the first boats in an anchorage – watching others execute the art of attaching their craft to the sea floor.  I usually launch/retrieve alone, so I’ve got it down pretty much to a science - we were in the water with a minimum of effort and out on the river in no time after we identified our opportunity to launch.

We went north up the St Johns River, diverted toward Lake Woodruff, and dropped the hook in a shallow spot near Highland Park Fish Camp in plenty of time to get the no-see-um/mosquito net up before sundown.  After a very pleasant night and coffee for sunup (watching the sunrise over a cup of java is a pleasure not often missed while aboard), we were on our way again.

Having the GPS bread crumb trail as a fail-safe retreat, we explored one channel after another until the water got too thin for even our 18" draft.  The experience was not unlike the Jungle Ride at Disney World, complete with alligators, birds of all types and vegetation forming an arch over the channel with small branches and leaves brushing the sides and top of the boat as we poked through the narrow passages.  We eventually made our way up to Lake Woodruff, then over to Dexter, then back down the St Johns to the ramp at Hwy 44.

We spent the night at a motel in Madison on the 300+ mile jaunt from DeLand to Panama City.  We slept in that morning and then headed down to take the coastal route.  We lingered at several places along the coast, making the trip take longer than anticipated, plus we had shopping to do when we would arrive in Panama City.  Not wanting to get caught in the dark in unfamiliar waters, we noted a couple possible anchorage’s near the ramp at the Panama City Municipal Marina, but after getting QT in the water, decided we could make it to West Bay Creek, some 20 miles NW, if we got her on a plane for an hour.  We were securely anchored just past MM 270 in plenty of time to get the bug net up and watch the sun go down.

There was considerable commercial traffic during the night, and the spotlights on those tugs are bright enough to wake a fellow up even when shining through a small tinted port – but we felt safe enough; a comfortable distance from the channel in 24" of water (let’s see – at 7:1 scope in 2 feet of water – hey, I could have just tied my 15’ dockline on the anchor instead of shackling on the long anchor rode).  There was thunder/lightening and some rain during the night, but the cuddy provides enough protected, dry space to sleep comfortably.

The next am, it was coffee for sunup as usual, and we were on our way through ‘the canyon’ to Choctawhatchee Bay.  In 1990, I put an ad in the Boat/US Newsletter, requesting an opportunity to spend some time aboard a trawler prior to purchasing one.  We’d been invited to Ft Walton Beach by Jerry Gilbert to experience a few days aboard his DeFever.  I believe Jerry took us to the west end of Choctawhatchee Bay in the trawler, then up some river in the dinghy to an artesian well.  We tried to get QT into the rivers/canals of the cypress swamp, but never found enough water to get out of the bay even after successfully getting through the maze of pilings.

We spend a lot of time in ‘the canyon’ on the return, watching birds, but knew the waters would be rough again in West Bay, so we allowed extra time for the open water part of the trip.  As we approached the marina to put QT back on her trailer, we decided we had enough time for a quick look at Smack Bayou which was a short way across the intracoastal waterway from the marina.  What a gorgeous, protected area!  We beached QT on white sand spit, went for a swim and decided to spend the night.

It rained again that night, but it was peaceful and dry below.  We had coffee for sunup but hung around watching the birds until well after daylight.  We then headed for the inlet to see what it would be like in 30mph winds with Small Craft Warnings.  If the weather had allowed, we would have run the inlet and headed west in the Gulf to have a look at the 'Spring Break' beaches from the outside, but we knew after listening to NOAA, that there would be no chance of that today.

As we leisurely approached the inlet, we saw swarms of boats coming out of Grand Lagoon.  They seemed to be trolling in patterns in and around the inlet, but no one was venturing out as far as the jetties.  We worked our way through the maze of trolling runabouts, sport fishermen, pontoon and headboats, on into the inlet.  We donned our life jackets and nudged QT to the inside end of the jetties.  There were no breakers, but the swells were big enough that we could only see up - not out when we were in the troughs.  As we roller coastered our way to the outward end of the jetties, Suzy said, "Uncle" and we did a 180.  What a sleigh ride on the way back in.  We’ve never had concerns about the way our little boat handles the swells (as long as there’s no whitecaps), but I was still careful not to let her surf all the way down the face of those big blue rollers.

We idled from one end of Grand Lagoon to the other, taking in all the boats and boating activity, then headed back out into St Andrew Bay where we drifted for an hour or more with the motor off in the morning sun and fresh clear skies.  We decided we ought to think about putting her back on the trailer, but first we’d take another pass at the inlet.

On the way out the inlet the second time, I commented that the swells seemed a little less intimidating, but looking back now, I figure it was more familiarity with the inlet than a change of condition.  We cleared the jetties this time, but I knew that a ride up the beach in the 30mph onshore winds would be more work than pleasure, so we surfed back in again without even attempting to venture out of the channel.  We did a GPS Goto to the ramp; QT obediently settled on her trailer and we were on our the road again.  Before heading the 460 miles back home, we took a drive west on 98/Alt98 to see the beaches filled with Spring Breakers.  We plunked the boat and trailer in Eufaula Lake on the way back north to flush the motor and rinse off the salt water, then it was on home to Spartanburg.

I’m a little shy when it comes to initiating conversation with other boaters, unless they appear to need help, but I’m always happy to listen to opinions and swap sea stories once the ice is broken.  Stop me if you see me - I’ll be the guy in the Greek Captain’s hat wearing white pants and a long sleeve flannel shirt (I'm allergic to sun and bugs) – my wife will be the charming, enthusiastic first mate with the cane or she’ll be navigating her ‘black rolls’.

Car miles = 1,782

Boat miles = 173

Engine hours = 21.6

Boat fuel = 24.5 gallons

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Log of the QT - Hilton Head

11/15-16/97

I usually try to get away on Friday midday for my monthly overnight aboard.  I had pressing matters at work that kept me until 7pm so I opted to turn in early, get a few hours sleep and head out pulling the trailer at 4am.

My destination was Charleston, some 200 miles from my home in Spartanburg.  I had about 50 miles to go on I26 when I impulsively headed south at the I95 interchange.  In earlier experiences with my 16' cuddy, I couldn't wait to get in the water, but lately I find comfort in just being with my boat, whether it's on the water or exploring boating areas by road.

I got off I95 at exit 28 and checked out 3 or 4 public ramps on my way toward Hilton Head.  Eventually I decided that I would put in at the ICW and ended up at the C.C. Haigh ramp between the double bridges at Pinckney Island.  This ramp was as nice as any I'd seen that day and I didn't have reservations about leaving my old truck/trailer overnight.

As I was launching my boat, I met a fellow on the dock who had very recently relocated to HH from Arizona.  I too enjoy walking the docks, even during my weekends aboard.  I reasoned that this fellow was yearning to get out on the water, so I asked him if he'd like to explore the ICW with me for a spell.  He readily accepted.

We leisurely headed south, exploring every hint of a marina between the bridge and Ramshorn Creek.  On the return we swung into Jarvis Creek and poked about the high dollar yachts and expensive developments.  My 'crew' was very appreciative of the opportunity to get in some sea time and we swapped e-mail addresses before I headed north up the ICW.

The sun sets early in November, but I knew there was enough daylight for a visit to Beaufort.  With my 27' sailboat and 35' trawler, I dreaded the thought of leaving the main channel, but in my 16' mini-stink, shallow water is an invitation.  There's a shortcut into Beaufort off of Whitehall Point and I thought I'd give it a shot.  I plowed a furrow at the Beaufort end of the passage, but did make it through.  I tied up with the dinghies and walked the docks and waterfront.  I always find peace while eyeing those expensive elaborate yachts - peace in knowing the simplicity and lack of overhead associated with my little runabout.  When I stay overnight in Beaufort, it costs me $17 and I get water, power and the use of the marina loaner car just like the guys on the 60 footers.

The plan was to start back toward Hilton Head and find a quiet spot to drop the hook for the night.  Back home, the weatherman had forecast 45 degree temps for the HH area that night, but the VHF was suggesting it would get into the low 30's.  My bottom limit is 40 degrees, but I had just installed a little heater/cooker; had the forethought to bring an additional layer of warm clothing, and was somewhat ready to face lower temps.

The giant red sun disappeared as R"2" was abeam (where Port Royal Sound joins the Chechessee River) and even though the full moon and clear night gave me a comforting view, I used my GPS track to monitor my progress into Skull Creek.  I dropped the hook in the protection of the turnout just south of MM155 in about 5 feet of water.  I knew the tide was going out, but figured worse case I'd spend a few hours in the mud and be floating again when I was ready to get underway in the morning.  I put up the top, side curtains, and back canvas to enclose the helm and cuddy, then I set the depth alarm for 2 feet.  I read some from "Voyaging Under Power", donned a hat and extra pair of socks, then snuggled into my sleeping bag at a very dark 8:30 pm.

Beep, beep, beep, beep.  Beep, beep, beep, beep.  I got up to find my depth sounder complaining about the distance between my boat and the bottom.  It was 2am...the VHF was still telling me to expect temps in the 30's.  The full moon was invitingly gorgeous and it couldn't have yet been much below 45 degrees.  I pulled up the hook and slowly made my way back to the ICW, deciding I couldn't waste this precious opportunity for a little nighttime cruising.  I put her on about 5 mph - the Honda 50 outboard was so quiet I could hardly hear it running, and headed back south.  After about 1/2 hour, I decided, what the heck, if it was going to get real cold, maybe I'd just trailer her back up and head toward home -- I could stay warm in the truck and I'd had 5 1/2 hours sleep.  Na, I didn't want to do that, I wasn't finished boating yet -- but it was going to get ice cold...

I decided I would put her back on the trailer, head back toward home in the comfort of my warm truck...grab a catnap at a rest area if needed, and put her back in the water at Lake Murray in Columbia...but not until I'd spent another 1/2 hour or so cruising in the beautiful moonlight.

It was daylight by the time I got to Murray.  I had been putting in at Drehr State Park, but was determined to find a ramp closer to the Interstate.  I discovered Lighthouse Marina on Lowman Creek -- a first class operation with a very nice ramp and convenient parking. The harbormaster looked at me kinda funny as I handed him my $3 ramp fee - it was in the low 40's and there wasn't another soul on the lake.  I spent about 3 1/2 hours poking about on the deserted lake and decided I could make home well before dark if I didn't waste any time.

As I was approaching my exit off I26 I remembered I had forgotten to try my spare composite prop -- I'd been meaning to put it on and give it a try for over 6 months.  Hey, there was a lake about 15 miles past the house, I could run out that way and put her in for an hour or so before heading home.

The 4 bladed composite prop didn't perform as well as the stock 3 bladed aluminum prop, but it would do fine for a spare.  But even if the prop was somewhat disappointing, the weekend certainly hadn't been.

Log of the QT - Stuart to Miami

1/23-30/98

The Intra Coastal Waterway was our home in the ‘70’s while we lived aboard.  We seasonally cruised the waters between the Chesapeake and Miami, spending the hurricane seasons in Beaufort NC and eventually following the sun as far south as the Caribbean.  Fond memories of  experiences on the Florida ICW had me perpetually making plans to return.   We’d owned a trawler for awhile, berthed in Washington NC, but never had the time to get her any farther south than Charleston SC.  The overhead associated with owning a 35’ boat which was kept 350 miles from home became overwhelming and we sold her.  It took 2 years to find a suitable replacement; a boat my wife, daughter and I could spend weekends aboard, one that could take us back to all the places we’d been and also take us to the places we’d missed.  QT is a 15’11" cuddy, sporting a porta-potty, 14 gallon fresh water tank and canvas camper back, pushed by a Honda 50.  She’s the most fun, care-free boat I’ve owned and is my ticket to rekindling all those memories of the ICW.

I am going into the third year of boating with QT - the first year was spent mainly trying to get the new Yamaha outboard to work properly.  After months and months in 5 different Yamaha shops trying unsuccessfully to get the warranty work done, I traded for a Honda and began to enjoy boating again. I had my Florida ICW trip on the back burner while outfitting/customizing my little boat between long weekends aboard.  I did do a couple week long cruises in Florida on QT, to see a shuttle go up from the Banana River, and again to watch a Pensacola Blue Angles air show from the Gulf, before the Southern Florida ICW cruise became a priority.

The plan was to put in around Daytona and head south down the ICW.  Major points of interest were Lake Boca where we lived/worked on the hook for several months in the 70’s, the New River and associated sights in the Lauderdale area that were ‘off limits’ to our sailboat’s 4’ draft and 35’ mast, and No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne where we’d spent layovers waiting for weather to jump the stream to the Bahamas.

It wasn’t until I actually was preparing to launch at the Daytona Municipal Marina, looking at the Manatee signs, that I remembered all the restrictions I’d come across on a trip up the St. Johns River from DeLand to Lake George.  I also remembered getting busted by the water Sheriff for going 5 ½ in what he suggested was a 4.  I decided I’d head farther south to put in.  I meandered down A1A and US1, stopping at marine stores asking about nice ramps where I could leave my truck/trailer for a couple days.  I’m not sure why, but no one offered an enthusiastic response – most would just grunt instructions to a local ramp which they would offer little to no information about.  About the time I got to Stuart, I couldn’t hold off any longer and headed for the nearest ramp.  I was very fortunate to stumble on a state park at Manatee Pocket that had first class facilities.  I put in (no charge for the ramp) and headed south down the ICW.

I headed S-L-O-W-L-Y south would be a better description.  Given free reign, I’ll usually put her on about 20 mph – just a little past where she gets on a plane, slowing to +/- 8mph in interesting areas, and bringing her down to 4 mph or so when courtesy dictates.  According to my GPS trip computer, the restrictions imposed to keep the Manatee safe were limiting my average speed to significantly less than 8 mph.  None the less, I continued south, determined to revisit Hobe Sound as well as all those interesting boating facilities on Lake Worth.  All in all it was a very enjoyable run to Lake Boca where I hooked out for the night, but the Manatee had put a cramp in my schedule.  I decided I’d head back to the Pocket, take the boat out and trailer it closer to Miami, otherwise I’d run out of time.

On the trip back up, I was more familiar with the Manatee rules; No Wake vs. Slow Speed/Minimum Wake and Channel Exempt vs. Channel Included, and knew about how long the restrictions would apply, so I could pay more attention to the surroundings than to the qualifications to avoid getting busted  in restricted areas.  I also began to use the speed restricted portions of the ICW to fix snacks or meals and get things done that required minimum helm attention.

As I approached the ramp back at the Pocket, I realized that I wasn’t ready to put the boat back on the trailer so I spent a couple hours exploring the pocket.  Still not ready to call it quits for the day, I headed toward the St. Lucie Canal that takes one on to Lake Okeechobee.  Once past the open waters of the St. Lucie River, I throttled her back to a high idle and meandered down the canal.  I particularly enjoyed the serenity of the canal; the silent operation of the Honda allows one to soak up all the natural sounds along the banks, and being a four stroke, there’s no intrusive TCW3 oil smell..

Unless I have specific plans on the other side, I hesitate to make a lock passage.  In this case, as I approached the lock, I weighed the advantages of locking through vs. just settling in for the night.  It was Superbowl Sunday, and I decided to hook out and tune in the game.  I found a secluded spot, dropped the hook and before I found the game on the radio, the mosquitoes found me.  I climbed into the cuddy, closed out the bugs, opened some Cheetos and enjoyed the best Superbowl game in years -- on a scratchy AM radio station...

As is often the case while at anchor, I was up way before dawn.  I’ve added a new dimension to boating with the GPS.  Mine makes a bread crumb trail of where I’ve been.  On a nice night, I may use this trail to get out and around before the sun comes up.  This was one of those occasions.  I put the water on for coffee, pulled in the hook and leisurely made my way in the dark back toward Manatee Pocket.  Things look different in the dark, a new view/perspective of the area.  Sipping coffee and loping along the water into the sunrise; it doesn’t get any better…

I put her back on the trailer about 7am and took US1/A1A south, not knowing exactly where I’d end up putting back in.  I decided a spot half way between Lauderdale and Miami would be nice, so I started getting serious about finding a ramp near Hallandale.  I enjoy the sights along A1A but when a public ramp turned up at Sunny Isles just north of Bakers Haulover, I couldn’t resist putting in, especially when the folks at the Marina there said there was no problem leaving the truck and trailer overnight.

I anxiously looked forward to revisiting No Name Harbor at Key Biscayne, but the Manatee signs again dictated a slow pace.  I used much more of the daylight than I had planned, slowly making my way south down Biscayne Bay.  The sights had drastically changed since I’d been through in the 70’s, but I began to get nostalgic as I entered the open water past the Rickenbacker Causeway.  I remembered the nervousness and excitement my wife and I felt 25 years ago at the same spot in anticipation of our first crossing of the Gulf Stream on our way to the Bahamas aboard our 27’ sloop.

Relying on my memory from the ’73 trip, I swept around the southeast end of Key Biscayne and peered ashore for the entrance to No Name.  My depth sounder alarm was set at 4 feet but by the time it started sounding the boat had almost ground to a standstill on a sand bar.  I wasn’t the first to have this experience as the area was full of bald furrows angling across the grassy shallows in every direction.  I tilted the Honda almost out of the water, gave the bottom a couple nudges with my boat hook and idled back into deeper water.  I resigned myself to putting the coordinates of the harbor entrance in the GPS, did a GOTO, and made a straight shot into No Name.

The entrance to No Name bore more Manatee signs, along with a notice that it now cost $10 plus tax to anchor overnight, or there was a $2 charge for day only use.  I wove an idle course in and out of the 6 boats anchored inside, stopping near one to ask the skipper if the harbormaster really stopped by to collect the fee.  I was assured that the fee would be collected.  It didn’t appear that there were any services offered for the $10…I didn’t even see any facilities ashore.  I dodged a manatee on my way out and because the seas were so friendly I anchored on the sand bar about a mile offshore where I had previously run aground.

I ducked into the cuddy for a nap, but after a short while I was awakened by the roar of one jet after another as the evening traffic in and out of the Miami airport regularly passed overhead.   I unhooked and spent some time exploring Hurricane Harbor and some other shallow channels into the island.  I would soon need to pick a spot to spend the night, but with the parade of jets overhead, I couldn’t get excited about the area.  I finally decided I’d keep poking about Key Biscayne until sundown, then head back north.

With the lights of Miami against the night background, I was guided back across Biscayne Bay to the ICW by the GPS bread crumbs.  I kept her at about 8 mph as I knew the greatest danger in following the GPS track is that it can/does get one uncomfortably close to (unlighted) markers.  The GPS also showed me that I needed to crab against the wind and current to hit my Miami mark.  Once I made Miami, I would run the ICW north until I felt like turning in – there would be no shortages of places to hook out along the way.

I dodged scores of small fishing boats in the dark waters between Venetian and Broad Causeways, finally ready to find a quiet anchorage as I passed Bakers Haulover.  There’s a sprawling cove just north of MM 1080; I anchored in the cozy hook at the south end and turned in.  About an hour later, at 1:30am I was awakened by loud crude voices on the bank; it sounded like 5 or 6 guys wondering how they could get out to that little boat anchored just off the shore.  I monitored their boisterous conversations until I was comfortable that I was beyond their reach, and settled back in.  Their ‘partying’ woke me up 2 or 3 more times before it got quiet enough to sleep the night out.

The next morning I continued north, again complying with the Manatee signs.  It sometimes appears that the Manatee like to hang out in high rent districts – the bigger the houses on shore, the more apt one is to have Manatee (or at least Manatee restrictions?).   I suppose all these Florida water craft restrictions are for the best, but it takes some getting used to.  It could have been worse.  I imagined myself at "Idle Speed No Wake" (4 mph?) on a sweltering hot day with mosquitoes, no-see-ums and green headed flies having me for lunch…

There’s a new addition to the waterway in the Dania area.  It’s a gambling casino posing as a catamaran, with a footprint the size of a football field.  I could have easily motored cleanly between the two hulls.  I wondered how they would get that beast through the A1A bridge to get out to open water. I was favored to witness the event on my return trip when this floating building swung in behind me from Port Everglades.  I put QT in about 4 feet of water at the channels edge and watched this mammoth rig not only successfully navigate the bridge, but also come to a stop and slide sideways up to it’s dock.  And to think I often have trouble getting my boat back on the trailer.

If you’re into boating at all, ya gotta love Lauderdale.  I checked out all the marinas in the adjacent waters, did an idle by at Las Olas where we’d spent several days on a mooring in ’73 and then headed up the New River.  The New River was too complicated to mess with when we were on the sailboat, but QT is the perfect vehicle to use to see the sights. I didn’t have charts for the New River, but that didn’t appear to be a problem and I suppose there were SLOW, NO WAKE and MANITEE signs along the way but I had planned to make this leg at 5 mph or less so I didn’t pay attention to the signs.  There’s so much to see; boats of every kind and nature, tied one behind the other for miles along the banks.  Boat yards, bridges, estates, water taxis, tour boats, folks along the shores …

I don’t usually have to worry about bridges as I only need about 6’ of vertical clearance, but there was a low railroad bridge down with a work crew grinding and welding away.  I wanted to check on my bridge opening protocol so I did a 180 to regroup and was immediately met by The Jungle Queen heading up river.  I grabbed the nearest piling and waited for this monster tour boat to pass, then fell in behind her as the railroad bridge made her a hole.  I wondered how a boat any larger than mine would negotiate a confrontation with this Jungle Queen, as she only leaves a couple feet clearance to the boats moored on each side along the river, and less clearance at the bridge.

Continuing north up the New River, I came on the North Fork/South Fork junction.  Not having a plan, I followed the wake of a boat that was taking the North Fork.  As I rounded the first turn, there was another low (highway) bridge, and the boater in front of me was shaking his fist at the couple walking out on the bridge.  I didn’t hear the specifics, but I guess the captain felt the bridgetender could have opened sooner – the wait couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes.  I followed the boat through the opened bridge.

I headed north for another ½ hr or so, until I ran out of water, then did a 180.  I don’t like to blow my horn, especially in a residential neighborhood, so as I approached the low highway bridge I dug out my handheld VHF and turned it on.  I could hear a lot of chatter between irate boaters and the various bridgetenders in the Lauderdale area who were following/explaining the rules.  There was one lady who couldn’t get a bridge to open, only to have her husband take over transmission suggesting that his wife was confused and was hailing the wrong bridge.  When I got close enough, I could read the sign, "Bridgetender monitors VHF 9", but nowhere did I see the name of the bridge and not having a chart I wasn’t willing to hash out the name of the crossing while on the radio.  I drifted for about 10 minutes while making a sandwich, but finally blew the horn.  The bridgetending couple immediately appeared, confirmed by voice that I wanted passage and opened the bridge.  When I returned to the North Fork/South Fork "Y", I took the South Fork.  The South fork was just as enjoyable as the North Fork.  It’s quite a bit farther on the South fork until you run out of water, and actually I ended up at a row of buoys that forbade further navigation.  I didn’t go any faster on the return that I did on the way up – there’s so much to see.

As I returned to the ‘congested’ area of bridges and boats, I turned on the VHF to get a feel for whether the railroad bridge would be open or not.  The first thing I heard was the Jungle Queen advising all boats in the New River that she was headed upstream, approaching the bridge and advised anyone navigating in the area to take appropriate measures.  So that’s how it was done when there’s room for only one in the channel – call ahead for clearance!  I pulled over into a pocket between two moored boats and waited until she passed.  She was immediately followed by several boats who had no way of getting around her in the narrow stretch. 

I spent quite some time in and around Port Everglades watching the freighters and liners come and go.  Then I checked out a recreation area that has an entrance on the east side of Dania Sound and runs parallel to the ICW for about a quarter mile in protected waters.  There’s a ramp at the entrance and a small water sports shop with rentals up inside.  The water is pretty shallow, but it would be a nice place to spend the day with the family. 

After observing the previously mentioned casino clear the bridge and tie up, I headed back to the ramp at Sunny Isles, obediently complying with the restrictions on the ubiquitous signs along the way.  I put QT back on her trailer and headed north on I95 to meet up with some fellow Interneters. 

To me, A1A is fun to travel.  Sure, it’s stop and go, but you'll find beaches, water, boats and related businesses.  It’s a recreational destination.  If you’re on A1A, you’re most likely pretty close to where you’re going.  If you take US1 up or down the coast, you’re apt to be heading somewhere else vs. the A1A folks that are pretty much where they want to be.  Drivers on US1 are in more of a hurry and are much more impatient than the A1A drivers.  Now you try I95 and LOOK OUT!  No one wants to be where they are on I95 between  West Palm and Miami…it’s every man for himself…spare no patience or courtesy!  I won’t do I95 again in that area, I’ll gladly pay the tolls. 

My next port would have been Merritt Island, to visit the first of 3 fellows I met at rec.boats Newsgroup on the Internet.  I would have arrived too late though, so I headed up to Daytona to check out a boating store called Blue Water Boats.  Bill Grannis, the service manager there, had e-mailed me some pointers on getting my Yamaha warranty work done and he’d also encouraged me to see the St. Johns River (which I had done on a previous Florida adventure).  The wind was blowing between 20 and 30, but I easily launched at the Municipal Marina and spent the morning checking out marinas and water sights from Ormand to Ponce Inlet.  I put QT back on the trailer late in the morning, then stopped by to thank Bill for his help and recommendations.  Bill was very busy and could only spare a minute or two away from his service department.

I then headed south, back to Merritt Island to get up with Paul Kruse (Jr.).  I was dying to see how his home built, 60 foot, power catamaran was coming along.  As he showed me the first of what would be many sections of his cargo/fishing cat. Paul bubbled with ideas, facts and techniques about the construction and uses for his custom rig.  Paul’s son, Paul III, is a partner in the undertaking and will be part of the crew when the cat goes to sea. 

After all my oohs and aahs had subsided and my questions had been answered at the driveway construction site, we decided to continue the conversation aboard QT for a night run out of Port Canaveral.  Again, Paul was a wealth of knowledge about the area and related businesses.  I never felt the need to pull out the chart as he piloted us through the night into the Atlantic.  We enjoyed a pleasant run south beyond Cocoa Beach before deciding to return. 

To me, Paul’s project is monumental - build a 60 foot catamaran in your yard?  Still, dreams are the nourishment of life, and Paul is an inspiration for us to believe in and follow our own dreams.

My next stop was Jacksonville. Bill Sheffield, of American Marine in Jacksonville, and I have swapped e-mail as a result of some posts on rec.boats and while I have never really needed the services of a Honda outboard dealer (except to buy one), I figured I’d stop by  and say "Hello".  Bill not only sells Hondas, he also builds and sells (Honda powered) Shoal Cats from 8 to 22 feet – he says his 17’ Shoal Cat will do 45mph with a Honda 75.  Maybe next time I can get him to take me out for a spin.  After Bill leisurely showed me his yard, we shared boating experiences.

The 500 mile trip back in the truck gave me time to reflect.  South East Florida has changed quite a bit since I was last there; the manatee have taken over and there’s much more boat and highway traffic, still it’s a great place to be on the water and provides a marine environment you’ll not find anywhere else.  It also made me appreciate the freedom, serenity and variety I tend to take for granted in my coastal Carolina waters.  Another thought crossed my mind on the way home – it’s ironic, but then again not so surprising after my own personal experience, that the Yamaha service guy was so busy, and the Honda guy had time to show me around.

Total Trip - combined miles = 2,029

Water miles = 355

Engine hours = 41.5

Boat fuel = 45 gallons

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Log of the QT - Pinopolis

12/20/97

I left home at 5am, not knowing how far south I'd have to go to comply with Nick's RULE of OVERNIGHT which dictates, "Put in farther south if the forecast is for less than 40 degrees overnight."  As it turned out, I only had to go 125 miles, to Lakes Marion/Moultrie, just south of Columbia SC.  I was prepared to do Charleston SC or even Jacksonville FL if necessary but welcomed the chance to get acquainted with these yet unexplored lakes.

As I made my way to I26 with my boat following obediently behind, I wondered if they'd be out.  You can usually spot them at pre-dawn on roads in the vicinity of water, and that morning was no exception.  They overtook me regularly at my sluggish 50 mph rate (hey, it's an old truck with 150,000 miles).  I don't fish, but I do find comfort in sharing the road with these early rising fishermen.  And while the fishermen thin out long before the sun shows it's face, on a nice weekend morning, they're apt to be replaced by ski boats behind family cars.

I'm pretty fussy about where I put in -- there's always the possibility that the car and trailer will be left overnight, and being alone I like to have a dock at the ramp to tie the boat up to while I park the truck.  I scouted 5 or six ramps where I95 crosses Lake Marion and didn't like any of them.  I ended up putting in on Marion at Santee State Park for 2 bucks.  The fellow at the marina warned me that the lake was low.  He was right, I had to back way down the ramp for a 'wet launch'.  I can usually stay dry by climbing in the back of the pick-up to get aboard for the launch, but getting back into the truck after launching the boat meant braving the 6" deep water at the truck door, in bare feet.

I got my charts in the Sporting Goods department of Wal Mart.  It looks like someone dropped a wet spaghetti noodle on Lake Marion west of I95 and decided it should be the channel.  I'm a small outboard - used to going my own way, and figured I could do a straight shot from the marina to the bridge...until I noticed the trees sticking up out of the water all over the place.  This wasn't a lake, it was a swamp, a maze.  I headed from the ramp to the closest channel marker, dodging several stumps and trees on the way.  I snaked my way down the channel, noticing that the closest marker was often not the next marker, and that at major course changes, there were arrows under the marker pointing in the new direction of the channel.  I'm a seasoned waterway veteran, but I've never seen the likes of this meandering channel, including switchbacks!

There are a couple major course changes just downstream of the I95 bridge, then the channel follows the shore for a while before becoming a straight arrow shot across the lake to the dam.  I stayed on the shoreline route to explore the Marinas along the way, but in December, there is little to no activity.  Down towards the Santee Dam (at the end of Lake Marion) there's a dog leg into the Diversion Canal.  I'd been running at about 22 mph, but slowed down to 8 mph in the canal...I like to take in the sights on the shores and enjoy watching the fishermen.

The Diversion Canal is evidently excavated in rock, as there are a row of warning signs along each end bringing the boaters attention to "ROCKS" at the channel edge.  By the time I cleared the Diversion Canal into Lake Moultrie, I was anticipating the Pinopolis Lock that joins Lake Moultrie and the Tailrace Canal. There's little navigating to do on Moultrie; the channel is well marked and logical, so I put her on 4,600 rpm and made short work of the less than 10 miles across Moultrie to the Pinopolis Lock.

The wind was piling up a chop at the channel into the lock, but as I approached the ladder I discovered well maintained vertical rub rails which are much kinder to my hull than the cement walls would have been.  Somewhat comforted, I ventured toward the rails.  I pushed the button at the ladder while fending off, and the speaker squawked, "Hello, this is the lockmaster."

I asked if a fellow could lock down, then back up about an hour later, and the lockmaster said, "You sure can.  I'll open the gates for you right away."

I stayed at the ladder until the gates were open, then idled in and tied up to a floating dock at the 'north' wall.  I was the only boat wanting to make the trip down, but I understand from talking to the lockmaster that in season there can be 45 or more boats rafted 4 across, all locking at once.

The upstream gates closed, and the locking experience began.   It takes 20 minutes to complete the cycle which lowers you and your boat from the level of Lake Moultrie, down 75 feet -- to the Tailrace Canal.  There's one word that describes the event, AWESOME.

Ya' gotta do it to appreciate the experience.  I wasn't keeping track of the time or distance and after a spell, I thought I had to be nearing the bottom.  Wrong!  In examining the lock walls, trying to calculate the distance, I discovered a depth gauge.  I'd only gone about 40 feet.  You keep sinking and sinking into the bowels of the lock.  You look up, up, up to the top of the lock.  There are gulls flying around in the lock up there; oops! be careful about looking up.  The downstream gates finally open and you're on your way through the Tailrace to the Cooper River and on to Charleston and the Atlantic Ocean if you've a mind to go that far.

I didn't get near Charleston, in fact I dropped the hook just south of the Berkeley Yacht Club (about 7 miles south of the lock) made myself a sandwich, then headed back upstream.  I knew I wasn't going to make it back to the ramp before sundown, but that didn't worry me.  I had come ready to stay aboard for the night.  I figured I'd just meander back and hook out wherever it got dark.

When I got to the lock to go back up, I found the button a little higher on the ladder than I could reach, but I was able to push it with the boat hook.  The lockmster said it would be about 20 minutes before he would open the gates, so I just waited at the ladder.  Then I entered and tied up to the floating dock.  When the water was up high enough to allow me to talk with the lockmaster, I learned that all the locking is done without pumps.  Valves allow the natural flow of the water to do the work.  I also learned that I was the only boat to use the lock that day.

The sun slid past the horizon just as I cleared the dog leg into Lake Marion.  I used what little light was left to navigate the straight stretch to where the channel meets the shoreline.  I wondered if using my search light and GPS I could get through the maze to the I95 bridge without hitting a tree or clipping a stump. I took her down to 4 mph and after verifying that the bread crumb track on my GPS was in tact, I lit up the next marker with the light, confirmed the direction with the GPS and made my way slowly upstream.

Everyone says, "Don't do it, it's not worth it", "Why take the chance", "It's foolish to travel in a boat at night".  Well, if you really want to get down to brass tacks, it's foolish to travel on a boat in the daytime.  You don't need to be on the water & it's cheaper and more comfortable by car; certainly there can be no economic justification for fishing...but we do it because we enjoy it.  And that's why you're more and more apt to see me out moving around after dark.  I decided to keep going toward the marina until I was 'stumped', ran aground or hit a tree.  I'm guessing there's about 10 miles of channel between the I95 bridge and the Santee State Park Marina; that same distance is less than 5 miles as the crow flies.  It took me about 3 hours to go those miles in the dark. I never brushed a stump or tree, and my sounder never warned of less than 4' of water. Between the clear night, those little arrows under the markers, the GPS and the spot light, it turned out to be a pleasant challenge.  When I got to the marina, I put QT back on the trailer, and in 3 hours I was home.

So I didn't spend the night aboard on the Pinopolis boat trip.  I'll put that one in the bank for my next adventure.  I think that next trip should be out of Lauderdale, or Miami...maybe I can find someone as crazy as I am that would like to dash over to the Bahamas and spend that night there.  Several posters on rec.boats have offered a friendly bit of advise regarding a Bahamas trip, "The weather could turn sour, and you might not be able to get back."  Not to worry -- I'm never that lucky!

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Log of the QT – YAMALEMON Spring ‘93

The wires had been taken off and the little sticky pads had been removed.  I was left alone, lying face up on the narrow paper covered table, waiting for the wooden stick, rubber hammer, cold plastic cone and probing fingers.  This was the epitome of situations that require moving the mind to another location.

I closed my eyes and drifted to the southern end of Core Creek in  NC, settling on the ICW in my small outboard amidst a school of playful porpoise.  I left the friendly creatures to stern and slowly headed south, following the day marks in my mind toward Moorhead City.  On an impulse, I had just swung hard to port, entering Gallants Channel toward Beaufort, when the doctor entered the room.  As the door opened, it emitted a subtle grinding noise which made me sit bolt upright on the examining table.

The doctor asked, "Did I startle you?"

"I thought I had run aground on the sand bar," I replied.

He said, "It's probably a good thing you came when you did..."

My EKG was fine, so were my tonsils, reflexes, heart/lungs and well, the rest was OK too.  My annual exam turned out to be very routine.  In explaining my 'grounding' to the doc, I discovered he was a boater too.

I lamented to the doc, that my wife and I lived aboard a sailboat in  Beaufort NC for a couple years in the 70's and we really missed life on the water, but I recounted the recent return there in my little 16' outboard cuddy with a couple of guys.  We put in at Sea Gate on Adams Creek, and answered the call of Ocracoke, braving 30+ open miles of a very choppy Pamlico Sound.  The chop was tolerable downwind, but on the return we pounded so bad that it was necessary to hold on with both hands until we were back in the shelter of Adams Creek -- coming down off the plane to ease the pounding was not an option, although it was occasionally dictated to allow beer in and out.  We spent 3 days and 2 nights aboard in the area...there's nothing that compares to getting up early and watching a sunrise while swinging on the hook at Cape Lookout.

My wife and I get up early several days a week too, but not to watch a sunrise.  We go swimming at the "Y".  It's good exercise, but even more important it saves the abuse my ears would take if I stayed in bed while she went.  The alarm goes off at 5:20am.  I drag my butt out of the sack and on the way to the bathroom I make a "U" turn, go to the window and pull the side of the shade back.  I peer out into darkness, but I can faintly see my boat parked next to the house, proudly perched on her trailer, begging me to take her out and get her bottom wet.  It's only my bottom that gets wet that morning, but during the swim I plan the next cruise.

Occasionally my wife will catch me standing next to the boat, or looking at it out the window. I'll be totally mesmerized, contemplating projects that could be done, or gear that would come in handy, or where she'll take me next -- and when.  My wife will say, "Boy, I wish there was something in my life that could give me the pleasure you get from that boat!"

These are few of what should have been many examples of what my boat is to me.  The reality is, I haven't had one totally carefree day of boating since I took delivery of my new boat.  Most of my 'boating' time has been spent looking for a dealer who would/could fix the motor, or waiting to have repairs done or worrying if it would ever be right or finding ways to live with the problem(s) or making excuses to business associates and family for why the motor did not work as it should.

The boat was originally purchased with the idea of putting several 15'11" cuddys (with sleeping accommodations for 2, porta-potty,  fresh water tank and an economical outboard) in charter service in a couple locations in the Carolinas.  Yamaha was chosen to power the boat because dealers who sell Yamaha say Yamaha is far and away the best outboard.  They also point out that Yamaha is #1 in Customer Satisfaction.

As delivered in Aug '95, the motor response was flat for the last 1/3 of the throttle travel and the motor 'rattled' above 2/3's throttle without any change in top end.  I asked the selling dealer about this 5 or 6 times over a 4 month period. He assured that everything was working as it should, even after physically attending to the boat for the post break-in service.  Additionally, during the first 3 months with my brand new boat, the motor developed a miss at the top end and on one trip it began backfiring so badly I was almost stranded 4 hours from port.  I was able to limp back by disconnecting the middle plug wire.  It also began backfiring and dying at idle.

 In January, even though the dealer told me he had lake tested the boat and the motor was turning 5,600rpm @ WOT with the 11" pitch prop he put on, I convinced him that I had to be hitting the 6,200rpm rev limiter @ 2/3's throttle.  Not having a tach, my theory was based on a GPS reading of 22mph @ WOT and Yamaha specs of 22mph max for an 11" pitch.  While he was fixing the motor to run on 3 cylinders again, the dealer installed a tach and a 15" pitch prop.  The first time I took the boat out, it turned 6,000rpm.  I wrote a couple notes to the dealer asking if it was OK to turn 6 grand when the manual said 5,600, but he never responded. I finally bought a 17" pitch myself and brought the WOT R's down to 5,600 with a top speed of over 32mph.  The miss @ WOT and dying at idle continued, but I figured I'd just find another dealer to work out these problems.

WRONG!  I called 3 shops recommended by Yamaha Customer Service in California.  One said, "Bring it in, within 2 weeks we will let you know when we can get to it.  Another said they were very busy and could get to it in October (this was in January) and the last Yamaha shop said they wouldn't look at it at all because they didn't sell it.  I went to the, "We'll let you know in 2 weeks" place, and they didn't sell Yamaha and didn't have any Yamaha stuff on the shelves, so I figured I'd just nurse the motor along until October.

During that 'nursing' period:

1.      The pilot project (for the charter operation) was canceled because I couldn't get the motor to perform for the investors.

2.      The motor died regularly at idle -- this is especially exciting when it dies just before you put it into reverse coming into the dock or trailer.

3.      Low speed performance was very sloppy - did you ever try to pull a skier when just after you slam it open it coughs and almost stops?

4.      I packed up the car and family, drove 300+ miles to the coast, and then couldn't get the motor started to get it off the trailer.

I decided after the tainted vacation that I'd just take the boat in and wait as long as it took.  To make a long story short:

I dealt with Yamaha Customer Service in California 3 times by mail.  They responded only the first time, when I asked about local dealers and specs on WOT and idle.

I talked on the phone with Yamaha Customer Service at least 3 times.  This is a quote from the Yamaha Customer Service Rep in California after I asked him what he'd do if he was in my position of not being able to get a new motor to run correctly, "You're not putting this on me...it's your problem and you'll have to find your own solution."  I asked about talking to someone else, but Yamaha doesn't want that to happen - they make sure you always get the same rep.

I 'worked' with the two Yamaha Regional Sales Managers (Carolina/Virginia and Western) while the boat was at 2 different Yamaha dealers; both dealers said the motor was fixed, but when I took it out, there was little or no difference.

Experiences with a Yamaha Tech and Yamaha dealers on the Internet were  fruitless.

I quit receiving the Customer Survey forms that Yamaha evidently bases their boast of being #1 in Customer Satisfaction on.  I guess if they know you aren't happy, they don't send you the survey.

All told,

·        The boat was at 5 different authorized Yamaha repair facilities; with multiple visits to 3 of them.

·        I put over 1,500 miles on the car/trailer going back and forth to authorized Yamaha repair facilities.

·        In 5 months, the boat was in the shop over 100 days.

·        The motor still regularly died at idle and it was still sloppy at slow speeds.

Yamaha deprived me of the pleasures of a spanking new boat, not to mention the payments and interest that I have made on a boat and motor that for every day on the water, spent well over 5 days in the shop.

You might argue that my outboard motor experience is a rare occurrence for a Yamaha owner, but the folks at Boat/US Consumer Protection will not support you – their books contain many similar stories.

I finally decided that life was too short to mess with Yamaha and told the dealer who had the boat that I would stick with Yamaha only if they replaced my motor with a 50HP 4 stroke, and I would even pay the difference.  The dealer countered by saying he had lake tested the boat (again) and it was now fixed correctly.  He admitted that the 17” pitch prop was correct for the boat, not the 15” as he and the Regional Sales Manager had previously insisted was the only one that would work.  The dealer also admitted that even though he had previously advised that the motor needed to come up a hole on the transom because he couldn’t get the rpms up, that the motor was in the right hole and after reworking the carbs it would in fact turn 5,600 with the 17” pitch prop, (because under the advisement of Yamaha, he had pulled the tach to test it’s accuracy).

I met the dealer at the lake to take delivery, so he could personally show me his success with the motor.  I asked why it stumbled on acceleration.  He said, “They all do that.”  I asked him why it was still popping occasionally at idle.  He said that was nothing to be concerned about.  I asked him why it was idling so high and he said, “When Yamaha says 850, they really mean 1100.

The Yamaha C60 pushed the  boat to 32mph (via a GPS) at 5,600 rpm with a 17" pitch prop when it was running well (which wasn’t often).  The response was quite crisp even up to the last 1/2" of throttle.  The performance was the same with the boat fully loaded or completely empty.  The best guess at miles per gallon was about 5 1/2.

My new motor is a Honda 50.  I paid more for the Honda because I wanted SERVICE – Boat/US Consumer Protection  said there were no outstanding complaints against Honda.  The Honda 50 pushes the same boat to 30 mph (via a GPS) at 6,000 rpm with a 13" pitch prop.  The response with the Honda is slower – she takes longer to get out of the hole, and the Honda is more load sensitive than the 2 stroke.  The Honda gets over 10 mpg.

The Yamaha was loud, smelly and wild.  It smoked, drank excessively and hung around with the wrong people (those would be the people at authorized Yamaha service facilities who couldn’t/wouldn’t get the motor working properly).  The Yamaha was uncivilized and unpredictable - if this is your kind companion, by all means, indulge.

The Honda is well mannered.  It doesn’t smoke or drink or hang around at repair facilities.  It is quiet, reliable, predictable, dependable and a pleasure to be around.

After my experience with Yamaha, I’ll never again buy anything that has any kind of Yamaha label on it.

To be sure, the Honda wasn’t golden right out of the box, but it didn’t take long to get it that way.  I’d buy another Honda tomorrow.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC 

St Johns, Disney, Tampa

2/6 – 13/99

I don’t usually spend time in motels while I’m boating, but I’ve often thought staying ashore at night every now and then while on a boating adventure might not be a bad idea. I had the opportunity to try this combination of nights aboard and nights ashore on a recent trip from my home in Spartanburg, SC to Florida. We’d leave Saturday morning, heading for a ramp in north Central Florida; spending a couple nights aboard before heading to a Disney Resort for a couple days. From Disney/Orlando, we’d head west to put the boat in again near Tampa and hopefully see some of Sarasota before heading back to Disney to meet up with our daughter to share a couple days of Winter Break with her and Mickey.

We left home towing the 15’11” cuddy, planning to put in somewhere between Jacksonville and Lake George on the St Johns River. The sun sets early in Feb so we started getting serious about locating a ramp at about 2pm. It wasn’t long before we came on the Glen Cove Springs ramp and were in the water well before sunset.

We scooted down the St Johns for only a couple miles before we snugged up to the wooded eastern bank in about 5 feet of water. After spending nights in Charleston amidst the voracious no-see-ums, I had sewn together a net, which protects the entire cockpit from blood hungry bugs. I panicked when I realized that I had left that net back home in the garage. Our options were to liberally apply anti-bug lotion, or get below at the first sign of bugs. Favoring the ‘get below’ option, we kept a sharp eye out for bugs, but they never did make an appearance before we turned in at 8:30.

Eight-Thirty may seem a little early to turn in, but ya’ gotta remember, it gets dark about 7 and swinging on the hook in the dark on a 15+ foot boat offers relatively few post daylight options. I was ready for the sack before 8, but between us we decided to stick it out until 8:30.

Watching the sun come up over a hot cup of coffee while aboard, is for me, one of life’s greatest pleasures (and turning in at 8:30pm makes getting up at 5:30am quite palatable). We had our second cup of coffee and ‘cup of granola’ after we got under way. The boat will do almost 30mph, but we favor speeds just below and just above planing. This translates to about 8mph pre-planing and 16-18 mph post planing. We began heading south at 8mph just as the sun lost contact with the horizon. The temp was in the low 50’s; the sky was clear and the winds just evident enough to produce cats paws. It was a perfect morning.

The St Johns narrows gradually on the way up stream to Lake George. I hadn’t been too impressed with the river between the ICW and Jacksonville on a previous trip, but this section proved to be our kind of country. We like snaking along, being able to take in the birds and fauna on the banks. We eventually made our way to Lake George, then on to Silver Glen Springs.

On the approach into Silver Glen Springs you’ll notice the water becoming clearer and clearer. The spring feeds crystal clear water into Lake George…the clear view of the bottom reminded me of Bahamian waters. Up inside the approach we ran into a fleet of ’flats’ boats; the kind propelled by airplane propellers attached to big V8 engines. Farther inside it grew so congested that navigating was near impossible. At the spring itself, there are a series of buoys that describe a one way loop between the outside of a small anchorage and the shore. The anchorage was packed to the point that you could walk from one boat to another the whole way across. In addition, there were boats tied to the shore with anchors into the channel to keep them from swinging into each other. These boats varied from rental houseboats to runabouts to cruisers to cigarette boats – many running their loud motors or generators. This was not our kind of place and after a single trip around the one way loop (often having to raise our outboard to keep from fouling anchor lines) we high tailed it back to the middle of Lake George and dropped the hook for lunch.

After a leisurely lunch we headed back north, but as we were exiting Lake George, we decided to explore the creek that takes one up to Salt Pond. It was a little tricky finding our way in and the water was very shallow at places (<18 a="" about="" an="" and="" back="" bird="" birds="" but="" do="" effort.="" for="" hour="" inside="" johns.="" made="" our="" qt="" solitude="" some="" span="" st="" the="" then="" tied="" to="" tree="" watching="" way="" we="" well="" were="" worth="">

We came across a secluded quiet cove off Drayton Island while taking a shortcut out of Lake George into the St Johns River and decided to hook out for an afternoon nap. We then continued back north until we ran out of daylight.

It was after dark when we dropped the hook in a shallow area just west of Whetstone Point. The lights came on in a house on the bank, and we could see a couple peering our way from the porch, but I guess they decided our 16’ boat was neither threatening nor imposing. As usual it was coffee at sunup and we were on our way north again. All too soon we were approaching the ramp at Green Cove Springs. We decided to spend some time checking out the boats at the sprawling piers at the Green Cove Marina before putting QT back on her trailer. I wonder what all those massive piers were built for?

We spent the next couple days with Mickey…m.o.u.s.e. Disney World is always a pleasure, especially if you spend your nights within the Disney facilities. Staying in Disney accommodations allows one to experience the superb Disney service, leave the car parked for the duration while using Disney transportation and being allowed to enter the parks an hour before the regular Disney crowds.

After Disney we headed west, to the Clearwater area. I figured we’d just start looking for a ramp when we arrived at the Gulf. We took the Gandy Bridge out of Tampa and turned north after crossing the ICW. I stopped at a municipal building to inquire about a ramp and learned that if I backtracked, I’d find a ramp less than a mile down the road, just south of the bridge. It was a very nice ramp with restrooms and easy parking. We were on the water, heading north, in about 10 minutes.

Not having a schedule or even a plan for that matter, we leisurely made our way north. The weather complimented the comfortable waterway so we kept moving mostly at sub planing speeds until dusk. We snuggled up to the southern shore of a spoil island about MM 137 to watch the sun set. I noticed that there seemed to be a distinct boundary of sea grass as we made our way into about 4 feet of water. We dropped the hook off the bow onto a clean sandy bottom, walked ashore for a spell, then settled in aboard for the night. About 2am the boat suddenly listed to port, waking us out of a sound sleep. I arouse to find us high and dry, now planted firmly in the sand that was left exposed by the exiting tide. We tilted the motor up allowing the boat to regain a level attitude and turned in again. The next morning as we sipped coffee, watching the sun come up, I commented on how hospitable the area was…you don’t have to go to the beach, it will come to you.

After the sun broke the horizon, we meandered north, with the traditional cup of breakfast granola with cold Pop Tart chasers. When we ran out of markers at MM 150 we followed a local fisherman out into the Gulf. It was gorgeous out there – we decided to head south outside, staying within eyeball distance of the beach to keep an eye on the happenings there. We nosed in closer at Clearwater Pass, but decided it was too nice outside to head in. It wasn’t until we approached Pass-A-Grill Channel that we decided we needed to decide whether to head in or keep going south. We opted for a compromise…we’d run the pass, head back to the ramp, load up the boat and splash again south of Tampa Bay.

We took the Sunshine Skyway Bridge across Tampa Bay. What an interesting piece of architecture. We decided Sarasota would be a likely place to put in, settling on the ramp at Lido Key. The Southwest Florida Boating Guide (our only chart) touted the anchorage at Sarasota, but after a slow cruise through the rather busy anchorage we decided we could make a few more miles south and still be settled in time to watch the sunset. We hooked out near a spoil bank in Roberts Bay for a very peaceful night.

The next morning it was coffee at sunup, then south. The trip down the waterway was as pleasant as could be. At one point we passed a fisherman on the bank, complete with chair, umbrella, cooler etc, holding a pole with the line leading out into the water. It was a postcard picture, especially since sitting right next to him looking as content as the fisherman himself was a great blue heron. Those two sure made that beach look enticing.

When Venice Inlet was to port, we swung west. We just had to see what the Gulf looked like…just a peek. The sun was shining out there, there were ever so gentle swells, and the temperature was perfect. We decided to stay in the Gulf for our trip back north.

I put a waypoint in the GPS in 30 feet of water off Mira Mar Beach. A goto at 18 mph showed we had plenty of time to get there, so we slowed off the plane for a spell, even dropping the hook for a 45 minute nap as we cleared Blind Pass.

We liked New Pass better than Sarasota Pass, then noticed that the ‘chart’ also suggested New Pass. The way in was well marked and easygoing. We scouted out the marinas and moored boats as we made our way back to the ramp. It’s always a little sad putting QT back on her trailer for the trip home, especially after such a perfect cruise, but we’d be heading back to Disney World before heading home, to spend a couple days with our daughter on her Winter Break.

Car miles = 1,934

Engine hours = 23.2

Boat miles = 278

Boat fuel = 37.1

Log of the QT Trawlerfest – Melbourne

April 15-18 1999

Before the fest, I spent some time in Ft Lauderdale; put in at John Lloyd Beach State Recreation Area just south of the inlet.  Ran the inlet to experience the deep blue of the Gulf Stream and see what she was serving up.  After regular drenchings by spray over the bow even at pre-planing speeds (at which point I asked myself, "What am I doing out here?"...then with outstretched arms, I jubilantly exclaimed loudly to the seas, "I'm boating!"), I went back inside and leisurely did the ICW, heading up toward Lake Boca.  The lake was our home for several months in the 70's while lived aboard -- working in Boca. Never made it to Boca though...there was a Navy boat waiting inside for a Hillsboro bridge opening...I followed him out, then casually ran outside back down to Ft L in a favorable wind. Spent the night anchored in the heart of Lauderdale on the shoal at the junction of the ICW & New River. The plan for that day had been to follow a course to Bimini for 1 1/2 hours, then head either east or west to the nearest beach. As it turned out, both on my initial jaunt outside just after launching at John Lloyd and another trip out later after the pleasant run down from Hillsboro, the Gulf Stream chop slowed me down to the point there was no contest -- I couldn't get far offshore enough in my 1 1/2 hrs to be slightly tempted by Bahamian waters.  I could have eventually made it at 4 kts or so, but grinding away at only 3 mpg, I would have had to plan on buying fuel in the Bahamas and I'd ruled that option out because I wasn't ready to clear customs. On the bright side, if the weather had been better, I'd have been able to make 20+mph and would have been close enough after my hour and a half to consider a Bimini landing, but might not have been able to get back in time for T-Fest. I did however, go for one more spin in the deep blue when I upped anchor @ 6am Wednesday to have breakfast about 5 miles offshore, drifting in the GS while watching the sun come up.

 An interesting aside - while I was bending over to light the stove for coffee, I heard a subdued crash. I checked to see what might have broken loose or fallen, but found nothing. About 2 minutes later I heard rustling near the helm seat and discovered a flying fish frantically wriggling about in the coaming. I pointed out the beautiful sunrise to the fish as I returned him to the water.

Spent Wednesday poking around the high dollar floating real estate in Lauderdale for awhile, then followed the Dania Cut-Off Canal as far inland as it would take me...returning via the South New River Canal to South Fork New River to ICW. I love meandering around in those concentrated boating areas.  Then headed north by car to T-Fest with the little boat in tow.

Couldn't put the little boat in the water near Indian Harbour Beach because the whitecaps were pounding the causeway ramp. Did find a ramp on the West shore of the Indian River just north of the Pineda Expwy, and made my way back to T-Fest by water in a chop that challenged planing speeds. After seeing the Fest from the calm harbour waters I returned to the ramp, then spent Wed night aboard (in the T-Fest parking lot).

Thursday the wind had shifted so I was able to splash at the causeway. Explored north and south on the Indian River, checking out marinas along the way - trailering her back up for the Pooh gam. Spent Thursday night aboard again in the parking lot.

After Friday's seminars I put her in again at the causeway and went north up the Banana to somewhere shy of Cocoa. I returned to spend the night aboard anchored in the Banana just north of the swing bridge near T-Fest.

Attended the first 2 seminars on Sat, but had to cover a lot of ground to get back home by Sunday am, so I missed the final seminar on Sat. Would loved to have been able to spend Sat afternoon on Pooh with the listees as well as making the Sunday festivities, but I was fortunate enough to be able to spend as much time away from home as I did.

Total Miles = 1,758

Boat Miles = 140.8

Boat Fuel = 19.1

Engine Hours = 19.2

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Tennessee River

May 1 & 2 1999

I consider myself a veteran of the ICW, having collectively covered every mile from Norfolk to Miami at least 5 times in each direction. I’ve also spent some time on the rivers near Chicago (including Lake Michigan) and every major lake within 200 miles of home. It wasn’t until I attended seminars during Trawler Fest, Melbourne, Spring ’99, that I learned about the waters associated with the TVA. I was especially interested in a section of river Fred Myers called the Jewel of the Tennessee River during his presentation of Inland Waterways: Gulf Coast to the Great Lakes at the Fest. This stretch of water (between Knoxville and Chattanooga) was actually closer to me than my ‘home’ cruising grounds of the ICW at Charleston SC. I moved “The Jewel” to the top of my list of places to visit during my regular, once a month overnight outings aboard my 15’11” cuddy.

I did an Internet Yahoo map from Spartanburg, SC to Knoxville TN. Then I “Yellow Paged”  ‘marinas’ for Knoxville and found 3. A “beyond Knoxville” turned up a total of 22 marinas. There were 6 within 15 miles of Knoxville. I systematically called them. The first gave me a recorded message, the second lost me in a transfer between the phone answerer and a knowledgeable party, a few no answers and then I connected to a marina who a) had a boat ramp, b) said I could leave my car/trailer overnight, c) had the charts I’d need & d) Faxed me directions to their facility. Who could ask for anything more…I would splash in at Fox Road Marina, a few miles outside of Knoxville @ mile 617.0 on the TN River…some 180 miles from home.

I worried about how my rig would behave on the interstate, going up and down the Saluda Grade. There is a lot of hilly winding road between South Carolina and Knoxville, but the Saluda Grade is the steepest stretch; it would be the test of power going up and the test of braking coming down. The car is a ’93 Ford Crown Vic. The trailer is single axle, 2,600 lb. capacity – the trailer does not have brakes. I weighed the boat and trailer on a truck scale. It came in at #2,680 fully loaded, but by limiting the amount of gear, water and fuel I can/do reduce that by about 250 lbs. As it turned out, my fears were unfounded. I could easily keep the temperature gauge in the safe zone maintaining 40mph going up the grade, and going down with the trans in 2^nd gear and the overdrive off, the engine braking kept the speed below 55 mph.

The Fox Road Marina is a delightful place. There’s a little restaurant, an impressive variety of charts and cruising guides, not to mention wet and dry slips & certified mechanics, all in a very protected and secure location. As I paid the modest launch fee and decided on the Army Corps chartbook, Norb Twillmann offered invaluable bits of local knowledge. As usual, I launched and was underway in about 15 minutes. Norb was at the ramp as I splashed, asking if he could back me in so I didn’t have to get my feet wet, but having done the launch drill scores of times alone, I have developed a routine which has allowed a ‘dry’ launch at all but a single ramp. I waved Norb off, but he stuck around none-the-less.

The US Army Corps chart shows the Fox Road Marina as item F on Sinking Creek, but I think the location is really off the chart by a little ways. At any rate, I obeyed the No Wake – State Law  --  ENFORCED signs as I made my way the couple miles to the Tennessee River. As I cleared the 16’ vertical clearance fixed bridge at the mouth of Sinking Creek, I was met by a flotilla of racing sailboats. Being an ex-ragbagger with fond memories of the 3 years we lived aboard, I throttled back, took her out of gear and drifted silently for about 10 minutes while taking in the busy fleet. I then began my journey downstream.

The initial intention was to make my way the 162 miles to Chattanooga before turning around, but I realized about the time I cleared the Fort Louden lock, that there could be complications. First of all, it would mean I’d have to hustle. I had 2+ days, and I certainly could have covered the 324 miles down and back in that time, but I had settled in on a much more leisurely pace to take in the gorgeous scenery on the banks. The second concern was I didn’t know if I would be able to find an open marina with gas on Sunday. The third concern was running at night in unfamiliar waters. I very much enjoy loping along at night on familiar stretches of the ICW and all over local lakes…I know those waters and have waypoints and routes to keep me out of trouble. The Tennessee River however, as well as being unfamiliar, has menacing areas of concentrated flotsam (some pieces as big as 4’ X 8’ sheets of plywood or telephone polls), not to mention regular commercial traffic. I finally decided I’d keep going until my FloScan told me I was I had used 50% of my fuel, then I’d hook out for the night. The next morning, I’d get up with the sun and decide whether to continue on downstream or head back up toward Knoxville. If I decided to go back upstream, I wouldn’t have to worry about fuel.

The last few miles on Saturday were logged well after sundown. As I approached MM 517 my FloScan digited to 13 gallons consumed out of the 27 gallon tank. I put the bow in 2 feet of water and threw out the 8S Danforth. I backed down and dragged so I pulled the now mud covered anchor back up to the boat, cleaned it off and dispatched it again. I could have tied up to a tree on the bank, but there was a full moon, zero wind and NOAA said the night would be calm. This time I didn’t back down – I’d just keep an eye on the beach to see if the current would take me anywhere. I got comfortable in the cockpit, watched the moon and stars for a spell and listened to the crickets, frogs and jumping fish until the dew started settling on me, then after setting the deep alarm on 6’, I climbed below into my cozy sleeping bag. I was barked to sleep by dogs having a convention somewhere on the other bank; they were interrupted only occasionally by the rattle of a 2 stroke outboard being regularly brought to life by a fisherman ½ mile or so upriver. 

The rumble of commercial river traffic will never fail to wake me out of the deepest sleep. I then always go topside to make sure I’m not being sucked toward the approaching barge. I was far enough out of the right of way, that the tug that night didn’t even swing me on my anchor rode. I slept better after he passed, knowing that even if I didn’t have a CaptWil grab on the river bottom, I was not within the range of influence of the tug’s big propeller.

When the alarm went off at 5am, the dogs were evidently asleep, the fisherman was gone, the birds were singing, and the air was a fresh and invigorating 45 degrees. It’s a tradition aboard to have a hot cup of coffee in my hand when the sun breaks the horizon, so it is typical to get the coffee water boiling on my single burner propane camp stove before any other duties or functions are performed. While the water heated, I wondered how long this thick fog would last…I couldn’t see the bow of the boat. I brought the anchor aboard without stowing the rode. I would just move to the other shore for a better vantagepoint to watch the sunrise (if the fog cleared). As I made my way to mid river, the fog thinned, and by the time I was at the other shore I could actually see the horizon above the dense cloud that I had been anchored in. I lowered the anchor and took in a wondrous sunrise show that so many of us take for granted every morning. 

After the sun had cleared the horizon, I decided to head back upstream. There were pockets of fog that inspired me to seek the safety of 3 foot depths near the edge of the river. I couldn’t totally protect myself from the bass boats that occasionally screamed toward me out of the fog, but I could be in water shallow enough to discourage barge traffic. By the time I was ready to lock up at Watts Bar, the fog was only Sunday history.

Locking alone is always interesting, but the two locks I came down in on the Tennessee River were the easiest lock transits I’ve ever experienced. As you approach, you find a cable dropped behind a ladder at the outside end of the lock wall. As you pull the cable for lock passage, you can hear the horn sound in the lock. The lockmaster then shouts something to you on a loudspeaker – I have trouble understanding those loud speakers, but gathered that it is customary for him to indicate the approximate amount of time it will be before you can enter the lock. You could use the VHF to converse with the Lockmaster, but I have microphone paranoia and seldom speak to anyone I don’t know via airwaves.

Sooner or later the big lock gates will open and after the stoplight turns green and a horn sounds, you may enter the lock. As you pass through the gates, the lockmaster will holler where he wants you to tie up, maybe gesturing the general direction. You’ll find a floating bollard built into the lock wall at your designated position. These huge floating bollards are designed to take the bight of a commercial line, but each bollard also has a finger hook welded to the lower portion. I found that if I put out a fender at the stern cleat, and another fender forward where the hull begins it’s turn toward the bow, I could keep my boat comfortably at the lock wall both on the way up and on the way down with a single line. One end of this line is attached to the stern cleat and the other is attached at the bow. The line is shortened so there is resistance when it is pulled away from the side of the hull more than about 8”. The line includes a small fixed loop about 1/3 of the way from the stern to the bow…this loop is placed over the finger on the bollard. With this setup, even transiting alone, I could throw a sandwich together or make log entries while the lock was filling or emptying. My average lock transit time was about an hour, which includes waiting.

There’s a cutout at the bottom of the removable panel in front of my translucent fuel tank. Through the cutout I can see about 3” of the tank from the helm. When I get down to about 12 gallons of fuel remaining I can begin to see the level in the tank dropping. I have never run the level below 8 gallons before, and began to get edgy when the level dropped out of visual reference -- below the 5 gallon line. I had less than 20 miles to go to get to Fox Road marina (let’s see, 20 miles divided by 7.5 mpg = 2.7 gallons). The FloScan said I had only used 21.5 of my 27 gallons, but just to be on the safe side, I bought 12 gallons of gas at a marina just off the top side of the Fort Louden Lock.

I leisurely threaded my way through the now overwhelming Sunday fleet of pleasure boats/wakes back to the turnoff for Fox Road Marina. I was getting ready to slide under the bridge into Sinking Creek, when I realized that the farther I had made my way upstream, the thinner the boat traffic got. All that was now visible upstream at this point was a couple water maggots. It was early afternoon, it was a glorious day, I didn’t have any other obligations, and now not having to do battle with traffic and wakes I decided there was no reason not to maintain course up toward Knoxville.

It’s about 33 miles to Knoxville from the Sinking Creek junction. I ran a little of it at cruising speed (20 mph), and some at JBP (Just Barely Planing 14-16 mph), but most of that distance was covered a less than 10mph. There’s so much to take in along the shores.

The University of Tennessee’s coliseum prominently welcomes boaters to downtown Knoxville. It’s a small but pleasant waterfront. There’s a waterfront park, a restaurant with docks, a marina, and a public landing for boaters wishing to spend some time ashore. Daylight would soon be getting scarce, so I didn’t go landside, but I did drift for a spell, while I made myself a sandwich, holding conversations with folks ashore.

There was about ½ hr of daylight left as I approached Fox River Marina. I did an idle by the marina to check out the boats. I’m never in a hurry to put the boat back on the trailer at the end of a cruise, but I eventually tied up and went to get the car. I was back aboard after backing the trailer in when Norb appeared. “Want me to pull her up for you?” he inquired.

I politely declined, but Norb again stuck around and we swapped stories about the river as I rigged my boat for the road. When I was road ready, I took a walk out to the dock to have one last look around and to say goodbye and thanks to the Tennessee River.

The Tennessee River between the Ft Louden Lock and Knoxville is undoubtedly to most magnificent populated area of shore that I’ve witnessed. It is easy for me to see why Fred Myers, author of  The Tennessee River CruiseGuide was so enthusiastic about these waters. The mansions lining the tall bluffs and massive manicured estates on the rolling hills along the miles and miles of banks, dictated a slower than normal pace. I ran the camera out of film and the camcorder out of batteries in record time.

Total miles = 639

Boat miles = 247

Boat fuel = 31.6 gallons

Engine hours = 17.7

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

NYC June ’99

For me, the prospect of driving in Manhattan falls somewhere between unappealing and terrifying.  But the Hudson River and Long Island Sound had screamed “Bring the boat” on all previous business trips to NY. My wife and 18 year old daughter would be available during the next scheduled business trip.  They were excited about doing some boating in the area.  With the help of a boating friend, Mark, who works in NY and lives in NJ we came up with a plan to not only combine business with pleasure but also to minimize the pain of having a car (with trailer) in NY City.

The boat was packed, tires and bearings checked and all trailer lights operative in time for the scheduled 5/25 7am departure.  We drove an uneventful 587 miles before checking in to the Newark Delaware Best Western.  The next day (Wed 5/26), after a total of 700+ miles and failure of one trailer tire we arrived at the Weehawken NJ Sheraton Suites Hotel at about 2pm.  We checked in, did a little exploring by foot, got a delicious sandwich at a nearby food court and generally unwound from the road miles until Mark showed up about 5pm.

With Mark taking us on a quick tour through his home town of Hoboken, the four of us made our way the 5 or so miles to Liberty Landing State Park to launch the boat.  The girls then took the car/trailer back to the Sheraton parking lot, and Mark and I boated our way around the Statue of Liberty and back up to the Lincoln Harbor Marina where he keeps his Sea Ray 250.  Before tying up in a slip that he had arranged for me to use during the stay, we swung by the NY waterfront to get a look at the ships that were part of the Fleet Week festivities.  We secured QT in the Lincoln Harbor slip and I walked the ¼ mile to the hotel to prepare for the business meeting the next day, my appetite thoroughly whetted for some NY boating.

Getting to Manhattan from the hotel is a joy to behold.  Stop by the front desk and purchase a ferry ticket.  Walk out the front door of the hotel and get directly on the ferry, in 5 minutes later you’re across the Hudson in Manhattan boarding the ferry bus which will drop you off within a short walk of just about anyplace in Manhattan.  Ferries, Marinas and restaurants within a quarter mile of the hotel.  It doesn’t get any better.  Not having to use a car for the daily routine is to me one of life’s greatest pleasures. Two other notable carless experiences immediately come to mind.  One was a week at Disney World when we stayed on the grounds …took the Disney transportation everywhere… never fired up the car once.  The other was when we rented a house on the beach at Bald Head Island.  There are no cars on Bald Head, you leave them at the ferry terminal at Southport.  On Bald Head, everyone gets about in golf carts.  The house we rented was so far out on the beach that the high tide actually came up under the house.

Thursday, with a successful business meeting behind me, the family explored Manhattan by foot (and Black Rolls).  Thursday evening the girls were a little pooped from exploring the city.  I too rested for a spell, but soon the call of the boat less than ¼ mile away was too loud to ignore.  It was dark as I untied her, and slowly made my way out out of the marina.  Manhattan was a fairyland of lights, sky scrapers and moving vehicles.  As I rounded the turn to head south down the Hudson, the Statue of Liberty came into view with a fireworks display overhead.  What an overwhelming sight – I thought I was dreaming.

Reality quickly slapped me in the face as I realized that all those lights were not landside.  The river was bristling with red, green, white and amber nav lights.  One could not just meander down the Hudson gawking at the sights; careful, diligent attention was necessary to keep out of the way of yachts, barges, ferries, cruiseliners, dinner/sightseeing, and military boats.  I carefully made my way around the southern end of Manhattan and up the East River.   I spent about ½ hour drifting while I took in the activities at the Seaport, then made it up to the Williamsburg Bridge before deciding I’d get into trouble with my girls if I spent too much more time on the water that night.  On the return I did pause at the Statue of Liberty, marveling at her majestic presence in the harbor, then hugged the Manhattan shore, trying to stay out of traffic while taking in the brilliance of nightime Manhattan.

The next morning, after a leisurely ‘free’ breakfast at the hotel, we loaded up QT in preparation for a day on the Hudson.  The plan was to make our way to West Point, then decide what to do from there.  The morning was crisp and clear.  We pretty much had the river to ourselves as we headed north.  We asked the Honda to push us at a comfortable, quiet 8 mph.  This pace gave us an opportunity leisurely absorb the sights along both shores.  As we came to the Spyten Duyvil RR Bridge at the north end of Manhattan, we noticed a boat waiting for an opening.  This got us to thinking about a circumnavigation of Manhattan rather than heading further up the Hudson.  We throttled her back and waited for the bridge.

The back side of Manhattan down to Hells Gate was not particularly memorable.  Neither was Hells Gate for that matter.  In 1972, when we made the trip aboard a 27’ sloop with a 10 HP diesel giving us a max speed of 6mph we were much more interested in tides/currents, bridge clearances, water depths and the threats of commercial traffic than we are today.  Our current boat is a 15’11” cuddy we call “QT”. She sports a Honda 50 outboard, is capable of over 25 mph, needs only 6’ of vertical clearance and is quite content in only 20” of water.  The critical boating concerns of today are basically limited to weather, and then only when we’re planning open water adventures.  Even the worst of weather is quite manageable up a small creek in 2 1/2 feet of water, either tied to a tree on the bank or swinging from our 8S Danforth.  For me, never worrying about bridge clearances, current, shallow water, or having the right charts, combined with the ability to tow the boat to the cruising area as well as being able to do all maintenance in my back yard,  far outweigh any sacrifices in comfort associated with the diminutive size of QT.

The are interesting sights coming down the East River, but it wasn’t until we approached the South Street Seaport area that we slowed and diverted closer to take in the happenings ashore.  Watch out for the gigantic fast moving Staten Island ferry as you round the Battery, gawk at the Verrazano Narrows Bridge in the distance and marvel at the Statue of Liberty as you bear northish into the Hudson.  It’s then decision time, whether to head over to Liberty and Ellis Islands and poke around in the protected marina at Liberty State Park, or continue up the Hudson favoring the bustling Manhattan shore.  We did both.

We had the boat secured in the slip at Lincoln Harbor and were beginning the short walk to the Hotel when we spotted Mark heading our way.  He was on his way to gas up before the scheduled jaunt to Port Washington Saturday am.  My girls and I parted company as I accompanied Mark back into the marina.  Lincoln Harbor only has diesel, so it was necessary to take the boat(s) about ½ mile north to the next marina.  We did his boat first, then mine, taking detours across the river for yet another look at the attractions and ships of Fleet Week.

Saturday morning both the Sea Ray 250 and the Arima 1511 set out for Port Washington on Long Island.  I put my girls aboard the Sea Ray, hoping my Honda 50 and lightly loaded boat would be able to keep up with all the Sea Ray’s horses.  We covered the 30+ miles in about 2 hours.  The choppy waters around Hells Gate kept me off a plane for much of the way between the Queensboro and Bronx Whitestone bridges…the Sea Ray could easily have made better time but stayed close. We were brought to a crawl at the No Wake signs guarding Port Washington Harbor. We finally arrived at the marina together and  immediately topped off the tanks.  The Sea Ray took a little under 40 gallons, my boat took a couple tenths over 4 gallons.

A friend who lives in Port Washington met us at the marina.  He took us on a tour of the surrounding area by car, and then we settled in at his place for a pleasant picnic with his family.  Early in the afternoon he and his wife returned us to the harbor and I took them for a brief test drive on my little boat. We then all said good-by at the dock . Mark steered the Sea Ray back to Lincoln Harbor, our friends headed back home and my wife, daughter and I plotted a NE course up Long Island Sound to use up what little daylight remained.

The Sound was busy, but there is plenty of room for everyone.  At least we thought there was plenty of room for everyone until we put into Larchmont to drop the hook for the night.  As soon as we entered the basic confines of the harbor, there were moorings as thick as crab traps on the Chesapeake.  We courteously snaked our way back into the harbor expecting to find a break in the moorings up in shallower water.  We found no such opportunity to drop the hook.  Even areas with 3 or 4 feet of water at low tide were packed with floating bouys.  We decided to see if the next harbor, Mamaroneck was as populated.

Once in Mamaroneck Harbor, we found a small area devoid of moorings just south of where the main channel splits.  We lowered the 8S Danforth in 5 feet of water.  NOAA said it would be cool and calm that night, so we didn’t really test the holding – getting blown up into the mud was the least of my worries and if we ended up drifting through the anchorage, I’d just wrap a line around someone’s stern cleat.  I’ve completely overcome my fear of dragging in my little 15’11” boat.

It didn’t seem necessary, but we deployed the bug tent anyway.  The bug tent is a fine mesh screen that attached via velcro to the gunnels, stern and windshield to provide a complete stand up enclosure for the cockpit.  It’s a necessity for maintaining sanity while anchored on the ICW during no-see-um season.  I’ve learned to get the bug tent up early, well before dusk, as putting it up later traps the evening bugs inside.  The tent cuts the circulation to less than 50%, but I can live with the heat if it means no bugs.  Heat wasn’t an issue at Mamaroneck, in fact, the chill that night made the sleeping bag ‘down’right cozy.

Sleeping 3 on a 15’11” boat needs to be closely coordinated. Two sleep in the cuddy, the 3^rd crew member sleeps athwartship in the cockpit. The porta potty’s home is under the berth in the cuddy.  To keep from having everyone disturbed when nature calls in the middle of the night, the potty is relocated to the cockpit.  Any gear occupying the sleeping area in the cockpit is moved, then the inflatable mattress is blown up, after which the sleeping bag is made ready.  After these arrangements are complete, the berth in the cuddy is made up.  I’m usually horizontal on the cockpit sole in or on my sleeping bag shortly thereafter, asleep within minutes. The girls might opt to read a spell before turning in, either sitting at the helm or passenger seats, or snuggled in the cuddy.  No one could claim the helm seat at night during this expedition though, because we had brought along my wife’s Black Rolls (wheelchair), and the helm area was the only place that we could squeeze the wheelchair to allow room for me to occupy my required 6’ of sleeping space.  In the morning, the air has to be removed from the mattress and the sleeping bag must be stowed in order for there to be maneuvering room in the cockpit to prepare breakfast.

On your boat or mine, I’m up to watch the sunrise.  If humanly possible, I’ll have a cup of coffee in my hand.  I don’t mind standing or tinkering as the sun emerges, but I’ve also been known to relax in even a dew covered seat to witness the spectacle.  As soon as the sun clears the horizon I’m ready to up-anchor.  This sunrise watching may seem like a pretty ambitious feat, but it ties in rather closely with my ‘explorer’ mode that comes into play around 1pm.  Not long after lunch, I like to explore.  Some folks like to look for the ideal place to build a house or start a business or take a family vacation or to go fishing.  When I’m on the boat, at about 1pm, I begin to explore for a good place to take a nap.  Between 1 and 4 or so pm, I may try naps in several different places.  I can’t remember the last time I found a bad place.  If there is other crew aboard, I will encourage someone else to take the helm while I go below for a nap...I boat alone quite often and a nap under way is a great pleasure.

My girls may not make sunrise, but the shuffling in the cockpit usually has them working their way into the daylight shortly thereafter.  We put together some milk and cereal in a styrofoam cup, shared some pop tarts, passed around a glass of juice, tidied up ourselves and the boat and it was time to get the anchor aboard.

The morning on the Sound was ideal…it was crisp, clear and flat.  It took us about 4 ½ hours to leisurely make the 70 some miles to Clinton.  It was a most enjoyable way to turn a morning into an afternoon.  The harbor at Clinton was busy, but pleasant.  We had lunch at a marina restaurant and explored the waterfront businesses before venturing back out into the Sound.  Mystic was a tantalizing distance, but we decided we could tow the boat up that way and launch instead of making the trip by water.  This would allow us a more leisurely return pace to the marina.

After the pleasant visit to Clinton we headed back down Long Island Sound, settling in at Zieglers Cove for the night. By 6:30 pm we were comfortably anchored amidst the many moored boats in the cove. We were beginning to be a little more comfortable being part of the moored fleets that apparently inhabit every nook and cranny of protected water on the Sound, but got a little homesick for the unmatched solitude found in the anchorages along the North and South Carolina ICW.

About sundown several of the boats slipped their lines and headed back into the Sound, probably heading home. Just when we were grateful for things thinning out, a big stink came in and picked up the mooring next to us.  He immediately lit up the genset. I thought I was going to have to take my can of spray paint and graffiti his stern with, “I ran my genset all night”, but evidently after cooking dinner and watching his evening TV he realized it would be cool enough that he wouldn’t have to keep his A/C on all night. He shut down the genset about 10 pm.

We did the evening turn-in drill and slept soundly, getting underway again shortly after sunrise.  The Sound was again friendly and inviting.  As we headed back to Lincoln Harbor, plans for the rest of the cruise were considered.  There was the Hudson and West Point as well as Mystic by car and an Arima boat dealer I would like to have visited, but about this time, my teenage daughter’s thoughts were of all the things she was missing at home and my wife was ready for at least one night ashore.  We decided to postpone any decisions until we were back at the marina in Weehawken.

As we approached Manhattan we were brought out of our lazy cruising world by maneuvers necessary to keep out of the way of commercial and pleasure boat traffic.  The closer we got to Manhattan, the browner the air became.  The water traffic around Manhattan was overwhelming.  We still had a couple of vacation days left, but we unanimously decided to put QT back on her trailer and head home.  This wasn’t a big sacrifice for me as I had a buddy, Sadler, back home who needed help getting his 29’ Sea Ray back in the water at Charleston SC. In agreeing to head home early I could easily negotiate spending the upcoming weekend in Charleston, and I’d have a couple days vacation to burn later.

The entire NY experience was an overwhelming success.  It was fortunate we didn’t experience the ‘brown side’ of New York until late in our visit, and maybe the boat traffic was no worse when we left than when we arrived.  We will get back up there one day to fulfill our promise to do the Hudson…hopefully all the way to Lake Champlain.

Total miles = 1,776

Boat miles = 224

Boat fuel = 44.6

Engine Hours = 24.8

Epilogue

It turned out that Sadler couldn’t make it to Charleston until the following weekend.  I took a vacation day Friday so we could install his new outdrive without fear of Saturday closings of marine supply stores we might need to get parts from.  The boat, complete with new outdrive was launched early Friday afternoon.  We ‘tested’ it all the way up the ICW to Georgetown where we spent the night.  We dinghyed ashore in Georgetown and spent the evening exploring the town and boardwalk.

I was up for Sunrise, but we waited until we could get fuel to depart for the day.  The plan was to fill up, then head out the inlet at Winyah Bay, making our way north outside to Bald Head Island (on the Cape Fear River).  We would spend Saturday afternoon on the island, then head south down the ICW so we’d only have a ½ days run back to Charleston on Sunday.  Upon clearing the sea bouy, we finally accepted the fact that the ocean wasn’t in a condition to allow us to go north.  We ran the inlet back in and headed north up the ICW.

Even with 40+ miles an hour capability, we would be lucky to make Bald Head by dark.  This was due to slowing for no wake areas, a plethora of fishing boats, ski boats and water maggots, not to mention the large yachts opting to take the ICW north rather than braving the chop outside.  We did a 180 when we realized we’d really be stretching it to get to Bald Head and then back to Charleston on Sunday in time to drive the 3+ hours home in daylight.

We planned on stopping for the night in Georgetown again on the way back, but on arrival figured we’d just continue south until something told us it was time to anchor.  Nothing told us to anchor and before we knew it we were in Charleston Harbor.  We did a quick run out the inlet just to see how it was out there, then dropped the hook in the anchorage across from the City Marina.  We felt a little conspicuous because we were the only powerboat anchored there, but none of the rag baggers came by and told us to leave.  There was an impressive fireworks display that night, we guess coming from the Citadel…maybe part of a graduation ceremony?

I was up for Sunrise, but we didn’t get under way until much later.  We were putting together a to-do list for the Sea Ray, nothing major just the little things that always need to be done aboard.  Not having a plan for the day, we meandered south.  The tides were extra high and slack.  It was the first time I’d seen Elliot Cut with a mirror surface from one end to the other.  We hung a left after clearing the cut, heading down the Stono River.

Not wanting to make the bridge between the Stono and Buzzards Roost marinas open (Road 700), we crept through a fixed section with about 4” to spare.  If the tide had been running or there was any kind of chop, it wouldn’t have been a smart move.  As we approached the Stono Inlet, I told Sadler there was only about a 10% chance we’d be able to head out.  I wasn’t familiar with the area, we didn’t have charts and if the water was rough at all, I wouldn’t chance running the inlet.  But as luck would have it, the inlet was flat and looked quite predictable.

I was straining to draw course lines between the bouys in my mind, when a small fishing boat dashed out of the Folly River and made his way out the inlet.  I told Sadler to follow that boat while I kept a sharp eye on the sounder.  We passed the ‘local’ about ½ mile offshore, but soon found the water shoaling.  We thought we’d just let the ‘local’ pass us, then we’d follow him into deeper water, but when we turned around we saw him fumbling his way to a course behind us.  We decided to just go it on our own…the water wasn’t hard to read, and we were easily able to keep a minimum of 6’ under us until we were well offshore in 35’.

When we were clear of the inlet shoals, we angled northeast back in to the beach to take in the ocean side of Folly Island from about 15 feet of water.  We couldn’t have ordered up better weather.  The view was pretty as a picture.  When the abandoned lighthouse was abeam, we swung away from the shore to comfortably clear the jetties before turning back into the Charleston Inlet.  There’s a marked shortcut through the south jetty, but we didn’t want to mess with finding it.

We returned to the marina after poking around the harbor for a spell and still had plenty of time to clean the boat up and watch them put her back into the dry stack before heading the 200 land miles home.

We didn’t keep a log of the Sea Ray miles, but I do know that we burned over $250 in fuel during this ‘test’ of the new outdrive.

Wrightsville to Oriental 7/17-18/99

During the drive home after several days on the waters around New York, I reviewed in my mind the sections of the ICW I had yet to explore in my 15’11” cuddy, QT. My wife, daughter and I had just completed a circumnavigation of Manhattan, and 3 days/2 nights aboard on Long Island Sound. I had also taken QT out alone one night to see what the Big Apple looked like after dark from the water.  The unimaginable luminous activity of the island that night had been crowned by an unexpected fireworks display over the Statue of Liberty. Anyway, let’s see, what parts of the ICW had QT been on?

I’d put in at Elizabeth City and circled up the Dismal Swamp to Norfolk, then down to Coinjock, then to Albermarle Sound and back up the Pasquatank River to E-City.  I did Manteo on that trip and on the way home I even put in at Washington NC and took the Pamlico River to Bath to spend the night aboard (I know, Manteo, Washington and Bath are not on the ICW, but they’re notables). On another trip I’d taken a couple of buddies from Seagate on Adams Creek Canal to Ocracoke. We’d done a long weekend with the family at Southport/Baldhead area.  There had been numerous day trips out of my ‘home’ port of Charleston SC, both up to Georgetown and down to Beaufort SC. And yes, I’d put in at Georgetown one time and made it up to Southport. I’d done a weekend to Hilton Head that took me up to Beaufort, SC. I did a little time around St Mary’s, heading down the St Johns to De Land.  My wife and I had spent a couple days between St Augustine and Jacksonville after watching John Glenn go back into space from Mosquito Lagoon (we’d splashed in at New Smyrna on that trip). A buddy and I had also seen a shuttle go up in May ’96 from the Banana River after a couple days in and around Ft Myers. I’d put in at Daytona on several occasions covering the area between St Augustine and New Smyrna. I did Merrit Island to Malabar during Melbourne TrawlerFest ’99. Between a week in Florida in January ’98 and TrawlerFest ’98 in Stuart, I covered all the water between Ft Pierce and Biscayne Bay at least once. These certainly weren’t the only adventures QT had afforded, but they did represent unique portions of the ICW. 

It would appear then, that the areas I have yet to experience on QT are:

MM 70 to MM 168 = 98 - Camden Point on Albermarle Sound to Maw Point Shoal on the Neuse River.

MM 210 to MM 295 = 85 - Beaufort NC to Southport.

MM 923 to MM 966 = 43 - Malabar to Ft Pierce

MM 565 to MM 710 = 145 - Hilton Head to St Marys

It’s not like I’d actually missed these places though. My wife and I had traversed the entire ICW 4 or 5 times while we lived aboard our 27’ sloop in the 70’s.  We had also seen quite a bit of it again from the flybridge of our 35’ trawler in ’92 – ’93. And I had recently covered Fernandina to Charleston while delivering a Sea Ray 29, which a friend bought over the Internet. I’d still like to catch all these places though; covering the entire ICW aboard a 15’ 11” boat on weekends and vacations while working full time is my kind of challenge. One day I’d like to take every ferry on the East Coast as well.

OK, so I’d put those stretches of water on my to-do list. My family understands that I will spend a night aboard once a month, so when I suggest that I have a vision of my next outing, they humor me, and sometimes even surprise me by expressing an interest in going along.  They’re always welcome to accompany me, but it’s only on occasion that one or both will actually join in on the adventure. I figured I had used my sea time for July during trips to Charleston to replace the Bravo III outdrive on my friends recently purchased used Sea Ray 29. Then again on another weekend when we spent 6 hours in his bilge replacing a raw water impeller that was responsible for an overheated and hydro locked 454. But when my wife said she was to join our daughter on a mission trip to Kentucky between 7/17 and 7/24, I saw an opportunity to get away.

I left early Saturday morning, settling in behind the wheel of my wife’s Crown Vic for the 300 mile drive to Wrightsville NC. Having made arrangements at work to be gone until Wednesday, I was in no hurry.  I set the cruise control to 55, but stop often to check the trailer. I turned off US 76/74 into the parking lot of the ICW boat ramp at Wrightsville at about 3pm, 6+ hours after leaving Spartanburg.

The ramp was typically crowded for a Saturday afternoon, but I patiently waited in the staging area after installing the transom plug, removing the tie downs and putting the food, cell phone, GPS and charts aboard.  I noticed a fellow with a clipboard, sitting in a chair next to the ramp as I backed her in.  During my final ramp check prior to putting the trailer all the way in the water, I asked the fellow if I had to pay or register or something.  He said, “No”, he was just doing complimentary Coast Guard Aux Safety/Equipment inspections, and would I be interested?  I said, “Sure”, and pulled my rig up away from the ramp.

The guy couldn’t believe I was planning to spend the night aboard a 16 foot boat, at anchor, 85 miles up the ICW, but was very impressed with the condition of my boat and equipment. I passed his inspection with flying colors and he appropriately affixed the decal to my side window.

I have learned not to spend much time in the area after I launch.  I know that when I return, I will not be in a hurry to get the boat back on the trailer, and can do my local exploring then.  After launching the boat and moving my car/trailer to a parking spot, I mounted my TWL Burgee on the bow, dutifully idled my way through the water traffic that was waiting for the next bridge opening, pointed the bow north, put her on 20 mph and blissfully anticipated a leisurely trip to Beaufort.

I certainly wasn’t disappointed.  The sights, sounds and smells along the ICW are for me a natural high.  The 90 degree temps were not evident as the breeze funneled through the open center of the windshield. There were no Manatee signs and very few no wake zones.

Don’t you just love those mile marker posts that you find so regularly every 5 miles on at least the northern part of the ICW? While doing the ditch in the sailboat (and also the trawler for that matter) we logged the time as we passed each one. I maintained the tradition in QT, finding that the mileposts clicked by at regular 15 minute intervals. This wasn’t surprising as the depth sounder speedo said 20 mph, as did the GPS.  Speaking of the GPS, mine talks with my FloScan; their conversation resulted in a readout of 7.5 mpg…typical for the Honda 50 at 20 mph.

It was 8pm as I diverted from the ICW into the channel that services the Morehead waterfront.  There was crowd in the little waterfront park there, listening to a live band. I pulled her out of gear and listened for a spell, but didn’t recognize the piece that was being played.  I leisurely took in the rest of the waterfront as the smell of The Sanitary Seafood Restaurant reminded me of the many seafood meals I had eaten there.

There was still enough daylight left to make a couple passes of the Beaufort Waterfront.  I remembered how different it was today that it was in 1972 when we saw it for the first time.  Back then, there was only a bleak seawall, a couple of rundown docks often populated by rickety wooden menhaden boats, and Mike’s restaurant. Today there is a first class marina, many good restaurants, craft stores, and of course the waterfront Maritime Museum. After reviewing all the boats in the marina, and taking in all the activities on the boardwalk and waterfront restaurant decks, I did a leisurely run through the anchorage.

The anchorage was packed, with some boats blatantly anchored on the channel side of the markers, but there’s always room for me.  I put QT in 4’ of water and dropped the chainless 8S Danforth.  When 25’ of line went snug from the current, I put the Honda in gear and lightly held the rode.  There was no question we had a good grip on the bottom.  As I organized the boat for the night, a mosquito landed on my wrist, so I deployed the cockpit no-see-um net before kicking back to relax a spell before turning in.

I was up early, with coffee in hand to watch the sun make it’s appearance.  It was hard to believe the now quiet waterfront was the same one that was bristling with activity the night before.  I brought in the hook and maneuvered QT to an empty restaurant dock.  The town was still asleep as I wandered up and down the streets and along the waterfront boardwalk.

I passed a waiting shrimper and long liner as I made my way under the Beaufort Bridge. Town Creek Marina came into view and begged to be explored.  A couple on a large cruiser nodded a silent good morning smile as my quiet Honda pushed me back and forth amongst the slips.

I guess I was dreaming as my prop bumped the sand bar at the ICW end of Gallants Channel.  Heck, I was only a few feet from the ICW.  I throttled back and kicked the motor up until the prop was just barely out of the water, to make the last couple feet over the sand bar into the main channel. Once in the channel, I decided to continue north.

I always stop at Seagate Marina on Adams Creek Canal.  It’s a quiet, protected harbor in a developing community off the ICW between Oriental and Beaufort.  In addition to the marina, there’s a pool, tennis courts, and a little park. With the choice cruising grounds nearby of Ocracoke, Cape Lookout, Beaufort, Morehead, Oriental etc., Seagate would make a nice home port for a fellow interested in spending time on the water…I’ll have to keep that in mind for my retirement. After my tour of the harbor and a walk on the docks, I took on 12.5 gallons of gas, a couple bags of ice and continued north.

There’s a cruisers anchorage in Cedar Creek behind the “9” Range B tower, a couple miles shy of the Neuse River. It’s a regular side trip for me to loop through the anchorage.  There were a couple of trawlers and a rag-bagger, but no one I knew. 

I was close enough now, that I had to see Oriental. I short cut the regular ICW channel by doing a bee line to the Oriental bridge from green “3”, knowing that if the bottom came up too far I’d have to swing west to get into deeper water.  I was able to make the channel into Oriental without deviating from my rhumb line. Wandering off the trodden path is one of the many advantages of a small boat – if I had clipped an oyster bed, it would have cost me at most $51 for new propeller blades; less than most larger boats pay for an oil change. I carry 3 props for just such occasions.

Oriental was as charming as ever. The free 48 hr town dock was over-run with what Claiborne Young calls water maggots, but there was enough space for me to squeeze in.  There was a new to me addition in town – a very well equipped boating store, in which I spent about a half-hour, scrutinizing all that expensive gear. The simplicity afforded by a 16’ boat precludes the need for all but the most basic equipment, but I still enjoy looking. Then a quick trip out and around to Whittaker Creek (without going ashore), and I was on my way south, back to Wrightsville.

Every time I get near Beaufort I have to check out the waterfront -- this time I swung to port at mid channel “RS” and took the back way into Gallants Channel. As I approached, I realized the Beaufort Bridge wasn’t scheduled to open for 18 minutes, so I just went under it as usual 8-). As I passed the Spouter Inn my head filled with memories of how I helped turn that old abandoned building into what was originally doctors’ offices downstairs, with small dorm like rooms upstairs. We built classy living quarters for one of the doctors in the back half of the building and in addition to the restaurant we put in a marine supply store.  I believe I still have a business card which reads: Harborside Marina and Ship Chandlery…Jeff Nicholas, mgr. Nostalgia aside, I completed my sweep of the waterfront, rounded Radio Island, and headed down Bogue Sound.

The wind was 10 to 15 out of the SW and Bogue Sound became a little contrary at 20 mph, so I slowed to 16…just fast enough to keep her on a plane. Once the spoil banks to the east of the channel became more prominent, they protected the waterway and calmed it. I was once again able to meld into my laid back cruising routine…casually observing, listening and smelling my way down the ICW.

I hooked out for a quick nap somewhere near Surf City, eventually making Wrightsville about 4:30.  I made sure my car and trailer were still in the lot as I headed under the bridge into the boating chaos of Wrightsville proper. The bridge had just begun to open and yachts, sport-stinks, and rag-baggers, anxiously vied for position as an ACOE dredge lumbered seemingly oblivious toward the uprights. I usually just pull over, put her in neutral and wait until the mess clears, but even as small as I am, I wasn’t allowed be a bystander in this fracas. I was muscled out of the way on a couple occasions and finally goosed it across the waterway into the safety of 2 feet of water next to the channel that leads to Wrightsville Beach.

I followed that channel to the back side of Wrightsville Beach, noticing that there were now boats not only anchored north, between the channel and the fixed bridge, but also to the south. I’d have to remember that next time I had trouble finding a spot up in the pocket.  I continued around south, eventually looking to port out the Masonboro Inlet. I hung around inside the inlet until a sport-stink blasted past me on his way out. I retraced his path out toward the end of the jetties in the calm of his wake, but knowing I didn’t want to spend any time out in the big puddle, I did a 180 and surfed back in. I continued straight in from the inlet, following the markers directly back to the ICW.  Once back within the confines of the ditch, I again proceeded south.

I’m not sure why I find Snows Cut so fascinating, but I just think it’s a neat place. Maybe it’s the folks fishing from the shores with cane poles, maybe it’s the feeling of being in a protected canyon, maybe it’s just the abrupt change in atmosphere… I ‘celebrate’ Snows Cut by doing a donut on the way through. This time was no exception. I cranked her hard to port, bumped it a little above fast idle, did a 360, and was on my way again.

There are a series of channel markers with arrows on them at the south end of the cut. I’ve always been curious about what was up that channel. I peered in as I was passing and noticed a sign that said ‘fuel’. I could use some fuel, but it was late Sunday afternoon. I went in anyway, found the fuel dock and tied up. As I was scoping out the nifty marina, complete with showers, store and boat ramp, the ‘ranger’ came down and asked if I wanted gas or diesel. As I took on a few gallons, I learned from the attendant that this was the marina at Carolina Beach State Park…slips were $16/night and that included water, electricity and showers…the boat ramp was $4. I picked up a pamphlet at the store that described campsites, hiking trails and indigenous plants – including carnivorous ones.

With my tank topped off, I continued south. Even though I’d covered my targeted miles for the trip, I thought I’d peek into Bald Head Marina. As soon as I got into the main channel of the Cape Fear River (Hey, who changed the color of the markers?) the waters became lumpy and confused. I throttled back to pre-planing speeds and grunted out 5 or so miles before deciding it wasn’t worth the trouble. When I got back to the Snows Cut channel, I toyed with the idea of doing Wilmington, but a quick calculation showed I could make the Wrightsville ramp before 8pm, and if I did, I could be back home in Spartanburg around 2am. I decided to return to the ramp.

I never did see another TWL Burgee, or receive a call from anyone seeing mine, but I thought I heard a call for The Right Whale while I was on Adams Creek. Also, I saw Toucan, a KK42 in the Swansboro area. I have seen Toucan advertised for charter out of Ft Myers Florida…I wonder if someone has bought her, or if she’s on an extended charter.

When I returned to work unexpectedly Monday afternoon, my peers were astonished that after driving 300 miles, I didn’t make full use of my time off and stay on the water longer. I explained that to me, boating is like scratching an itch. When it quits itching, you quit scratching. Perhaps my adventures have also taught me that it’s best to end the cruise on a high note. There’s nothing worse than being rushed to get back, only to run into complications or bad weather or traffic. A boat is an emotional amplifier. It makes the good times better, but it also makes the bad time worse. When it’s as good as gets (and the Wrightsville/Oriental trip certainly had been so far), why push your luck?

Total Miles 884, Boat miles 260, Boat fuel 35.8, Engine hours 16.2,  Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Charleston 8/14/99

I have clearance from the Admiral to spend one night aboard each month, but my partner left work at noon on Friday, so I couldn’t get away Friday afternoon for a long weekend.  My August adventure turned out to be only a day trip, and I don’t usually log day trips, but this one was memorable.  With the boat packed, the trailer tires checked, the trailer attached and the rig staged, I left Spartanburg, heading for Charleston SC at 5am Saturday morning towing my 15’11” Honda powered cuddy.

As usual, I ignored the speed limit signs on the interstate.  I don’t believe in changing lanes to pass either.  After a stop for biscuits and coffee, and a couple rest area side trips to check the trailer, I rolled into Charleston about 10:00 am.  I went on through Charleston to Folly Beach, to make an unexpected call on a couple I’ve known for about 30 years.

Bill and Betty Sue own/run a Surf Shop on Folly Island.  They’ve lived on the island as long as I’ve known them.  They are responsible members of the community – Bill even drives the fire truck for the Folly Beach Fire Department.  Besides the Surf Shop and doing surf board repair, Bill and Betty Sue do silk screening for custom made T shirts, and Betty Sue has an embroidery business.  Bill used to set/pull crab traps from a wind surfer and I’ve also known him to climb into a wet suit to dig clams in the winter.  The sun has taken it’s toll on these once avid surfers who now do most of their surfing via snow boards during mountain vacations, but they still spend a part of each day on the water, fishing via their outboard powered Jon boat.  On Trawler World List, we exchange experiences and opinions, maybe in search of Truths about trawlers; to polish or not to polish…one anchor or two…  In my mind, Bill and Betty Sue are the unquestionable source of Truth regarding Folly Beach.  Don’t ask them about Charleston – they only cross the bridge once a week for groceries, but if there’s anything you want to know about Folly Beach – past, present or future – Bill and Betty Sue are a source of golden information.

Betty Sue and I talked awhile, catching each other up on events that had transpired in the 6 months since I had last visited the Surf Shop. During my conversation with Betty Sue, Bill gazed out the window at my trailered rig, mumbling about what a nice boat it was.  I finally suggested that Bill accompany me to the Folly ramp and I’d take him for a spin on the little boat.  He declined – he couldn’t leave Betty Sue alone in the shop on a busy Saturday, but I knew he was dying to go.

I prepared for my leave by explaining that I planned to drive back through Charleston to Sullivans Island.  I’d put in at the ramp that was about ¼ mile north of the harbor up the ICW.  Bill said he’d never heard of that ramp, but offered that it would be quicker if I’d just splash at the Folly ramp, run the Lighthouse Inlet, then cut across the south jetty into the harbor.  I could then head over to the backside of Sullivans and would be there in a heartbeat compared to the drive in the car.  I readily agreed that his plan was a good one, but the last time I tried to run Lighthouse Inlet it took 2 hours of fumbling through the shallow marsh, then I clipped an oyster bed when I finally emerged into the ocean.  The tide was now falling and I really wasn’t excited about the prospect of waiting out a tide stuck in the mud or on some shoal.  As I was leaving, Bill was overpowered by the urge to go out with me and said, “We could put in at the Folly ramp, and I’ll run you out the inlet so you know the way…you could bring me back and still be ahead of the game.” I took him up on his offer and we trailered QT the ¼ mile to the Folly ramp.

The Folly ramp is first class, complete with floating docks.  I left Bill with QT as I parked the car/trailer.  When I got back to the dock, Bill was very deliberately tending both the bow line and the stern line…he reminded me of a brand new father holding his newborn. If I had been alone, I’d have just tied off the bow and let QT find her own place, at the dock or streaming down river.  As we got aboard, Bill looked QT up and down and exclaimed, “This is a REAL boat”.

I subtly nudged Bill into a position behind the helm.  “You might just as well take her all the way; it would be easier than you shouting instructions to me,” I volunteered.

Bill just kind of stood there taking it all in, then finally confessed, “How do you do this?”

I showed him how the throttle/shifter worked and he finally settled in.  He tentatively shifted into and out of gear a couple times and was then comfortably ready to get under way.  Bill’s Jon boat doesn’t even have a steering wheel.  Bill steers his outboard from the stern with a cocked elbow.

Bill pushed the throttle all the way down and headed along the Folly River.  I reached over to set the depth sounder alarm to 6 feet.  Bill asked what that box was, and what was I doing.  I showed Bill the picture of the bottom on the sounder display (complete with images of the fish below the boat) and the readout showing the depth, speed, log and water temp.  Bill said he didn’t need one of those.  He knew how deep the water was and where the fish were, and he didn’t really care about the rest.

We snaked our way through the maze of sea grass out to the abandoned lighthouse at 25+ miles/hr.  Bill would tell me how deep the water was and the sounder would ‘echo’ his words.  Bill began to explain how to line up the brown house so we would miss the shoal, but I interrupted him pointing to the breadcrumbs being deposited on the GPS chart.  “I’ll just follow these when I head out”, I told him. 

He said, “Neat” in a tone that meant ‘interesting…but a little too technical to be useful’.

We presently made it to the lighthouse and left it seaward to get beyond the bar.  Bill slowed a little between the lighthouse and the beach, “It gets shallow here…we just punch it in our Jon boat and let the motor ride up over the bar.  We’ll take it easy so we don’t bump your Honda too hard.”

When we cleared the bar we headed into deeper water.  Bill showed me where the other channel was, between two bars farther out.  He said he beached his boat on the outer bar while he and Betty Sue caught dinner.  They never catch more than a couple days worth of fish; no sense to it. Why put fish in the freezer when you can catch what you need anytime.

Bill said when I came back after dropping him off, if I followed the shore northish, I could get into the harbor quickly by just running over the submerged jetty.

I let Bill steer the boat back to the ramp, observing that in the places where Bill said to watch the depth, he was dead on the previous bread crumb track during the return trip.

I left the boat tied up to the floating dock while I drove Bill back to the Surf Shop.  In less than 10 minutes I was retracing the path to the lighthouse. When I cleared the lighthouse, I thought about Bill’s recommendation to just run over the submerged jetty, but opted for Dynamite Cut instead.  I drifted for about 10 minutes looking for a chart so I could punch the coordinates of the cut into the GPS, but I couldn’t turn up a chart, so I just took it slow.  I always wear a life jacket when running an inlet – you should too. From the main channel I veered into the ICW north, making my way north to Tollers Cove to check out the boats.  At Tollers, I handed the dockhand a buck as I floated past the fuel dock, he tossed me a bag if ice on my second pass.

From Tollers, I took the channel in front of Mt. Pleasant up into Shem Creek.  The temperature was about 90 degrees, but there was a nice breeze coming in over the quarter; I kept the speed to about 8mph as I took in the sights and smells along the way.  I didn’t stop anywhere in Shems…I just enjoy poking around dockside activities.

I stayed inside Crab Bank as I rounded Hog Island to Patriots Point.  There’s no official channel there, but I’d seen a boat go through that way last time out. I weaved through the new marina at Patriots Point (there’s a trawler for charter there), caught an eyeful of the carrier Yorktown, and then headed over to the Battery.  I did the Municipal Marina (the tide was out so far the inner slips were only mud), then over to Ripley Light, then back across to the Ashley Marina where I noticed a KK42 with a For Sale sign. Not having to be anywhere in a hurry I headed up the Ashley to check out Dolphin Cove and Duncans.  I love looking at boats.  When we cruised in the Bahamas, I would spend hours with a mask and snorkel admiring the underwater lines of the boats in the anchorage.

The return trip took me through Wapoo Creek/Eliott Cut and down the Stono River, with of course, side trips into Stono and Buzzards Roost Marinas.  My thoughts again turned to a chart as I rounded the last turn on the Stono and looked out into the ocean.  Yes, it would have been nice to have a chart to make my way up the backside of Folly Island to the ramp, but by now the tide had turned, and I’m not opposed to adventuring chartless on a rising tide. I was trailered up and on my way home well before sundown.

The 200 miles home in the car was as satisfying as the boating.  Not being fearful of speed limit signs, never changing lanes to pass, hardly ever having to slow down…all of this following a relaxing day on the water – it allows the mind to get creative.  Try it some time.  Put the cruise control on 52 or 53 mph…relax and enjoy the trip.

I’ve had some of my most creative moments while driving.  Of course, some of my minds' inventions seem a little less fabulous when I re-enter the real world, but some revelations endure.  For instance…my buddy with the Sea Ray 29.  He would love to have a generator to run his air conditioning while at anchor.   He also has a bit of trouble docking due to the current at some of the Charleston marinas.  And, last time out, his raw water pump gave up the ghost – it would have been nice to have an alternate method of getting back to the marina.

There has to be an option to a $6,000 genset, especially when it means relocating so much stuff in an already crowded engine compartment.  That huge swim platform could easily handle a small air-cooled generator, but that would be noisy, not to mention unmarinized and subject to early demise by the harsh salt water environment.  We’d need a water-cooled, marinized motor of some kind.  So then it dawns on me.  There ARE marinized water-cooled motors – they’re called outboards.  Maybe with a little tinkering a fellow could mount a generator on the cowl of a nice quiet Honda 4 stroke, or maybe instead of a generator, mount a hydraulic pump that could power that generator inside the engine compartment with no worries of intake or exhaust plumbing.  This outboard could be a get home engine if needed, and if it could also be relocated athwartship it would make a nice thruster.  If it drove a hydraulic pump, a fellow could add maybe even add a bow thruster.  And how many small(er) boats that already have kickers, would be interested in an opportunity to get some 120 for maybe an air conditioner – I know I would.

So much to think about…

Total miles = 495.3

Boat miles = 77.3

Boat gallons = 10.8

Engine hours = 7.3

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Labor Day  ’99 (9/4-6)

My daughter was to visit a college friend in Knoxville over the Labor Day weekend.  My wife Suzy and I would drive Sara Jane up to Knoxville with the little 15’11” cuddy in tow. We would deposit SJ in Knoxville, then take to the water.  You may have read of my solo experience on the Tennessee River between Knoxville down to about 10 miles south of Watts Bar Lock in early May. As a result of that post, I swapped e-mail with a fellow listee in Chattanooga.  Lee recommended I see the Grand Canyon of the Tennessee River on my next trip that way, and that’s exactly what my wife and I intended to do – we’d explore the waters between the Chickamauga and Nickajack locks.  If we found Lee aboard when we got to Hales Bar, we’d say “Hey” and invite ourselves aboard; otherwise we’d just drool at his Seaton 42 from the dock.

We were casual about our departure time from home, then meandered up the mountain to Knoxville.  We also visited too long when we dropped SJ off and were hard pressed to make the 100 mile drive to Chattanooga in time to get rigged, launched and settled by sundown.  To make matters worse, I often encourage landside exploration we would otherwise miss by intentionally not targeting a specific ramp, so we did have to do a little exploring. We liked a ramp about a mile downstream of the Chickamauga Lock. A swift/uneventful launch allowed us to make our way about 10 miles downstream to a protected anchorage in time to get the bug net up before the onslaught of mosquitoes. We dug out the transistor radio and took in the remainder of the Braves game before turning in.

Up the next morning before dawn, I brought in all 10’ of rode and my 8S Danforth, to relocate to a better vantagepoint for witnessing the sunrise. I put the coffee water on to boil as I made my way down river about 4 miles at idle. We passed an anchored houseboat with a couple sitting on the top deck, presumably in preparation for the same spectacle we were about to witness. Our quiet Honda allowed us to overhear a conversation they were having about the peaceful night and beautiful morning.

As we watched the sun clear the horizon, a family of 3 raccoons scoured the beach for breakfast.  We then made our way slowly through the Grand Canyon of the Tennessee River. Great Blue Heron were spaced at regular intervals along the banks, as if assigned guard duty for their specific areas. In the cool of the morning, my wife and I thanked Lee for encouraging us on to see these beautiful waters.

We were almost totally alone on our journey through the Grand Canyon, encountering only a single fisherman on a center console.  Suzy asked about the virtues of the center console.  I explained that the design provided for uncluttered access to the water; a person could ‘follow’ a fish completely around the boat without getting his line fouled on windshields, motor controls, or other obstructions. She nodded in acceptance as she returned her gaze to the beautiful canyon cliffs.

We took the entire glorious morning, (4 hours), to go the 20 miles between last nights anchorage at Jackson Bar and the spot we’d chosen for a morning nap just shy of where Lee kept his boat.  It was early for a nap, but it was still cool, and by tying off to an overhanging limb in 20” of water, we were able to keep the boat in the shade.  The cuddy, although small, was quite comfortable with a breeze blowing through the hatch and out the open top of the closed companionway. As we emerged into the cockpit after our ‘nap’ Suzy sheepishly commented, “You can’t do that on a center console.”

It was a quick ride to Hales Bar.  We immediately spotted the Seaton and tied up at the marina office to inquire if Lee was about. We also needed ice. The lady in the office said, “You evidently don’t want fuel, you’re not at the fuel dock.”

I explained that I had a Honda outboard, and with the slow speed and favorable current, I’d been getting close to 9 mpg…I hadn’t used 4 gallons since I splashed at Chattanooga. After getting my ice, I learned from the lady that Lee was not aboard.  We re-tied QT in front of the Seaton to get a close up look at her from the dock.  Suzy asked what material she was made of. I knuckled the dark blue hull, but the sound wasn’t familiar…she looked like metal, but I didn’t see the telltale frames inside the bulwarks, and the rub rail seemed to sport laminations as if made of wood. I finally admitted I couldn’t tell what she was made of, but she was gorgeous. High bow, thick hull, two windlasses, sturdy masts, meaty pilothouse, and canoe stern. Gorgeous!

We snapped a few pictures, untied QT and headed back out into the river.  As we passed the marina a fellow was waving and pointing to a couple walking down the dock.  We did a 180 and made our way back to the spot in front of the Seaton.  Lee and his first mate were just preparing to go aboard.

Lee said he bought the boat at Trawler Fest Melbourne, had work done in Lauderdale, brought the boat up the Tenn-Tom and was now doing the finishing touches himself.  Lee took me on a tour…Bow thruster, active stabilizers, full electronics, fuel polishing, Gulf Coast filter.  Accommodations were comfortably functional. I learned that the hull was glass. What a boat. She feels so solid and warm.  Lee calls her Katahdin II.  If she were mine, because of the seaworthiness she exudes, I’d call her BODYGUARD.

We didn’t want to overstay our welcome, although the comfort of the air-conditioned salon was inviting in the 90+ temp outside. We reluctantly departed, heading down to Nickajack Dam to check out the recreation areas there. We now needed to keep QT on a plane to keep the breeze fresh through the open center of the windshield. After checking out the dam, we headed north.

My wife has MS and doesn’t do well in the heat – she wears a Cool Vest, which is a vest filled with inserts, that are ‘charged’ in the cooler or refrigerator. These inserts freeze at about 65 degrees. A 20-minute charge in ice water will allow the wearer to be cool for 2 hours or more. Even with the Cool Vest, the heat was overpowering. We decided to head back to the ramp, put the boat on the trailer and head north. If Suzy recovered in the car air conditioning we would launch somewhere near Knoxville and stay aboard for the night, otherwise we’d find a motel.

When we were a little south of Knoxville, Suzy decided that she was game for another night on the water. I remembered a nice ramp from my previous trip, but we couldn’t find it. It was after 9pm and very dark when we finally settled on a ramp we’d previously ruled out because it was too dark to evaluate.  I parked across the street and walked to the ramp to see if it had a floating dock. I said, “Hey” to a solitary fisherman as I worked my way to the end of the dock in the darkness. This ramp would do, but it would be tricky backing the trailer down in the darkness, especially in the unlit, congested, confined parking lot.

Suzy was still a little overheated and although she’s had experience backing the trailer in the daylight at a familiar ramp, I figured it best to handle the whole launch myself. I’d back a little, get out, check the position of the car/trailer, get back in the car, back a little, get out, check the position… When I was getting out of the car for the third time, I saw a flashlight signaling behind me. It was the fisherman, who finally figured out I was trying to get in the water. He not only directed me while I was backing down the ramp, but took the lines and held the boat while I parked the car. He also offered valuable information (like where the hell I was, because I didn’t have a clue – the ramp wasn’t on the map and I didn’t have a chart). Folks that hang around the water are always ready to lend a hand.

We followed the fisherman’s directions as we idled toward the river proper, wondering if the mosquitoes would converge on us before we got the anchor down and the bug net up. We fumbled our way about ½ mile in the dark when the GPS finally told us we were on the chart. I immediately found 4 feet of water and dropped the hook. We deployed the bug net in haste but there were no mosquitoes to speak of – maybe it was past their bedtime too? The darkness had offered up a cool, comfortable breeze. As we were drifting off to sleep, Suzy reminded me how nice it was to be sleeping aboard, and how we saved $32.95 by not staying in a motel. I corrected her, explaining that by my calculations, we saved over $200,000 by not sleeping on a Seaton 42.

Coffee for sunup and we were on our way up the river. We encountered only a couple other boats as we lazed our way to Knoxville, gawking at the fancy homes atop the cliffs and along the shores. Knoxville was like grandma’s warm kitchen on a cold winter’s afternoon – complete with the smell of hot chocolate and a big plate of just baked cookies…it just felt good to be there. There were big houseboats rafted 8 and 10 deep in columns of 3’s and 4’s, all flying University of Tennessee Volunteer flags and banners. There was a clump of cruisers/houseboats anchored across the river…there were runabouts as thick as a swarm of bees around the shoreside restaurant docks. One of the downtown bridges across the TN River was loaded to the gills with fireworks…at sundown it would erupt in a festival of fleeting color. I wanted so much to drop the hook and wait for the celebration, but we were on a schedule and had to get home. I’ve heard that there is quite a fireworks show associated with the Kentucky Derby – maybe I’ll get a chance to be there for that one…

Total Miles – 774.7

Boat miles – 125.7

Boat gallons – 16.7

Engine hours – 10.6

TWL Burgee sightings – 0

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Wild Things in Charleston 11/13-14/99

It wasn’t a designated boating weekend, but my buddy with the Sea Ray 29 asked if I’d like to spend Saturday night aboard on “Wild Things”.  “Sure!”, I said with only slight hesitation – remembering on a previous expedition that the engine overheated and quit running. I subsequently spent 6 hours in the bilge, replacing the impeller in the raw water pump -- after draining salt water out of the cylinders of the hydrolocked 454.

I met up with Sadler in the Kmart parking lot at 7am Saturday.  After I loaded my gear into his tiny trunk, we picked up our 3^rd crew member Bob, a few miles down the road, then took to the interstate.  The 200 mile drive to Charleston from Spartanburg was invigorating in the brand new BMW M series convertible.  It takes dedication, resolve and concentration to keep that little rocket under the hundred miles/hr mark.

“Wild Things” is kept in a dry stack at Duncan’s Marina on the Ashely River. To our good fortune, Duncan’s was having a Customer Appreciation day that Saturday, complete with free food, a help yourself Budweiser wagon and a live band.  The festivities didn’t start until 1pm so I had plenty of time to execute my only assignment for the trip -- install a new depth sounder head in the dash.  This was a no brainer – it was an exact replacement for the existing defective head.  I was finished in plenty of time to help kick off the Customer Appreciation celebration. About 4pm, totally satiated with bar-b-q and Bud, we decided to make a pass of the Charleston battery before heading south down the ICW to Beaufort.

The ICW was at it’s best. The sky was clear, the water was flat, there was a subtle breeze.  The boat will go 40+mph, but we kept her in the low 30’s. I handed off the helm to Bob after clearing the high level Hwy 174 bridge that takes cars to Edisto Island. The waterway kind of closes up at that point and the markers are easy to follow.  Bob was not familiar with the ICW, but he’s a quick study.  I explained “red, right, returning”, but for the ICW he also needed to keep in mind a guideline that I put together for my wife. “Even a red nun should wear a yellow triangle inland”…which translates to ‘EVEN numbers are RED, NUN shaped markers, but on the ICW it’s more important to keep the YELLOW TRIANGLE INLAND (even if it’s not found on a red nun).  Bob was also instructed that the depth sounder alarm was to be interpreted as the neutral directive.  “Don’t think, or ask yourself any questions when the alarm goes off – pull the throttle immediately into neutral.”  Bob exhibited understanding of the neutral directive a couple times when I allowed him to wander out of the channel.

I stayed at the helm with Bob until I was comfortable that he was comfortable, then I got together with Sadler to decide whether we should continue on to Beaufort in the diminishing sunlight, or hook out for the night.  I love night running, especially when the ICW and weather are so inviting. It didn’t take more than casual suggestion for us to unanimously decide to throttle back and keep chewing up the remaining 25 miles or so to Beaufort.

It wasn’t 15 minutes after we decided to keep on truckin’ that the boat slowed to a stop, as if the neutral directive was being followed. However, the depth sounder alarm was not apparent.  “What’s the deal, Bob?” I inquired.

Bob said, “I don’t know, she lost power for a short moment, then just quit”.

By this time the high temp alarm was squealing.  The gauge verified an over heat condition -- it wasn’t pegged, but it was up there.  We dropped the hook (in the middle of the channel).  A quick review of the engine compartment revealed a thrown belt on the raw water pump.  I was familiar with this pump, it was the same one that I had replaced the impeller on a couple months back.

Closer examination revealed that the bearings on the front of the pump were toast. The seal was hanging loosely on the shaft behind the pulley.  The bearing cage was partially exposed; devoid of bearings.

After much debate about how we might jury rig a raw water pump by using the fresh water system pump, or even the macerator, we eventually threw in the towel. We realized that because the fuel pump is mounted on top of the raw water pump and it’s lever is activated by a cam on the raw water pump, even if we were able to get sea water into the mill, we’d still need to address getting fuel from the tank to the carb. At about 7:00pm we called Boat/US on the cell phone. 

“We need a tow back to Charleston” we told the dispatcher, “Were at MM 116, “R 176”.  They’d send a boat right out.

I brought the hook up off the bottom and let it dangle on about 5 feet of rode.  The boat drifted slowly toward the beach.  When I felt the anchor bump, I let out another 15’ of rode and tied it off.  We then all migrated below to fix hot dogs and console each other because our cruise had been stopped in it’s tracks.

After dinner, we all went up on deck to watch the stars.  The night sky was a cloudless brilliance of sparkling points.  The ICW mimicked the twinkling stars as current rippling passed the stern coaxed the water into phosphoresce.  We soon forgot we were broken down.  “Are there any more chips? Bring up another beer when you come.”

Somewhere around 10pm the radio crackled – it was the tow captain.  He would be coming up on us in about 10 minutes.  We saw his spotlight breaking through the darkness as he approached.

The tow captain was extremely professional.  He attached a bridal to the bow cleats and instructed us to bring in the hook.  He delicately took up the slack in the tow line. We were hardly aware of any acceleration at all as he brought us up to 7 or 8 miles/hr. I did a ‘goto’ on the GPS to Charleston – it would be over 5 hours before we arrived in the harbor, then another 5+ miles to Duncan’s Marina.

What a gorgeous trip back.  Not a care in the world.  I stayed on deck for all but about ½ hr., ducking below for a quick catnap about 5 miles out of Charleston.  The tow boat captain called on the VHF just short of Wapoo Cut, he said he didn’t think he could make it to Duncan’s, he was running low on fuel.  He brought us into the Municipal Marina at around 5am.  We’d wait there until he could gas up, then he’d take us the rest of the way  up the Ashley to Duncan’s.  He finessed us into a place at the dock I wouldn’t have even considered under our own power.

I turned in as soon as we were tied up, and got a couple hours sleep before I heard the shuffle of the tow boat untying for his trip to the fuel dock.  As long as I was up, I took the opportunity to walk the Municipal Marina docks.  I get mesmerized by all the beautiful boats.  I was studying the paravane rigging of a Nordhavn 46 when I was brought back to reality by the return of the tow boat.

We had a new tow boat captain now, he was the owner of the franchise that handled Tow Boat US between Georgetown SC and Jacksonville FL.  We learned that the going rate is $150/hr from the time the tow boat leaves port, until it again returns.  The charges for the rescue of “Wild Things” would be in the neighborhood of $1,600…but in this case, because Sadler had purchased the unlimited towing option with his insurance, the charge would be zero.  The tow boat captain ‘delivered’ us to the Duncan dock with the precision and care of a surgeon.

We had the boat temporarily put up on the work rack on it’s way back to the dry stack.  This time, it took only an hour or so to extricate the raw water pump from the engine. And even though it was not authorized, I also took the liberty of removing the circulating pump. I had ‘stethoscoped’ the circulating pump while diagnosing an engine growl after installing the new impeller last time.  A new circulating pump now, would most certainly save me another stint in the bilge at a later date.   

Playing a long shot, we hustled to Boat US with both pumps to see if there was anything they could do for us on a Sunday.  It turned out that no one in Charleston could help us on Sunday. We circled back and left the old parts at Boat US.  Hopefully they’ll be able to get replacements in time so we can get “Wild Things” back on the water before the Charleston Boat parade on December 4^th.

Total miles = 546

Boat miles = 111

Boat miles under our own power = 54

Wild Things fuel = 19 gallons

Tow boat fuel > 200 gallons

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Folly Beach 11/19-20/99

When I was a kid, I had nightmares.  Things would chase me; I couldn’t get away. Then somehow I taught myself to fly in my dreams. When there was trouble, I would stretch my arms and float off.  Once in the air, I would look back to see my nemesis fading away behind me as I made my way to freedom.

That feeling is still with me today, in real life. The trailer has been backed into the water, the little Honda outboard is purring.  I slide the shifter into reverse and gently rock QT from side to side by moving my weight from one foot to the other and back.  There is a subtle vibration as QT begins to slide backward into the water. The hard foundation of the trailer gives way to that pleasant floating sensation. I spin QT around, move the shifter to forward and look back to see my cares fading away behind me as I make my way to freedom.

The beginning of this trip to freedom began at the Folly Beach boat ramp about 10 miles south of Charleston SC. I only had about an hour of sunlight, but there was no hurry to be anywhere. I lazed along the Folly River heading SW toward the Stono. I found the Stono quite inviting as I made my way into the unfamiliar waters of the Kiawah River.  I wondered if I could get all the way to Seabrook or even Bohickett Creek by following the Kiawah, but as the sunlight waned, the water thinned and the no-see-ums came out in droves.  My explorations would have to wait until another time.  I headed back to the Stono Inlet and anchored off Sandy Point.  From this spot on the lee shore, with nothing between me and the ocean, the gentle breeze kept the bugs behind me.

It’s a long time to sunrise from 8pm and I didn’t want to spend it all sleeping.  I sat in the cockpit listening to the sea and watching the moon and stars until the dew got the better of me.  I set the shallow alarm for 2 feet knowing that the tide would eventually steal away most of the 4 feet of water under me.  I’d get up and move when the alarm went off, using the opportunity to spend some more time on deck – maybe take a trip up the river if the notion struck me.  The combination of me being blissfully tucked away in the cuddy with moonlight streaming in through the ports and the gentle rocking from the swells made me feel like a youngster in my mothers arms while she sang, “Go to sleep, my little picaninny, down beneath the silver southern moon.  Rock a-by, hush a-by Mammy’s little baby…” It was a gorgeous night!

The depth sounder alarm went off; I crawled out of my sleeping bag and brought the Honda to life.  I moved QT into 6 feet of water, popped a cool one and spend an hour or so marveling at the ambiance.  I set the alarm for 5:30am and turned in again.

I was up before 5:30, anxious to begin my day.  I wished I had listened to my wife when she said to buy a gallon of drinking water.  Winterizing my boat isn’t much trouble – make the outboard perpendicular and drain the fresh water tank. But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to re-fill the tank. I guess I justify this by knowing it reduces the weight by 100+ pounds. It couldn’t possibly be because I’m too lazy to drag the hose out to refill the tank. At least there were options…I threw a couple handfuls of ice from the cooler into the coffee pot.  It took a little longer to boil, but it got the job done. There’s nothing that compares to that first cup of coffee on the water.

I waited impatiently for the sun to show me the big puddle.  Finally, when the glow of the horizon hinted that it would soon be dawn, I got under way.  I thought I’d just poke my nose out the Stono Inlet into the Atlantic…just far enough to see if the ocean was awake yet.  I took it slow, and by the time I was at the first (uncharted) marker, the emerging sun revealed a very friendly ocean.  I kept on going, following the convoluted path of the markers. I could often see the back side of breakers as I snaked my way to the Stono Inlet ‘sea buoy’, S1.

After clearing S1, I turned off the motor for about a half hour, relishing the clear morning before heading back in. The return trip was just as pleasant as the trip out…maybe more so.  I had the GPS track to follow in and didn’t have to concentrate so much on not missing a marker. 

I then poked about the tributaries and feeders of the Folly River, dropping the hook on a couple occasions to watch the porpoise play “Run the Mullet Up On the Beach”.  I finally continued up the Folly, past the boat ramp, in search of the Lighthouse Inlet. Having a route in the GPS from a previous trip, I was a little cocky, traveling at minimum planning speed (15 mph) counting on the depth sounder to warn me of shallow water.  As I rounded a switchback, a Boston Whaler past me, nudging me off my track toward the center of the creek.  The next thing I knew, my hand instinctively pulled the throttle to neutral as I skidded to an abrupt halt. I’m not sure whether it was the depth sounder alarm or the lurch forward that triggered the response, but I do know that when the boat came to a stop, I was in ankle deep water.

I took off my shoes and got out, probing the murky water with my bare feet to see if there was an escape route nearby. Finding no hope of getting off this sandy hump in the middle of the creek, and knowing I was in the last hour of a falling tide, I decided a nap was in order. 

I slept for about an hour.  When I awoke I discovered I was high and dry on a plot of land about the size of ½ a football field.  The boat and motor were none the worse for wear. I performed a thorough investigation of my island then, using stalks of expired plant life I staked the waters edge so I could keep track of the tide.  Several boats passed by, some on one side of my island, some on the other.  Most of them asked if I wanted help, but I was perfectly happy to wait for the tide.

About 10:30 the cell phone rang.  It was my buddy Sadler and his friend Bob – on the previous weekend we had attempted a cruise from Charleston to Beaufort SC in Sadler’s Sea Ray 29. His raw water pump went out to lunch before making Beaufort, some 45 miles out of  Charleston.  We were towed back to Charleston; a 6 hour ride with a $1,600 price tag.  It turned out that the $450 pump was backordered at Mercruiser, but we found a shop on the Internet that had one in stock. I was supposed to help them put the new pump on this weekend, but didn’t want to rely on his boat, Wild Things, to get in my sea time – that’s why I’d taken my own boat down…a day early.  At any rate, I told him it would be awhile before I had enough water under me to get off my island, but I’d be there as soon as I could.

Sadler and Bob had the new pump installed by the time I got QT back on the trailer and had driven the 15 miles to his marina. All I had to do was put the belts back on, and then we could get Wild Things back in the water and burn some fuel (17 gals/hr). Sadler and Bob were anxious to try the trip to Beaufort again, but I thought it best to put the muffs on the outdrive and fire up the engine while we were still on the work rack – to check for leaks and proper circulation.

The engine lit right up and purred like a kitten (actually, a 454 purrs like a VERY BIG kitten). The temp climbed to 180 and held. There were no leaks. We were ready to get Wild Things in the water and BOOGIE!  But wait, it looks like the pulley is wobbling on the new pump.  Maybe it got bumped during the installation and we could just tweak it back into alignment.

We could in fact, get the pulley aligned by coaxing it with a 2 X 4, but each time we fired up the engine, the pulley would again take to wobbling.  There was nothing to do but take the pump back off (a 1 ½ hr job) for examination and repair/replacement.  Bummer!

Sadler apologized for not being able to take us boating, and promised, “Next time…” But not going out on his boat was not a disappointment for me. I know not to rely on someone else for my sea time – that’s why I had come down a day early with my own boat. And while it is difficult for Salder to understand, there’s no question that I would much prefer to spend time on my own boat than on his (even if I am aground). 

Sadler’s weekend was a washout – my weekend was a total success.

Total miles = 487.6

Boat miles = 44.2

Boat fuel = 5.1

Engine hours = 4.1

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Port Everglades 2/4-8/00

Ever since I first got my drivers license, I’ve enjoyed spending time on the road. At that time I lived in Chicago. I’d drive 800+ miles to New York to see the Statue of Liberty on a 3 day weekend. I’d never even get out of the car, just wave at the majestic lady, do a 180, and head back. On several occasions I did the West Coast using only 5 vacation days – leaving Friday after work, returning late Sunday night. I’d volunteer to take a couple months off during slow times for a Florida vacation, with the agreement that I’d return and work the weekends if they needed me; and they usually did.

My wife and I lived aboard a sailboat for 3 years in the 70’s. Traveling on the water was just as satisfying as being on the road, maybe more so. We sold the sailboat in the early 80’s shortly after the birth of our daughter and a commitment to land based living. Spoiled by the comforts of a home, our next boat was a 35’ trawler. The trawler indeed offered all the comforts of home but it didn’t provide much traveling satisfaction; it was moored 350 miles from home and couldn’t be used for weekend cruising, not to mention a relatively limited cruising range for even a week aboard. The trawler experience lasted a little over a year. We went boatless for 3 years after we sold her. There were many road trips by car during those 3 years, but the void of not having a boat grew and grew.

I had time to contemplate the perfect boat after selling the trawler. I dreamed of something the family could spend a week at a time aboard. The wish list included a place for two (and occasionally 3) to sleep aboard, a toilet, a fresh water tank, a stove, a provision to be out of inclimate weather while steering, and it had to be easily managed. I ended up with a 15’11” outboard powered cuddy. It will allow all of my 6’ to sleep horizontally, in a straight line, with enough room for my wife beside me. The boat is equipped with a porta-potty, 14 gallon water tank, a single burner propane camping stove and canvas to totally enclose the helm. I also opted for the camper back, which encloses the entire cockpit, allowing a 3^rd crewmember to stay comfortable and dry while sleeping outside the cuddy. We call the boat “QT”.

My goal is to spend at least one night a month aboard with a couple weeklong trips a year. The last time out was when my wife and I spent a night on the water in early December to watch the Charleston SC boat parade and fireworks show. The rest of December and all of January slipped by without an outing; things were just too busy at work. QT sat patiently on her trailer, next to the house, waiting for her next adventure.

Finally, in early February, there was an opportunity to get away. I told my family that I would be heading south on February 4^th, and if they wanted to accompany me, they were welcome. My daughter had school and my wife had to work, so I planned to go alone – I’d be gone a week.

Nick’s Rule of Overnighting states that if the temperature will get below 40 degrees, head farther south to launch. I decided to play the best odds and head for Fort Lauderdale/Miami. I slept aboard in the parking lot of the Florida Welcome Center on Friday night. Saturday night was spent aboard, in the water, in Manatee Pocket near Stuart. The Pocket is a neat place. There’s an excellent ramp, the surrounding area is varied and interesting, and there was a chance that some fellow boaters might still be hanging out there. A circumnavigation of the Pocket, several attempts on the VHF and a cursory check of the area by car didn’t turn them up, but I did have a very pleasant time in the area. I cruised around to Stuart, as far as the Roosevelt Bridge anchorage, (I can clear the RR Bridge even when it is down), on the return I poked my bow out the St Lucie inlet, then meandered south down the ICW. It was so peaceful in the No Wake Manatee Zone that I dropped the hook for an afternoon nap. I was awakened by a passing Sea Tow rescue boat who hailed me to see if I needed assistance – I didn’t mind being disturbed, but maybe what I need is a flag I can hoist that alerts passers by of “Crew Napping”.

I eventually returned to the area near the ramp, put the boat in about 5 feet of water and dropped the hook for the night. It was cold, so I put up the top, side curtains and back curtain. This canvas closes off the cockpit from the windscreen to just behind the seats. The camper back would have been nice, but it’s larger and hard to repack so I don’t usually mess with it unless there’s 3 of us aboard for the night.

Secure inside, but a little cold, I fired up the single burner camping stove for a cup of hot chocolate. Mmmmmm, did it ever hit the spot. I left the fire going for awhile as I sat there taking in the surroundings. Occasionally, boats would pass by going up into the pocket and without exception, they would slow to a real no wake. I watched as a few boats were launched, and as several returned to be brought landside. Pelicans, expecting handouts, welcomed every boat that approached the ramp. A couple of fellows executed several throws of a cast net off the dock…I could see them bending over to examine their catch by the light at the end of the ramp. I finally turned in, climbing into the cuddy and my cozy sleeping bag. A chilly shoulder alerted me a couple times in the night that the sleeping bag was not keeping me completely covered.

I was up before sunrise, had the boat on the trailer, and was making my way to I95 well before dawn. There was a Cracker Barrel at the I95 interchange that wouldn’t let me past without having breakfast; I succumbed to a delicious omelet and a bottomless cup of coffee before getting on I95 south.

The next stop was the ramp at Lauderdale. I had been to John U Lloyd State Park, just south of Port Everglades Inlet, on a previous trip. It’s a couple bucks to get into the park, but there’s a very nice ramp, plenty of parking and the location is ideal. I put everything aboard I’d need for the next couple days, put the boat in the water, parked the truck/trailer out of the way, called the wife to check in/out and was on my way north up the ICW by about 9:30 am.

While living aboard the sailboat those 3 years, my wife and I spent the first winter in the Keys, the second in the Bahamas and the third winter we were in the Caribbean. We liked the Bahamas best, often dreaming about spending more time there without having to worry about draft, or the need to plan so far ahead because the boat could only make 5 knots. It would be great to be able to poke around the Bahamas in QT. However, crossing the Gulf Stream in a 16’ boat requires much consideration, caution, and preparation. But here I was, in Florida, at the Port Everglades Inlet knowing that if the opportunity presented itself, I would make a day trip to Bimini, or Cat Cay. With that in mind, I headed out into the Big Puddle.

The plan this time, as before, was to head east out the inlet, following a Bimini “goto” on the GPS. After an hour and a half, I would make for the nearest land. On a good day, in a well mannered Gulf Stream, 90 minutes at a very comfortable 22 mph would put me 33 miles off shore, substantially closer to Bimini than Ft Lauderdale.

My wife Suzy asked me before I left, “What circumstances I would have to experience in order to make the commitment to cross the Gulf Stream?”

I told her I’d just know if it was right, but she wanted something more concrete. I offered that the forecast would have to call for improving weather for at least 36 hours, and the current conditions would have to be conducive enough to favor Bimini using my hour and a half rule. Suzy knows the boat has positive floatation, I always wear my life jacket when heading offshore, and that in addition to the cell phone and fixed GPS and VHF, I carry a handheld GPS, and a handheld VHF. I also keep my Coast Guard safety equipment current and I have a sea anchor aboard. She also took comfort knowing that I had contacted Tow Boat/US in Ft Lauderdale and would file a Float Plan with them before committing. 

I can listen to the VHF weather for 15 minutes and if I don’t write down what is said, I won’t have a clue what the weather will be when I turn it off. I do remember trends though, and having listened to the forecast many times as I was driving from The Pocket and again as I made my way out the inlet, I knew the forecast was for improving weather…I guess I ought to note the forecast in the log book (next time I will make a point of it). Looking back I think the wind was 10-15 mph and fading out of the NE, with the forecast for it to eventually swing to the West at 5, before calming all together. The Gulf Stream was 8 feet, but would be diminishing over the next two days. I know the Gulf Stream can sometimes get calmer at night, and I would have considered coming back in the dark if necessary.

In spending over 1,000 days/nights aboard the sailboat, I grew to have a sense about venturing offshore. I had a feeling by the time I entered the jetties that I wouldn’t see Bimini on this run, but continued out anyway. If nothing else, it would be an excellent opportunity to ‘play’ some in the Gulf Stream…to learn a little more about my Arima without putting myself in appreciable danger.

Someone asked me once, “How do you know when the seas are too big, or the weather is too bad?” I suppose everyone has their own answer to that question, but to me, you are in trouble when your boat does not act predictably. This means that if you know how she will act under given conditions and can compensate if necessary, in a predictable manner, you are not in over your head (so to speak). Of course there will come a point where you can no longer predictably compensate, but hopefully by intelligently testing the waters, you will know where/when that point is and avoid it, at least until you have an opportunity to find a way to manage it.

After about an hour, I was 10+ miles offshore…I drifted with the engine off for about 20 minutes. I started the engine and let it idle in gear while I took the seas on the bow, stern and all points between. I did it again at 5 mph, again at 10 mph, again 15 mph, again at 20 mph = WOT in those conditions. This was the first time I had ever experienced the motor race from the prop being out of the water but the boat never gave me cause for concern. In fact, she reminded me of a porpoise moving playfully through the swells. I learned that while I wouldn’t normally expect to do any boating in this type of sea, there was certainly no reason to believe there would be any concern if I had to be out in it. I was convinced that I could have made Bimini, it just would have taken a whole lot longer.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting that next time the forecast is for 8’ that I will just allow more time. I’ve been in the Stream often enough to know it doesn’t listen to the forecasts…you can’t really know what it’s going to be like out there, and that what the Gulf Stream is dishing up today at 8’ could be quite different from the next 8’ encounter. No ‘etched in stone’ judgements could be made from this experience, it was simply an observation/experiment that was to be incorporated in my big picture of boating.

On the trip back in, I started a run north up the shore when I got close enough to make out people on the Ft Lauderdale Beach, but decided I’d rather spend the time in more protected waters on the Dania Cutoff or the New River. I might even venture north up the ICW for a spell. And who knows, maybe tomorrow the Gulf Stream would quiet down some and I could give it another shot.

The 17^th Street Bridge had just opened so the waters on both sides were a maelstrom of floating real estate of all shapes and sizes. I hung back and waited for the mess to clear. My boat felt very sluggish as I slogged through the current under the bridge. The steep rollers funneling between the bridge fenders kept the bow up and the stern dug in, even at full throttle. The boat behaved as if there were more current than seemed apparent.

I cut across the ICW and tied up at the small boat dock of the marina. A bag of ice and maybe I’d pick up a beer to have with dinner on the hook. As I stepped out of the boat onto the dock, I noticed the bilge pump discharge. This was uncharacteristic. Maybe a cooler had overturned. I got back aboard and checked - nope, both coolers were in good shape. The discharge quit but it bothered me because it’s very rare for enough water to make its way aboard to activate the bilge pump. The only time I’d known that to happen was during a heavy rain.

As I stepped on the dock a second time, the pump came on again. The water tank…a line must have come off the water tank and it’s draining into the bilge. I tasted the discharge water - it was salty. What the heck could the problem be?

There’s a lagoon behind the ramp at John U Lloyd. I made my way to the lagoon and beached the boat. As much of the hull as I could see looked great while I was standing in the water, but the pump came on again. I took QT over to the ramp. As I waited in line for my turn to get out of the water, the pump came on several times. Finally I got QT back on her trailer.

There was no doubt the boating part of my vacation was over as I got a good look at the hull once out of the water. There was a 4” fracture at the starboard bow, just below the waterline. Several months back, a repair had been made by a boatyard to an impact point at that spot, and the repair had let loose. I considered patching the area with underwater epoxy that I carry aboard, but decided it best to contact the folks at Arima to see what they recommended to keep this from happening again.

I headed home via Savannah and Beaufort NC - even if I couldn’t spend any more time IN the water, at least I could spend some time NEAR the water.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC

Car miles = 2040

Boat miles = 63.7

Boat fuel = 10.1 gallons

Engine hours = 7.0

Boating Mentor

My wife said I should be ashamed. I’d brought 4 boats together for this outing, one of the fellows was on his first salt water cruise with his wife and daughter. There he was, 20 feet up on the beach; he and his family spent the night there, high and dry. With a few words of wisdom, I could have prevented the ‘grounding’…why hadn’t I spoken up?

The previous afternoon, at about ½ way down on a falling tide, our four boats had bumped their bows on the beach at in a cove off the old Folly Light house so we all could wiggle our toes in the clean, warm sand. As I jumped off the bow onto the beach I was asked what would happen as the tide waned. I said, “Worst case, you’ll go dry when the tide runs out from under you, and you’ll have to wait 4 hrs or so for the water to come back up.” No bigee, they decided and headed off to explore the beach and lighthouse.

After the expedition on the beach, one of the boats went back to the Folly ramp to spend the night ashore. The rest of us decided to stay the night where we were. I backed off the beach a hundred feet or so and dropped the hook. Each of the remaining two boats had 4 year olds aboard and decided to stay beached to facilitate activities.

The boat that went back to the ramp is a Seaswirl 1851, like mine, only a year younger. Tris, her captain and co-worker of mine, had been rejuvenating an old Renken when he got a glimpse of my rig.  I offered Tris a chance to go out on the water with me -- I needed to make a return trip to the dealer who sold me my Seaswirl, Nicky; I was having a factory fresh 16’ Arima Sea Explorer delivered to East Columbia Sport Shop. I’d take Nicky with me when I went down to pick up the new Arima, Tris would drive too, and he could pull the Arima back after we spent some time on Nicky cruising nearby Lake Murray. It wasn’t long after our cruise that Tris was talking with ECSS, eventually buying his boat there.

Why was I picking up a brand new boat when I’d just bought one? Arima (in Seattle WA) was building me a brand new boat due to a hull problem, but the replacement would not be available until late summer. Rather than lose a season on the water, I bought a new boat – 2000 Seaswirl 1850 W/A (Striper) pushed by a 115 Evinrude Ficht . I’d sell the new Arima after it arrived, in the meantime I wouldn’t lose any time on the water.

That new Arima was now up on the beach. I’d sold it to my boss Carl, an avid canoe/kayaker who was looking for something a little more accommodating so he could get out on the water with his family. Carl, his wife Susan and their 4 year old daughter Nikki seemed none the worse for wear considering having spent the night on the hard, and the boat showed no adverse signs from the beaching. Our activities that day were dictated by the need to wait for the high tide, but instead of complaining about the inconvenience, we used that time for beach/swimming activities and socializing.

Sadler, Beth and 4 year old Charlotte on the fourth boat, Wild Things, had stayed at the beach until the wee hours of the morning when the rising tide would every once in a while, pick WT up and set her down with a thud. Sadler decided rather than endure the discomfort, he’d push off and drop a hook.

Sadler and I have been compadres for many years, having the common bond of being home schooling dads of the Carolina Superschoolers group . We got together regularly for/at Home Schooling functions. I’d re-introduced Sad to boating early in our relationship when we spent a winter morning shoveling snow off the deck of my (old) 35’ trawler in preparation for a winter weekend aboard.  He taught me a trick that morning – snow soaked boat shoes can be warmed up in the microwave! We’d gone out several times since then together too, on the old Arima; to see a shuttle go up at Titusville, take in an airshow at Pensacola and on a cruise from Beaufort NC to Ocracoke. Sad finally got the fever and bought a 29’ Searay Sundancer he’d found on the internet. I helped him bring his ‘new to him’ boat home from St Mary’s FL to Charleston SC.

The Home Schooling generation that brought Sadler and me together has or is about to graduate college, but a new generation of home schoolers including Nikki and

Charlotte has created a bond between those two families. So it wasn’t surprising that while I was on vacation I received an email from Sadler (on my cell phone). It seems that he and Carl and Tris were at it again in Charleston. This time Carl lost an anchor because the end of the rode slipped thru his fingers while he was jockeying for position, and Carl’s battery didn’t have enough life to get his motor started after spending an anchorless night rafted to WT.  When my wife Suzy heard this, she said, “Pooor Carl!”

It might have been an experience on my vacation that inspired the insight into my attitude as mentor to less experienced boaters. We were at Hall’s Harbor in Nova Scotia. The tide there has to be over 30 feet. All the boats in the harbor spend many hours a day sitting on the bottom. Are we concerned for the boaters there? Not in the least. The boaters of Hall’s Harbor are fortunate to have a place to keep their boats, and consider this just another aspect of boating. It got me thinking…

A boat is an emotional amplifier. It makes the good times better – it makes the bad times worse. The boat is a vehicle of heightened experience. When I’m in a position to be a boating mentor, my place is not to decide which experiences should be ‘allowed’, or to inhibit or limit any experiences of new boaters. Experiences are WHY we go boating. My chosen directive is to prevent physical harm. Watching the end of the anchor rode disappear into the depths, or having to deal with a dead battery, or spending the night aboard with no water under your keel are not to be avoided, they’re to be savored  -each of these situations can and will provide an unexpected opportunity to enjoy a new aspect of boating. Running an inlet with a loose anchor and rode on the bow, or lighting up an inboard without ventilating the bilge are a different story.

“But a word of caution could have spared the expense of a tow, or the cost of buying a new anchor…?” If the avoidance of spending is a valid argument, the best advice I could give anyone interested in boating is “Don’t!” If you can’t enjoy spending money for/on the boat, don’t have one, because you’re going to spend money, more than you know.”

But a work of caution could have kept a fellow boater from feeling like a idiot? A person is only as much of an idiot as he allows himself to be. Do you think I never experienced a hard grounding – yes the first time as uncomfortable, the second was intentional, the third and forth and fifth and sixth I can’t remember, but I do remember the last time…I hit a shallow spot at 20 mph and came to a stop in 4” of water. When it became apparent I was stranded, I decide it was a good time for a nap. Did I ever find myself out in the middle of the lake with water rising in the cockpit because I’d forgotten the plug? Did I ever get tangled up at the ramp because I forgot to take the tiedown straps off the transom and backed the car so far into the water that the boat and trailer floated up and over into the guy next to me? I’d be happy to admit I’d lost an anchor, if I had…the thing is I’ve lost several. Have I ever been ashore watching my 35’ trawler merrily making it’s way downstream through a crowded anchorage after a tide change? Do I avoid boating because I’m afraid you’ll think I’m an odiot? Know what? I’m out there boating because I want to be out there boating, and I don’t care what you think. And going one step farther, I think you’ll find that anytime you find yourself in an uncomfortable boating situation, the first thing another boater will do is to explain how the same thing has happened to him. The water somehow breeds compassion. The real idiots are those who don’t get out on the water.

I would offer a little unsolicited advice about boating with family. Unless your boat is air conditioned, has a refrigerator, stove and toilet, do not use it as a destination for family outings. Without these conveniences aboard, a land based destination is a must; the boat can be a part of family activities without these amenities, but even then, only if conditions permit, and then only if there is an accompanying land base.

Another bit of unsolicited advice – it’s never, never, never a good idea to bring children aboard when any new boating experiences are apt to be encountered. You need to know everything about your boat and the area you are cruising before you bring a child aboard a recreational boat – if this means you’ve got to take your boat out alone, or with a buddy, time and time again until you have eliminated all potential surprises, well, so be it.

Bottom line…if your life is one bad day after another, stay away from boating. On the other hand, if you love life, a boat is the best way I know to hear yourself say things like,

“It doesn’t get any better than this.”

“It was the first time I ever…” or “Never before have I…”

“What a glorious sunset!”

“Food never tasted so good.”

“Ahhh, Fresh Clean Air!”

“That gentle motion is so soothing.”

“The water is such a deeeeeep blue.”

“I’ve never seen so many birds.”

And if we’re boating together, expect me to allow you to experience all that is there, and to show you why all of it is good, because that’s why I’m on the water.

Nick in Spartanburg, SC  6/5/02