A Quiet Inlet

We won’t live on a sailboat forever. Oh, there are many folks who continue to live on their sailboats that are much older than we are. But 4 ½ years ago when we moved aboard, we said that it would be for 2 to 10 years, “as long as we’re enjoying it."

Well, it is beginning to feel like we are on the backside of that mountain with regard to our live-aboard years. We talk about living on land again from time to time. We try to figure out what we will do next. How fortunate we are to have the luxury of thinking about it for a while.

Today we are alone, resting in the Winyah Bay, just off the Atlantic. We’ve seen a few fishing boats across the inlet, but other than that, it’s very quiet here. Just nature and us. Earlier today, we watched a pod of dolphins, through our binoculars, as they were some distance away.  


There were at least 6 of them that we could see based upon the number of fins that broke the surface in various locations. They were swimming slowly round and round in a long loop. Gathering their dinner we figured. Occasionally, we saw one big splash and sometimes a small bit of some thing come flying out of the water and land back in again.  Part of a fish, no doubt. The rest of the fish would have been in a dolphin’s mouth, I’m sure.

It made me wonder about the things that I might miss the most when we no longer live on the water. I think it will be things like those dolphins over there, catching their dinner. They weren’t put there for our entertainment. We didn’t pay anything to see them. The dolphins couldn't care less that there were two people watching them. There are lots of other things just like that, too, that I think I will miss the most.

It probably won’t be the many islands we’ve visited or the U.S. cities we’ve visited, like St. Augustine, Florida and Savannah, Georgia or Charleston, South Carolina. It won’t be sailing through New York City, although that was very cool. I don’t think it’ll be going to Plymouth, Massachusetts or Newport, Rhode Island or Bar Harbor, Maine.  

I guess the reason that I think it won’t be those things is that a person could get on an airplane, or drive a car to go see those places.  When we arrived there, we and every other tourist was interested in seeing the same things—historical sites and local foods and art. And we enjoyed them thoroughly.

But the part that only we will see, we and about a few thousand other cruisers that travel by boat, is all the wonderful stuff that wasn’t planned or expected.  After we live on land again, we will most likely never see dolphins in a quiet inlet, corralling their dinner together. Why? Because at this time, we are living on a boat at anchor in that inlet and we have all day to sit here for whatever happens next.

We will never have the good fortune to be escorted across the Bahama Bank by a group of dolphins that take turns at our bow. When the lead dolphin peels off another immediately takes his place as the lead. As if they are playing with us and saying, “come this way.” Oh, and the hundreds of dolphins that we met one day, all day on the Atlantic—we were sailing south off the New Jersey coast and the dolphins were all headed north to the fall hunting grounds.

There are incredibly beautiful places along the waterways: the rivers and ICW, bays, and oceans, as well as in natural harbors that only people on boats will ever see. We will likely never see these kinds of places again.  When we live on land, we will never see phosphorescence on the ocean in the night. Thousands of little sparkles on the water alongside the hull as it moves through the water.  Fireflies of the ocean. Carl has explained to me that they are actually plankton emitting light when the water is disturbed. An amazing phenomenon, I think.

We will never hear snapping shrimp on the other side of the hull, sounding for all the world like popcorn popping. We will probably never go out in a dinghy in the nighttime and see little flying fish jump out of the water across our path by the light of our headlamps.  

I am quite certain we will never again be surrounded by thousands and thousands of flying fish all going in the same direction that we were, off the island of St. Lucia.  Northern Star flying along under full sail, and the flying fish flying with us, probably being hunted by bigger fish.

We will never again watch a circus while sitting in our dinghy being performed across a stage of three connected sailboats, using the rigging for aerial acrobatics, as we did on the island of Martinique. Never again be rocked asleep to the sound of island music in the distance.  Nor are we likely to ever wander over to an uninhabited island and go exploring by ourselves.

It is unlikely that we will spend days and evenings anchored in quiet places like this one, miles from any other person, surrounded by marshland, open water and birds of all kinds. Terns that dive headfirst into the water from great heights. 

Pelicans who do the same, but without as much grace. Herons and egrets that can stand in the marsh and yet still be above it on their pencil-thin legs.  Flamingoes that look like pink flying sticks. Sea birds that fly in synchronous patterns evenly spaced—when their backs are to us, they make a herringbone pattern; when as one, they turn their chests to us, the pattern is like black and white lace.  

And of course, the Magnificent Frigate birds whose mating ritual is a soaring and swooping dance so beautiful that it took my breath away.  Oh, to see love expressed in such elegance! Or lust. It’s possible to see Frigate Birds on land, too but rather unlikely to see the dance in the sky.

And oh my, I have fallen in love with snorkeling. I guess I could go on snorkeling vacations again when I live on land, but it won’t be anything like jumping off the back of the boat and seeing incredible creatures right there, beside our home.  There are so many things that live in the water that I had no idea existed.

Seventy one percent of the earth is covered with water, and we have seen only a tiny bit of it.  I guess it will have to do, won’t it.

Best Kept Secrets of the ICW Day #33

posted by Ardys

Bridge in Daytona Beach

Okay, these aren’t really secrets, per se, but before starting down the ICW (Intracoastal Waterway) I didn’t hear about them.  Only one person in Annapolis told us that the ICW was a very special place and that it would be well worth staying inside to go south.  “Inside” refers to the ICW, inside the barrier islands which separate the mainland from the ocean.  “Outside” of course, means out on the ocean.  Outside can be faster if the weather is good for crossings. The weather rarely was right for us when we were at a convenient inlet to exit the ICW, and so we continued on.  Maybe on a future trip south, we’ll bring additional crew with us and go on the outside ALL the way to the Caribbean.  On this journey south, however, we’ve only gone outside twice, on overnight ocean passages of 70 to 80 miles each.

Surprising find--free dock available

We are nearing the end of our journey for 2015. Tomorrow we will arrive in Titusville, across from Cape Canaveral, on Day #34 of the ICW.  We will leave our boat there for a month while we visit family and friends over the holidays. Covering only 30 to 50 miles/day usually and resting for a day or two here and there, has made this a long trip. I wouldn’t have wanted to do it any faster, at least not on the ICW.  I want to tell people why I will NEVER again refer to the ICW as the “Ditch.” 

Sunset north of Cumberland Island 

Fabulous sunrises and sunsets at quiet anchorages.  Not every single day (we did have rain a few times) but there are few sights as utterly dramatic and yet unique as the rise and fall of the sun. Quiet descends upon the anchorage and we hear the sounds of the water and whatever critters are out and about calling to each other, or feeding, or whatever they do in the dark.  With a moon shining on the water, we can see surprisingly well, even after full night.  

Fernandina Beach dressed for Christmas

 Charming towns that I would never have known existed, if I were not traveling down the ICW.  Fernandina Beach in Florida is a bit like stepping back in time.  Like many of these small towns on the water, it tends to be populated by the artistic sort of folks who bring their eye for beauty to the place, and maintain the historic houses, storefronts and museums for us travelers to ogle.  There are so many of these little towns on my list to visit next time going north or south.  And I’m shamelessly plugging a little family owned restaurant, Pablo’s.  I was served the best margarita I ever had in that restaurant; and the food was beautifully presented and delicious too, and very reasonably priced!

Best margarita EVER at Pablo's

Marinas that provide a great value for the money.  There are marinas that are absolutely beautiful with long, wide docks, resort-like qualities such as pools, fitness centers, much like you’d find at a 4 star hotel.  As you might imagine, the “resort marina” is the most expensive way to go down the ICW.  All marinas charge by the foot (boat length) so with our 43’ boat, this adds expense quickly.  We stay at a marina occasionally, when we need to get groceries, do laundry and get a pump-out.  On the opposite end of the marina spectrum are marinas which have old docks and few, if any amenities.  Perhaps you’d compare that sort of marina to a budget motel.  Most marinas fall somewhere in between the resort and the budget marina and generally, you get what you pay for.  We found our favorite marina ever yesterday at Marineland Marina north of St. Augustine.   Relatively inexpensive, very attractive, wonderfully helpful dock staff, dog friendly, and located a very short walk from the ocean.  We will definitely return there.

Jax enjoyed the beach

The ICW has made me into a birder!  We brought a bird book with us onto the boat and a pair of birding* binoculars but I thought we would only occasionally use them.  Hah! I can now identify at least 20 new birds, even in flight.  I can distinguish between dabbling and diving ducks although I haven’t had as much luck with nailing specific species.  I was already familiar with the cormorants, eagles and loons because we have those in Minnesota.  I started studying the huge pelicans and then thought that I may as well learn how to identify several egrets and herons too.  One thing led to another and now I’m hooked. The ICW is a virtual parade of birds all day long!

Beach at Marineland 

In fact, going south on the inside is a lot like a parade:  waterfront historic towns and cities, luxurious homes and folksy little houses in the wilderness, plants and trees, beautiful bridges and other unique structures, not to mention all the other boats. I can’t wait to tell the man who told us the ICW would be special, how right he was.  

Great Egret - note: yellow beak, black legs

*We carry two pair of 7 X 50 marine binoculars with internal compasses. A stronger magnification would be too unstable for a moving vessel.  Birding binoculars can be much more powerful. 

Jax Figures IT Out - ICW Day #28

posted by Ardys

Before we left

Shore at Beaufort, S.C. The grasses at half tide.

Annapolis, most of our fellow southbound travelers told us that they were going to go down the ICW until Charleston or thereabouts, but certainly would not be continuing on the ICW into Georgia or Florida.  We heard, “Too shallow, too many bridges to get under, too hard.”  When you 

Darker green indicates where high tide was.

hear something enough times, you start to accept it as fact.  The other thing we heard a few times was, “I don’t think you (NORTHERN STAR) can do the ICW, referencing the height of our mast (63 1/2’) and our draft (6 1/2 ‘).  The usual fixed bridge height is 65’.  At high tide, there may be less room than that to get under.  Some parts of the ICW are notorious for shoaling and cannot be traversed at low tide.  Yup, we were pretty sure we were going to have to go offshore from Charleston and on.

Cruising Guide for the ICW

Then, we happened upon some fellow southbound travelers with a 6’ draft sailboat, Radio Waves.   They were planning to continue on the ICW and this made us reconsider our options.  Waiting for the right weather window for ocean passages is rather unpredictable.  And we are counting the number of days available to get from here to a safe place in Florida to leave our boat for a month while we visit family and friends in Tennessee and Minnesota around the holidays.  So we have ventured forward on the ICW following our new friends on Radio Waves.  We study the charts every night, noting the mile markers where there are bridges and where shoaling is a problem.  We have made good use of the Cruising Guide for the Intracoastal Waterway by Captains Mark and Diana Doyle.  

Garmin, Navionics and Active Captain, all on iPad

Those five manuals provide us with minute detail about the ICW mile by mile, describing anchorages, marinas and “trouble spots.”  We also are relying heavily upon the information we pull from our app, Active Captain, which is integrated with our Garmin charts.  Carl can see all comments from other boaters on his iPad and I can see all the same information on my iPhone 6+.  VERY handy.  We also have Navionics charts on the iPad and both Garmin and Navonics have the latest tide and current projections for various locations. When he’s driving the boat, I review the trouble spots and direct him on whether to hug the Green or the Red Marks, and so forth.  When I’m driving, he does the same for me. 

Birds' eye view of South Carolina ICW.  Lots of twists and turns.

Our review of the information available to us helps us decide what time we should get going in the morning so as to take advantage of tides.  Again I’ll say it—I continue to be astonished by the tides which are different every day, and different from one place to another.  I suppose that if you’ve grown up near tidal waters, your response to that might be, “Well, yeah—Duh!”.  For example, today, at Statute Mile (STM) 666, we pulled up anchor in Wally’s Leg (it’s a creek—I don’t name these anchorages, you know) rather late today (noon) because low tide was going to be at 12:12 PM where we were headed.  High tide would be at 5:17 PM.  We needed at least half tide to get through an area of shoaling in Jekyll Creek, at STM 680.  So, here’s the Math equation: If a sailboat leaves Wally’s Leg at 12:00 and needs at least half tide to get through an area of shoaling at 3:00 PM, how fast should the sailboat be motoring?  Answer:  No more than 4-5 knots/hr (or about 5 mph) Perfect.  We did just that.  We did run aground briefly but Carl was able to gun the engine and get us off again.  No big deal.  

American White Pelicans mixed with smaller Brown Pelicans

photo courtesy of Peterson Field Guide to Birds 

We have found some beautiful anchorages along the way.  The variety of birds is increasing and I am studying my Peterson Field Guide to Birds more and more.  We have seen large groups of huge American White Pelicans on sandy shores, a few Great White Egrets, lots of Terns bomb-diving the water for food, flocks of Brown Pelicans (much smaller than White), Great Blue Herons, Little Blue Herons, Cattle Egrets (which always look to me as if they are skulking—they would be the Mafia of the bird world) and today I 

Dolphins in the Brickhill River, in our anchorage

saw what I believe was a Tricolored Heron.  I described it as I was looking at it through binoculars and later went to find it in my book.  There was the bird I had just described.  Carl thinks I should not call that a confirmed sighting because Tricolored Herons are uncommon, but then what do I call the bird I saw?  Even a novice birder can see an uncommon bird once in a while, right?

Jax is curious about dolphins

Tonights anchorage is wonderfully quiet.  There is little wind and so we can hear all kinds of squawking bird calls all around us.  Kind of like a jungle.  The dolphins have been swimming in small groups of 2 or 3 on all sides around us.  Sometimes I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them expel steam from their blowholes.  Jax is enthralled.

Almost forgot—you’re wondering what Jax has figured out?  Yesterday morning, he did his business on the bow of our boat—49 hours after his last BM.  My husband was right—he did NOT explode.  And now, Jax uses his self-assigned “head” whenever he needs to empty his bowels.  Whew—what a relief for the humans onboard.  And for Jax, no doubt.