Changing engine mounts on our Northern Lights generator

We're anchored in Palm Beach, where we'll be for the next two weeks at least, and I am using the downtime to get some projects done around the boat. Today's project was to replace the two engine-end mounts on our Northern Lights 16kW generator, model M844K.3, and I thought I would write it up here in case anyone in the same situation finds it useful. This post will concern nothing else, so if you are not interested in generator maintenance, feel free to skip it. I will return to our regular travelogue, including the details of what we are doing here, in the next post.

If you arrived here from a link on a forum or social media site, or via an Internet search, welcome. To answer the inevitable questions about what kind of boat this is in, you can find the details of our boat at this link. We've lived on the boat full time for a little over a decade now, and we spend a majority of our time at anchor or at free docks without power. The generator sees a lot of use, averaging about two hours a day when we are not under way or connected to shore power, and now has over 6,200 hours on it, about 5,100 of that during our ownership. It was installed when the boat was first built, back in 2002.

Bad mounts removed. You can see where the engine brackets have sunk into the rubber.

Apart from regular oil, filter, and impeller changes, and the occasional valve adjustment, major maintenance I have done has included rebuilding the injector pump twice -- they seem to go around 2,500 hours before they start leaking, so rebuild number three is on the horizon -- rebuilding the seawater pump, and replacing the coolant pump. I'm currently wrestling with a minor fuel leak in the return line at the injector pump, so you will see some fuel staining in the photos.

What the front mount looked like before I started. The engine bracket is sinking through the rubber.

Recently we've been noticing a lot more rattling around the boat when the generator is running, and when I could not find a specific source I decided it's time to tackle a long-overdue project that I have been putting off for way too long, namely, replacing the engine mounts. I've been watching the engine brackets slowly sinking into the rubber mounts for at least a year now, and while that may not be the entire cause of the rattle, it's certainly not helping anything.

There are four mounts for the entire generator set; two are at the engine end, and two at the generator head end. The two at the generator end appeared to be in decent shape, while the two at the engine end were completely deteriorated. In part that is due to exposure to engine fluids, but it may also be due to more vibration and more weight at that end. I elected to just replace the two engine-end mounts at this time, reserving the generator end for a future date if needed.

Exploded view from the parts book. Lower left are the relevant parts. Copyright: Alaska Diesel Electric

My parts book shows several different part numbers for the mounts. I first had to find the page for my specific generator head, which is a PX-316K, and then find the engine end of the frame on the drawing. The call-out (#5) for those mounts showed different part numbers depending on whether or not a PTO is fitted. Ours does not have a PTO, and the correct part is a 220-lb Parker-Lord "Plateform" mount. I was able to find the Parker-Lord part number, 283P-220, but this is an industrial specialty item with only perhaps three distributors nationwide. Fortunately, the local Northern Lights dealer, a short $2 bus ride away in Riviera Beach, had them in stock for a fair price of $88 each.

Brand new mount in hand, with close-up of the manufacturer part number.

With two fresh plateform mounts in hand I started noodling on how to unload ~440 pounds from the existing mounts in order to make the swap. I spent some time on the phone with my go-to guy at Northern Lights, eastern region service manager Joe Maas, who is a wealth of information and has saved my bacon more than once, mostly regarding our Lugger propulsion engine. The call was about the fuel leak, but as long as I had him on the phone I got his advice on removing the mounts; he shared that he's used everything from crowbars to bottle jacks, which gave me some confidence I was unlikely to hurt anything.

It's cramped in our enclosure, but the boat builder left a pair of skyhooks in place directly above the factory lift points on the generator set. I don't know if they had incredible foresight regarding future maintenance, or if they were just leftover from the original installation, but I was glad they were there and decided to use the one above the engine for the purpose. They had even left bow shackles on both strong points. My first attempt involved hanging our Warn half-ton portable winch from the shackle, but the winch turned out to be too long, hook to hook, to fit, with less than an inch of winch cable showing above the hook on the engine.

I considered jury-rigging different hardware on the winch to make it fit, but in the end decided to order a cheap quarter-ton manual chain hoist, sometimes called a "come-along," for overnight delivery from Amazon to a locker nearby. If I had more room I would have ordered a half-ton model instead, for a bit more safety margin, but the cramped quarters persuaded me to go with the smaller hoist.

550-lb chain hoist suspended from shackle on ceiling. The lift ring on the engine is obscured by the enclosure frame.

I was able to get just enough leverage on the hoist to lift the engine most of the way to where it would be on the new mounts. I had to lever the engine block up with my Gorilla bar to get the last click on the hoist ratchet. Then it was a "simple" matter of removing the four bolts holding each plateform mount to the frame, and the two bolts holding each L-bracket to the engine. The whole assembly of the plateform mount and L-bracket needs to be removed from the base frame in order to remove the through-bolt holding the mount to the L-bracket, as the bolt head is inaccessible with the base frame bolted down to the boat.

I put "simple" in quotes because, of course, it was a challenge. I started with the front mount, where I could see what I was doing; all the in-place photos are of this mount. The identical mount on the rear of the engine must be accessed from the end, since that side of the generator is against the wall and the back panel is fixed in place. If you look at the "before" photo you will see that the mount is so badly crushed that it is overhanging the four mounting bolts. I could not get a socket on six of the eight bolts no matter what I tried.

Here the weight is already being taken by the hoist, but the rubber is still so deformed I could not get a socket on the bolts.

The two front bolts I could remove with an open end wrench, and for the rest I needed to use a crow's foot. That was pretty straightforward on the front mount, but involved a lot of "boat yoga" and a handheld mirror on the rear. The bolts holding the L-brackets to the engine came off way easier than I expected, suggesting they were not properly torqued.

Bracket and mount removed.

Once I was able to pull each of the mounts out of the base plate -- I did the whole replacement in the front before I started on the back -- I discovered that the original installer had installed them upside-down. The bottom of the mount is flat and the top has what looks like a little volcano in the middle, and that volcano needs to point up. This most likely contributed to the mounts' early demise, and now that I know they did it wrong it looks like the two at the generator end are also upside-down. That might incent me to change them sooner rather than later, or maybe just flip them over. I also learned that snubbing washers, shown on the parts diagram on both sides of each mount, were omitted from the top side on all four mounts. I did not have these on hand so I had to put it all back together without them.

Here it is. This is actually the rear one, which better showed the "volcano" that is supposed to be on the top actually pointing down. That's the snubbing washer below it. The rubber from above the plate has extruded through, pushing part of the mount down at left in the photo.

Once I had each mount/bracket assembly in hand I was able to remove the through-bolt and nylock holding them together When I assembled the new mounts to the brackets I snugged up the nut but did not torque fully because there is a bit of play in the bracket hole, and the mount and bracket would likely need to move relative to each other at least a hair to get all the mounting bolts to line up. That involved levering the engine laterally relative to the base frame with the Gorilla bar while trying to start the threads with my free hand. It was a fiddly process but I eventually got them all in. With fresh mounts I was able to use a 13mm socket on the bolts holding the mounts to the base frame.

New mount, correctly assembled, pointy side up. The lone snubbing washer is on the flat bottom; this is a fail-safe, which keeps the generator from coming out of its frame altogether if the rubber fails.

The generator is now a lot quieter, and I'm wishing I had tackled this a bit sooner. If you have one of these sets, inspect your mounts. The specific plateform part numbers may be different, but the replacement process is the same on most Northern Lights generators up to 20kW.

New mount installed and in service.

Finally warming up

We are under way southbound in the Atlantic Ocean, offshore of Jupiter Island, Florida. Between a couple of really long days inland, and this unexpected short window offshore, we will be in West Palm Beach three days early for the orthopedic appointment I was able to make a short walk from the dinghy dock.

Wednesday morning we walked back to town to grab a couple of breakfast sandwich bagels at Serra Doce, which were decent. We dropped lines just before 10am to have enough tide out of the basin and time our arrival at the George Musson Bridge for the top-of-the-hour opening. A half hour after departing we had a decent, if distant, view of the Falcon-9 launch, delayed from the previous two days due to the same winds we had been battling. We had a better view than those closer to the cape, where it was overcast.

Sunset over our anchorage in Fort Pierce last night. That's Derecktor Shipyard center frame.

Shoaling at the Ponce junction had us try a new route this time, exiting the channel and skirting around the shoal to the north. That turns out to be a lot easier than trying to thread the needle in the cross-current and we are glad it was pioneered by others. We arrived at the Musson bridge just nine minutes early. Clearing the bridge at noon would make it a comfortable day all the way to Titusville.

We had plenty of water in the Mosquito Lagoon, but after passing through the Haulover Canal with over a knot of current behind us, we landed in a very shallow Indian River Lagoon. The persistent northerlies had piled water up at the south end of Mosquito but blown it all out of the Indian River, with Haulover unable to keep up with the filling. We made it through the skinny stuff at the north end of the lagoon with less than a foot under the keel.

Falcon-9 Starlink launch as seen from Daytona.

We pulled off-channel just south of the Titusville causeway on the west side, for northerly protection, finding a half dozen boats in this spot we usually have to ourselves. We hunted for a clear patch and dropped the hook (map). Things were not too bad north of the causeway, so we dropped the tender and headed to the courtesy dock at the Titusville Pier for dinner at Pier 220. The food here is surprisingly good for what amounts to a pierside tiki joint, and they have a nice selection of drafts, which the inside servers have to get from the outdoor bar.

With a short day to Indian Harbour Beach, we had a relaxed start in the morning, weighing around 9am, yet still we left ahead of our neighbors. We were tied up at the Eau Gallie Yacht Club (map) a little before 2pm, and I immediately hoofed it the mile and a quarter to Supercuts for a long-overdue haircut. From there I made my way to Publix for a few essentials, by way of a 15-minute neck massage at a local joint.

Vector at Titusville, more crowded than usual.

The clubhouse has reopened since our last visit, after extensive renovations, and we had dinner in their dining room for the first time in a couple of years. The building is quite nice and the food was good, but I think I prefer the more casual menu in the poolside bar. I was hoping to stay up to watch the launch, just 20 miles away, of Blue Origin's New Glenn rocket, but it was delayed due to sea conditions at the LZ. They are trying again tonight, but we're now a hundred miles away and it looks to be overcast.

Yesterday we dropped lines in time to make the 4:30pm bridge opening in Fort Pierce, normally a seven-hour trip. Between a south wind and adverse current our arrival kept getting later and later, and eventually I gave up and reduced speed for the 5pm instead. My alarm went off just before 10:30 for another Falcon-9 launch, but that got pushed back three times, eventually clearing the pad after 2pm. We again had a distant view under way. We noted several boats pull off channel to watch at the original time; they had a very long wait.

Another Starlink launch, this one astern.

We had hoped we could stop in Vero Beach, always a bit of a challenge for us, and connect with good friends Alyse and Chris, but our schedules did not align, which is why we had our sights set on Fort Pierce. Under way we learned that our friend Dave was actually en route to Fort Pierce himself, driving down from Wilmington by car. We concocted a hast plan to meet up at the courtesy dock at South Causeway Park and have dinner together someplace.

As we made the turn off the ICW toward the Fort Pierce Inlet, we could see the park dock was fenced off for repair. Dave was already nearly there, and we had to shift gears. We dropped the hook in our customary spot off the Coast Guard Station (map), amid a sea of boats seeking the same southerly protection, and tendered over to the boat ramp, where several already-moored dinghies suggested this was the temporary replacement for the park dock.

A nice and expensive motorsailer in her day, up against the Titusville Causeway with her mast on the ground.

Dave met us at the dock, where we had a bit of a climb to disembark the tender, and drove us over to Angelina’s Pizzeria e Ristorante, which none of us would ever have seen or found if I had not looked it up earlier while we were under way. It turned out to be quite good, with several beers on tap and lots of choices besides pizza, but the place was packed and the kitchen was a bit slow. The 2-for-1 happy hour drinks made up for that, and we were in no hurry since we were enjoying catching up. This was also the first evening in a long time where I did not wear my winter coat.

Louise has had her eyes on the offshore weather daily, looking for a window to maybe get us around the shoaling and construction at Jupiter Inlet. Yesterday it looked like the earliest window would be Monday, and so this morning we weighed anchor on the last of the flood to continue south on the ICW. We spent the next two hours discussing and debating the plan.

We forgot to snap a photo at dinner, so we had to settle for the boat ramp parking lot. Photo: Dave Rowe

Our options were to stop in Jensen Beach, taking our chances with the local constabulary regarding landing the dinghy at the boat ramp, or turn up the St. Lucie to Stuart for a couple of nights, adding 15 miles round trip and crossing a 7.5' bar in the river both ways, while we waited for the Monday window to leave via St. Lucie Inlet. Or just to continue south to Hobe Sound, forgoing the offshore option and waiting there for tide to cross the Jupiter shoaling.

Just as we were arriving to the first option in Jensen Beach, she checked the outside weather again and realized we could go today if we could still make it by daylight and we could confirm the forecast. A quick route calculation showed we'd be through the inlet before 5, and I radioed a sailboat making the transit offshore to ask about conditions. We could see a whole pack of them making the trek, likely from Fort Pierce, where we ourselves should have departed, in hindsight.

There was a good bit of swell just outside the St. Lucie jetties, and we bashed our way out, but things have been improving steadily since then. The gulf stream is close in here, and we are pushing against nearly a knot of current, but we should still make the anchorage in plenty of daylight. Tomorrow we will be in West Palm Beach, where the biggest challenge is always finding a spot in the crowded anchorage. I have no idea how long we'll be here; it all depends on what I learn at the doctor's on Wednesday.

Finally Florida, yet Fitfully Freezing

We are under way southbound on the ICW, between St. Augustine and Daytona, Florida. The weather station says it's just 43° here at 11am, and today's high is just 48° in St. Augustine. It will be slightly better in Daytona at 54°, but still too cold for our liking.

Fernandina Beach does a great job lighting the trees downtown.

Shortly after my last post we made St. Marys Inlet. The two sailboats that had left St. Simons a good bit ahead of us had to hover outside while a submarine from Kings Bay exited the inlet. By the time we arrived the sub was out near the sea buoy and we went right in. We were just a bit too early, arriving ahead of the turn of the tide, and we pushed uphill to the range lights before things slackened up. We had a fair tide for the last couple of miles to the anchorage.

This is a distant shot so you will just have to believe me when I tell you that it is a ballistic missile submarine followed by two sub tenders. Coast Guard escorts flank the photo.

We dropped the hook in one of our usual spots near the mooring field (map) in Fernandina Beach, and tendered ashore for dinner at old standby Arte Pizza. The special was a spicy meatball pizza involving home made meatballs and two kinds of hot peppers; it was delicious but plenty of draft beer was required to quench the fire. We took a little walk around the festively lit town after dinner.

Fernandina Beach and the holiday tree as seen from our anchorage.

Thursday morning we weighed anchor with the tide for the southward leg to the St. Johns River, still not sure which way we'd turn when we arrived. I reached out to our good friends Erin and Chris, who left their boat on the Ortega at the end of last season, to see if they were maybe back in town. In a stroke of incredible timing, they were driving south from Boston even as my text arrived, planning to be in Jacksonville Friday evening. That made the decision for us, and we turned upriver when we arrived at the St. Johns.

We had figured we'd run out of tide, and planned to anchor off the Palms Fish Camp across from Blount Island, a familiar stop for us. As luck would have it, we arrived at Blount Island just at the tail end of the flood, and were able to ride it all the way upriver to downtown Jacksonville. The downtown courtesy docks are still closed due to some major construction on the former site of Jacksonville Landing, so we proceeded through the railroad bridge to our usual anchorage and dropped the hook (map). Two boats were already there, including the sailboat that was there when we left in the spring.

We spotted this wild boar walking across the tidal flats at low tide this morning.

We splashed the tender and I headed ashore to scope things out and get a can of gas for the dinghy. I planned to do that from the Riverside courtesy dock, upriver of the I-95 bridge, but I found a fence across the gangway sporting a sign that the dock was closed, though I could see no obvious reason. That ruled out returning to go to the Five Points neighborhood for dinner.

Our downtown anchorage as seen from the river walk. Vector is at right, looking like a tiny cruise ship.

I ran back downriver to the new Southbank courtesy dock just downriver of the Main Street bridge, which also has access to a gas station. This dock is mostly used by the water taxi fleet, for both landing and storage, and only a small piece of the dock at each end is available for use. I was surprised to find the dock packed with people waiting for the water taxi, and when I got to the end of the gangway I found it blocked by a folding table with a woman collecting tickers. It turned out that the Gator Bowl was that evening, and the water taxis were running all evening to bring people to the game. I let the ticket-taker know my boat was on the dock and I would be passing her in the other direction.

Part of the river walk is closed where they removed a section of the pedestrian bridge over the tracks for nearby construction. Locks of love have already appeared on the fence.

After walking the Southbank neighborhood and fueling up the tender, I swung past the Brooklyn courtesy dock to make sure it was open. That's where we landed together a short while later, walking to Anejo Cucina for dinner. We kept missing this place for one reason or another since it opened, but the food turned out to be quite good and they had several drafts. We arrived just before sunset and there was nary a table where one of us would not be looking straight into it, but it was all over in a few minutes. Note to self: come after sunset, or on an overcast day.

The construction. It looks like they might be daylighting the creek.

Yet another cold snap was moving in, and I had made arrangements to move up to the Florida Yacht Club on Friday for a couple of nights, the first of which would be free with our reciprocal membership, so we could have some power and get the scooter on the ground for some errands. We planned on a leisurely morning at anchor, with a departure for the club, which has a shallow basin, for a high tide arrival.

That plan moved up a bit after morning coffee, when we discovered the head would not flush. That proved to be because the tank was full, even though we had emptied it at sea just two days earlier. I apparently neglected to close the discharge valve. That's normally not a problem, as both a check valve and the rubber pump impeller itself usually prevent any backflow, but in this case there was enough leakage that seawater had backed up into the tank, which is below the waterline. We now needed a pump-out pronto, and we weighed anchor a bit early for the one-hour trip to the club.

The collection of delivery-service toys at our mail service always amuses me.

I had to plow the mud a bit to get into one of their spiffy new floating slips (map), but the new docks have pump-out available at the slips. That business taken care of, we immediately offloaded the scooter and I set out for Green Cove Springs, where I picked up our mail and then girded myself for the tax collector, as Florida insisted I renew the scooter plate in person. The receptionist told me it was a 2-3 hour wait, but that I could do the plate at the drive-through, which was a new one on me.

The annual festival of group-decorated trees in Green Cove Springs.

I got in line on the scooter and was at the window in just ten minutes. The reason for the in-person requirement was that they wanted to replace the physical plate, which in this case was the vanity plate VECTOR2. There at the window I made the call to give up the vanity plate, lowering the fees and also allowing me to drive away with a new plate in hand, rather than having to wait for it by mail. Also, we lost enthusiasm for the personalized plates after both VECTOR1 and VECTOR3 were stolen, along with the scooters to which they were attached.

It is a bit faded. Apparently the plate itself must be replaced on a schedule.

I was finished at the tax collector in such record time that I had plenty of time to meet up with my friend Peter, a yachting journalist who lives in town. We met at the local coffee shop for a pleasant hour of catching up. I rounded out my excursion to my "home town" with a stop at the Elks Lodge, who seem to have difficulty cashing our checks (two of them have been stopped by our bank due to remaining uncashed).

Erin and Chris arrived in their whizzy new car after getting themselves squared away in their boat, Barefeet. We thought we'd just have a quiet dinner together in the bar at the club, not realizing the place would soon fill to the brim for "pot of gold" night, some sort of monthly member drawing. At least it made for a happening vibe, and we had a really good time catching up. Regular readers will know we intersected with them quite a bit on our Bahamas cruise last year, with our last visit right here in Jacksonville as we all headed north.

They widened (and painted) the sidewalk portion of the Park Street bridge and added benches, then striped the roadway for bike traffic. All motor traffic is now on the other side of the colorfully painted Jersey barrier.

Saturday morning was quite cold, and we were grateful to be plugged in to 50-amp power. I waited until the relative warmth of mid-afternoon to go back out on the scooter for some final errands, including Staples for an Amazon return and Walmart to restock provisions. I gassed up the scooter on the way home. Chris and Erin again met us for dinner, picking us up and whisking us off to the Julington Creek Fish Camp across the river. Their new Accord has seat warmers even in the back -- quite the luxury on a cold night.

Baptist Health seems to be sponsoring it all. This sign was abreast of the historic train station, now the convention center.

Sunday morning I strolled the property before decking the scooter. The club renovations are moving right along, and I think the lovely new pool deck and bar will be finished by our next visit. We topped up the water tank and went into the club when they opened at 11:30 for brunch, since we had to wait on tide anyway. We dropped lines at 1pm with a foot of tide for the short trip back downriver to the anchorage. We dropped the hook in a more comfortable spot (map) to await the arrival of some final Amazon deliveries to the downtown locker.

New trail signage with map. I assume there will be other colors of trails eventually.

When those deliveries still had not arrived by dinner time, we decided to spend the night, splashed the tender, and headed ashore at the Brooklyn dock, where Erin and Chris met us one final time for dinner at Fired Up Pizza, one of our collective favorites. They swung us by the Amazon Locker on the way home, and I picked up what had already been delivered, but the final two packages had yet to arrive.

We were comfortably back aboard when the delivery notice came in around 8pm. I ruminated about going back ashore for the half-hour walk to the locker and back so we could get an earlier start in the morning, but decided to save it for the daylight, even though it would be colder in the morning. It was also a lot windier, and I had to bash my way ashore. I found Park Street all torn up on the Brooklyn side, and there is now a nice pedestrian area along with a two-way bike path on the Park Street Bridge, occupying the former southbound traffic lanes, with the former northbound lanes now marked for two-way vehicle traffic. The bridge is part of the "Emerald" walking trail. On my return trip I was able to cut through the convention center in the historic train station.

We passed CG cutter Hammer, a towboat with-permanently attached spud barge, doing ATON maintenance in San Pablo Creek. Later they overtook us on the Tolomato River. We passed them again today.

We decked the tender and weighed anchor immediately after I returned, which still gave us a fair tide most of the way downriver. We again had the tide with us all the way through Pablo Creek. Right after we made the turn off the river, a forecast windstorm arrived with a vengeance, and I drove the rest of the day in crosswinds ranging from 20 to 55 mph. That qualifies as Force 7 or "Severe Gale," but apart from the stabilizers not being able to keep us fully level, Vector had no problem with it. We were certainly more comfortable than we would have been had we remained at anchor.

I snapped this when it registered 51mph steady, 51 max (44kt). Later the max crept up to 55.

We arrived to Vilano Beach just as the high wind advisory was expiring, but still we set the hook in 20 knots in our customary spot (map). We waited a while for things to abate, but lost patience and splashed the tender to bash our way ashore for dinner. We walked out to Surfside, which has finished its transition from a former Italian joint to a beach-bar menu, which is not nearly as appealing. They do still have a pizza oven, but we just had pizza the night before. As long as we were there, we popped into Publix next door before walking back. Things had calmed down further but the ride was still choppy and we decked the tender when we arrived.

This classic historic motor hotel had been a group of run-down apartments on our previous visits, with the old 50s-era neon sign still street-side out front. They've been completely remodeled as long/short term rentals complete with period porch chairs out front.

I'm glad we did because the temperatures kissed the freezing point last night, and it was still in the 30s when we got up this morning. We've been running all day with the engine room door open to get a little warmth belowdecks. We were hoping for a spot at the Halifax River Yacht Club tonight for more power, but it looks like they are full up and we'll be in the anchorage in Daytona instead.

The historic Haley's Court sign was also restored and I liked it against the sunset, even if it's overexposed here.

I was finally able to get some doctor appointments in Palm Beach on the 15th, so that's now our target. Tomorrow we should be in the Indian River Lagoon, and Thursday in Eau Gallie. I am hoping we'll be a little warmer once south of the cape.

Update: I called the yacht club a half hour out and they had a last-minute cancellation; we pulled into the basin at a high tide of a whopping 6" and plowed the mud over to the face dock. I had a struggle to get the boat lined up between the 20kt wind and the muddy bottom, but we are tied up (map). We walked over to Little Italy for dinner straight away, as tonight is "ticket Tuesday" in the club bar, and "pot of gold" was enough for one month (we've been through the similar ticket Tuesday in the past).

Low country New Year

Happy New Year, everyone. On this first day of 2025 we are offshore, southbound in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Georgia. We should be in Florida by day's end. As a side note, yesterday marked the tenth anniversary of us becoming Floridians.

Thursday we ended the day at a familiar anchorage at Inlet Creek (map), just east of the Ben Sawyer drawbridge. There is a notorious shoal just east of there and we wanted to be past it on the high tide at the end of the day; on this occasion we actually detoured around it on a bypass that has been sounded out by others. The baypass was great, but there is now dredge pipe running down one side; it looks like they are starting to dredge the trouble spot.

Vector's lights are no match for those of the South Carolina Yacht Club.

Friday morning we weighed anchor with enough tide to get across the last trouble spot between Inlet Creek and the bridge, pushed mostly uphill through Charleston Harbor in the morning, and arrived to Elliott Cut just ahead of the turn of the tide, so we had a bit against us. That timing put us at the other notoriously shallow spots on a high tide late afternoon, and we pushed through the last and worst of them, the Ashepoo-Coosaw cutoff, right at dusk, anchoring in the same spot we used the last time we did this exact thing, where the Combahee empties into the Coosaw (map).

Saturday morning we weighed anchor and continued south toward Beaufort, soon finding ourselves in heavy fog. I drove on instruments for a good part of the day, much of it with the foghorn running, including right through Beaufort. There we found a sailboat anchored dead center of the channel; he had heard my Securite calls and reached out before we arrived, and we also saw him on radar and AIS, but I was just 300 yards away when I finally saw his anchor light. I told him he was in a bad spot and needed to move.

This line of red buoys marks submerged dredge pipe. We are in the bypass here.

Knowing we might end the day in the vicinity of Hilton Head, we reached out to friends Ted and Patti who live on the island, and arranged to meet them at Windmill Harbour. We have a reciprocal yacht club here, the South Carolina Yacht Club, which has been closed or otherwise inaccessible to us almost every time we pass by; this time would be the charm. The club manager was out but Ted tracked down another officer and secured our place at the courtesy dock for the night.

The yacht club is within the Windmill Harbour Marina complex, which is a protected basin separated from Calibogue Sound by a private lock. We arrived with just enough tide to clear the silted area on the lock approach, plowing the silt just a little, and entered the smallest lock chamber we've ever used, with just 18" on either side of us. Ted met us at the lock, and then walked around to the club as we spun around and came alongside the dock (map). We agreed to meet at 5 to head off to dinner.

Daylight view, Vector at the SCYC courtesy dock.

Louise and I had a nice walk around the marina basin just to stretch our legs before dinner. Ted and Patti picked us up at 5 and we headed over to Hudson's Seafood for dinner, familiar to us because we've tendered there for dinner from the Skull Creek anchorage more than once. While Ted and I have interacted online for several years, we only just met them in person early last year in the Bahamas, on their sailboat Little Wing. It was a five-minute meet-and-greet as they were taking their dog ashore, and so it was great to finally spend a full evening together.

The yacht club has a nice brunch on Sunday, and we were sorely tempted to partake. But it did not start until 11:30, and if we were not through the lock by noon latest, we'd be stuck in the harbor until the tide came up. We opted to save it for another time, and so we again missed having a meal at this club. We did walk through, though, and it was very nicely decorated for the holidays both inside and out.

Louise at the tree in the South Carolina Yacht Club.

In addition to the dropping tide, we were also motivated to be well clear of the lock before a storm front came through. This is the same storm that killed two on the gulf coast and then smashed its way across the country; we were expecting gale force winds and I wanted to be in protected but relatively clear water with the stabilizers working before it hit. The rain had already started ahead of the front and we had to wait for a lull to drop lines and lock through.

The front hit with a vengeance while we were passing Dafuskie Island in a wide, deep stretch, which was perfect. Our anemometer registered gusts of 50mph, but it was all done and gone by the time we got to the narrow tricky sections starting at Ramshorn Creek.  In due time we crossed the Savannah River and crossed into Georgia, and through our old stomping grounds of Thunderbolt. We had an easy cruise through the low country, passed through Hell Gate at mid tide rising, and anchored in a familiar spot at Cane Patch Creek, off the Florida Passage (map).

I snapped this pre-sunset view as I was navigating Hell Gate.

Monday morning we weighed anchor on the turn of the tide, and briefly considered the option of going off shore at St. Catherines for the outside run to St. Simons Sound. We had the weather and a favorable tide at both ends, but it would make for a very long day but save us no distance. In the end the ability to break the trip into two shorter but busier days won out over a very long day offshore on autopilot, and we continues south on the ICW.

That would put us in St. Simons Sound on New Year's Eve, and I spent a good part of the day's cruise scoping out our options for a nice NYE dinner. Brunswick had several places open for dinner, and was also doing a shindig in the park including a "shrimp drop" at a family-friendly hour rather than midnight. (Fernandina Beach, one inlet south, also drops a shrimp on New Years Eve). But Brunswick is a detour of several miles off either of our routes, and there is no good place to land a tender, with the marina actively hostile to anchored boats.

I had to wash these by hand, and I hung them over the edge of the washer to dry in the hot engine room. Louise brushed up against them and they lept off, then clung to the side by the magnets in their hands. It cracked us both up.

Jekyll Island would have been a perfect stopping point, with at least one place still available for dinner, but the tide was unfavorable for us to reach the anchorage by dinner time. That left St. Simons Island, where there is at least a free dinghy dock and numerous dining choices. I made a dinner reservation to be sure we were covered.

The second half of Monday's cruise was on a falling tide, which meant we'd have to find a place to stop before the Little Mud River, which has shoaled to just 4' deep. We set our sights on the last anchorage before the shoaling, but not before we had to do-si-do with the cruise ship American Liberty in another narrow section at near dead low tide. I ended up station-keeping so we could meet in a straightaway with enough width for both of us.

American Liberty approaching. This photo makes it look like there is more room than there is; I'm right on the edge of the channel and you can see the channel marker off my starboard bow.

We turned off the ICW at the South River, adjacent to Wolf Island and the eponymous national wildlife refuge, and dropped the hook (map). It was dark, quiet, and still, with a distant view of the Sapelo Island Lighthouse over the top of Queens Island.

Stopping here let us tackle the Little Mud River at a high tide of 7.6' first thing in the morning. At that tide level I can drive over anything that's not dry land on the chart, and I did a little weaving around to see if there was a better way through at lower tide levels than the track we've been using. I think I found an improvement of just a few inches in one small section.

A view of our one-whistle pass out the pilothouse window.

Clearing through there at the morning high had us arriving to our chosen anchorage between Lanier and St. Simons Islands right at lunch time, and we dropped the hook in a spot 3/4 of a mile from the free dock (map). We have dear friends who live here, but they were out of town for the holiday. We splashed the tender in the warmth of mid-afternoon and I went to the landing at Gascoigne Bluff Park stag to refresh my memory of the walk to town.

The shortest route to town involves walking in the soft grass along a very busy road for a quarter mile before the sidewalk begins. The paved route involves a detour that adds a quarter mile to the trip. Either one of those would ace us out of walking even one direction, so I walked over to the nearby marina to ask if we could tie up for dinner, which cuts that quarter mile back off the paved route, and they agreed.

Sunset over Wolf Island.

We headed back ashore together at 4 for a 5pm reservation and were able to walk the whole way to our reservation at the Wolf Island Oyster Company (we did see plenty of oysters when we were at Wolf Island). We did have to take shortcuts through the grounds of the Frederica Academy and the parking lots of the Hampton Inn and the B.Lush spa. Dinner was good and the place had an upbeat vibe with the Carolina game on in the bar. Afterward we walked to the Winn-Dixie for provisions before Ubering back to the marina.

Lots of things in the maritime world operate on UTC, often called Greenwich Mean Time, and there is no shame in us having our own little celebration at home at "boater's midnight" or 9pm. I was still up at actual midnight, but in deference to Louise, already asleep, and the two sailboats anchored nearby, I refrained from sounding the Kahlenbergs. Instead I stepped out on deck to take in the distant fieworks going off all around us.

These were the closest, on the ocean side of St. Simons. Not much of a view.

This morning we had a relaxing morning aboard, with the tide at St. Marys inlet unfavorable for a departure earlier than 11:15 or so. We weighed anchor right around then and zipped down the river and out the inlet on a strong ebb. As I type the plotter is projecting an arrival at St. Mary's inlet around 4:10, which is a bit early as the flood does not start until 4:30. The later we arrive the less ebb we will have to fight; we should be in Fernandina Beach about an hour later, right at sunset.

Even though we are almost to Florida, we're still not far enough south. We were fortunate to have a nice warm day for our long walk yesterday, but temperatures are on the way back down and by this time next week, it will be freezing overnight again. At this writing we're not sure which way we'll turn when we hit the St. Johns River tomorrow sometime.

Gratuitous additional pic of SCYC at night.

A Georgetown Christmas

Happy Boxing day, everyone. Also Chag Chanukah Sameach, Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Yule/Saturnalia (sorry, no standing skyclad before the tree in this weather). I know that still does not cover everyone, so maybe just Happy Holidays. We are underway southbound on the ICW in a holiday caloric stupor, with Georgetown behind us and Charleston on the horizon.

Vector at anchor in the entrance to Cow House Creek across from Wacca Wache marina.

This is not the latest we've been in this part of the country, yet this season seems to be the coldest. We were comfortable at Bird Island, where last I posted, but yet another cold snap was coming. That, in part, led us to settle on Georgetown for the holiday. I spent a good part of Friday's cruise through Myrtle Beach on the phone, trying to find a holiday meal in Charleston, with no success, and we'd be facing a very cold dinghy ride and/or a couple of Uber rides to get anywhere there in any case.

And so it was that we decided to stick with the reservations we already had at The Independent in Georgetown for Christmas dinner. There's a good anchorage there with a very convenient dinghy dock, but with more sub-freezing nights on the way, I called the marinas to see if there was a spot. Harborwalk, the nicest of the lot and closest to town, had a spot open starting Sunday, and we booked it, figuring that was when we'd arrive anyway.

The broken grill element I wrote of in the last post, on its way to the trash.

I had set my sights on Enterprise Landing, a familiar anchorage, for Friday night, but we got an early start in the morning on account of the cold, and we absolutely rocketed through the normally chaotic Myrtle Beach area with basically zero traffic all day. It was the least we'd ever seen here, and a stark contrast to the absolute zoo that it was when we last passed in the other direction on a holiday weekend. We hit Enterprise early in the afternoon, and decided to just press on.

That let us get all the way to Wachesaw Landing, on the Waccamaw River, where we anchored in a familiar spot across from Wacca Wache Marina (map). There is a tongue-twister in there somewhere. The later arrival gave us more heat into the evening, and we were able to tender across to Walters at the marina for dinner and a nice draft beer.

Georgetown has a "cat cafe" where you can pay to hang out with adoptable cats.

Saturday we got underway first thing to catch the last of the ebb as far as it would take us, figuring to end the day at Butler Island. We first swung over to the marina to top up our fuel, at the best price we'll see until we are northbound out of Florida. We were only able to fit 200 gallons, and in hindsight we could have saved 75 bucks or so by taking on 500 fewer gallons back in Virginia, but that kind of gambling is a fool's errand; the price could just as easily have gone up in the intervening month.

We had a good push all the way to Butler, where the ebb ran out and we found ourselves against the flood. But even with the fuel stop we were now so early in the day that even the uphill climb the rest of the way to Georgetown would make for an early afternoon arrival, and on plenty of tide to get us over the entrance bar. We again to decided to press on, even though we'd be a day ahead of our slip reservation, knowing we could at least get ashore for dinner. We ran a slow bell the whole way to conserve fuel and have a bit more tidal help on the entrance.

I stopped at the Indigo Bakery on my first walk for some breakfast pastries for the cold morning.

We worked our way all the way back to the steel mill and dropped the hook in a new spot for us (map) with a bit more room. This early in the day I bundled up in my winter gear and splashed the tender to go ashore for a walk and to scope out dining options. I did not get far; halfway to the dock the overheat alarm came on, and I noted that there was no water coming from the tell-tale that lets us know the cooling is working. I nursed it back to Vector and we hauled it on deck ass-end-first so I could work on it.

Fortunately it was sunny out and the warmest part of the afternoon, so I was mostly comfortable in my coveralls with my sweater underneath. I replaced the impeller, to no effect, checked water flow by removing the thermostat housing (flow was good), tested the thermostat in a pot of water (it was fine), and put it back together with the thermostat out. That did the trick and restored water flow and operation, if a bit rough with no 'stat in the bitter cold. This all involved dunking the tender back in the water like a tea bag three times, but it was running well enough to go to dinner and I could work on the 'stat in warmer climes.

These enormous inflatable ornaments adorned the yard of the Kaminski House Museum, which was also nicely lit at night.

I had just enough time to make it ashore for a half-hour walk, which involved stopping in to every decent restaurant to see who was open Christmas Eve. I ended up with three reservations for discussion later. Where I expected to find a Mexican place that we enjoyed with friends Dorsey and Bruce on our last visit, I instead found Alfresco Italian Bistro and booked a table. I later learned that the Mexican place had literally just closed early in the month, and I had walked in to Alfresco on their second day open.

We returned ashore for pizza and drafts at SoCo Wood Fired Pizza, which was decent if a bit charmless. The temperature plummeted into the 30s overnight, and by the time we were weighing anchor for the short trip to the dock at noon on Sunday we had run the generator four hours, whereas we normally run only two, and seldom even that for just an overnight. We were glad to be heading toward a power outlet.

I remembered this curved bar from when it was Marker 42 Cantina.

By 12:15 we were tied up at the south end of the face dock (map) and all signed in. I put the e-bike together and made a cold pilgrimage to Walmart before the Christmas Eve chaos to fill our provision list. We walked down to the familiar Corner Tavern for a casual dinner and a draft beer. This was the first place I had scored a reservation for Christmas Eve, when they close at 5, and I canceled it, with better options in hand. Overnight temperatures were again in the 30s and we blasted the heat all night.

Christmas eve I again struck out on the e-bike to both the Piggly Wiggly and the Food Lion, hoping beyond hope that one would have a small pumpkin pie left, a holiday flavor that I crave. Sadly, both were sold out. I settled for some fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and a few bagels for breakfast. The stores were crowded but the town was empty.

For Christmas cheer I had some of the wonderful home-made Limoncello gifted us by our friends Dorsey and Bruce aboard Esmeralde.

When dinner rolled around we strolled to Alfresco Italian Bistro for our reservation. The food was pretty good and they had some nice drafts, but here on day four of their existence they were still going through some teething pains. Despite being, I think, the very first reservation in their book when I made it on day one, they marched us right over to the worst table in the joint, which we promptly declined. All worked out in the end and we will be back.

The town was quiet on Christmas eve, and even quieter Christmas day. We had a nice walk around a deserted town, and then I went for a longer walk out to the Pee Dee River and the big sportfishing marina there. We had a lovely dinner at The Independent, in the upscale George Hotel right next to the dock. We completely forgot to show our marina receipt, which would have taken 10% off the food portion of our bill.

We both found whimsical holiday socks under the tree. Little magnets let them "hold hands." My pair was identical but red.

This morning, wanting to save the last of our bagels for at anchor, we walked across the street to the Grit & Grind for breakfast sandwiches. They were decent but I would ask them to cook my egg longer next time. While we were in line we ran into our dock neighbors Donna and Larry from the Hatteras 58 Ethel-M, who had tied up behind us Tuesday.

On my walk to the Pee Dee I passed this, umm, sculpture out front of a restaurant supply. They sell new and used fixtures, so perhaps this was decor for a now-defunct tiki bar.

We would have loved to linger at the dock until checkout time, sucking up watts from the power pedestal, but the tide was falling and we wanted to leave the harbor with a bit of water under the keel. We contemplated first using the pump-out, but that's uncomfortable in the cold and we learned our neighbors had trouble with it, so we passed. We dropped lines at 9:30 and left while we still had 19" under the keel. That means we'll be most of the way to Charleston Harbor when we stop today; we don't want to stop too early because it will mean running the generator a lot longer for heat.

The whole town was festively lit, and we enjoyed passing this fat tree each evening in the town square.

All of that will have us passing Charleston before lunch tomorrow, and on this pass we'll sail right on by. The spot we like at the Maritime Center is unavailable, and we're not really going to enjoy the city in this cold anyway. We'll time our arrival to Elliott Cut for the noon slack and continue south, anchoring somewhere along the Wadmalaw I expect. We should be in Georgia by the weekend.