A week through North Carolina

We are underway southbound in the Atlantic Ocean, with Oak Island and Cape Fear receding behind us. It's been a week since I last posted, and in that time our always-fuzzy plan for the immediate future has coalesced a bit. More on that after I catch up the week.

Saturday's cruise across the Albermarle and through Croatan Sound was quite pleasant, but the wind picked up and things got a little lumpy at the very end of the day in Pamlico sound. We tucked further into the Long Shoal River than on previous stops and dropped the hook (map). We had a comfortable night, with two other boats joining us at a respectful distance over the course of the evening.

That stop made it a long day Sunday to the first decent anchorages in Adams Creek, but we knew we needed to be off the Neuse before Monday. It's a nice open-water cruise, and only two days out from my last blog post I used the time to organize a few things and research our next few legs and some travel plans.

Sunset from our anchorage on Long Shoal River.

Somewhere during the cruise I realized I was starting to come down with something. In hindsight, it's probably the same thing that made Louise miserable for several days and that we both hoped was just a bad allergy attack. I was mostly OK the rest of the day and we dropped the hook a little before dinner time in Adams Creek, at a new spot for us owing to forecast northerlies (map).

As I expected, by Monday morning I had a full-blown cold, but it was not yet bad enough to be popping pills, and we weighed anchor to make it to Beaufort before it got any worse. The anchorage was packed full when we arrived, with a couple of boats still circling like vultures. We proceeded directly to our secret-squirrel spot wedged in between a green daymark and the rear range light for the offshore channel (map). This is a tight spot and I have to maneuver to land the anchor in about a ten-foot diameter circle, but the holding is good, and no one will get too close to us here.

I took some cold meds and had a big nap, which had me feeling good enough to tender ashore and go to Finz, a casual burger joint with drafts, for dinner. We both really needed to get off the boat and stretch our legs after three days on board. I dropped an eBay sale in the mailbox before we headed home. By bedtime I knew we would not be going anywhere in the morning, even though it would be a good outside window to Wrightsville Beach.

Our defensive channel marker, close aboard.

Tuesday is sort of a blur; I was in and out of bed and tried half-heartedly to get some things done around the house. We managed to get back ashore for dinner, which was a very disappointing return to Mescalito. Louise had a disappointing "burrito" at Finz that was not Mexican at all and so was craving it, even though we knew from experience Mescalito can be hit or miss. North Carolina is not known for its Mexican food. Anyway, the steak fajitas were tough and hardly seasoned.

By Wednesday morning I felt OK enough to drive the boat, no longer needing any meds, although we got up later than the pre-dawn start we would have needed for the last of the window offshore. Wanting to be moving on, we set off down the ICW to the lone anchorage in range, the basin known as Mile Hammock on the Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune. We ended up at the north end of the already crowded anchorage and dropped the hook in 20 knots out of the south (map).

This anchorage has a soft mud bottom that is not exactly the Bruce's forte, and even on 7:1 we dragged slowly for a couple of hours before re-setting a little further south. I kept an eye on things until the wind let up a bit before I turned in, and the rest of the night was uneventful. We have not had this sort of problem in other parts of the anchorage, so I think the holding is a little better further south. In hindsight we could have squeezed in among the boats already there, and this paragraph will serve to remind us next time.

A quick glimpse at the wind as we passed through Camp Lejeune on the ICW.

With the supermoon come king tides, and Thursday we did a lot of dodging and weaving around well-known shoals as the water level dropped below zero. We heard lots of boats running aground, and I radioed back to one guy following us, no doubt wondering why I was going Crazy Ivan, that he had best follow my line through one particularly bad spot. We made it to Wrightsville Beach without incident, but it was dead low when we arrived and we went the long way around rather than take Motts Channel, which has a shallow bar right next to the ICW.

The anchorage was busy but we found a decent spot to drop the hook (map). After our disappointment in Beaufort the third time is the charm, and we tendered ashore to Tower 7 Baja Grill for dinner, where the fajitas were as good as always. Since our last visit they have brightened the interior, changing the ceiling from black to white and adding brighter lights. I preferred it a bit darker and less harsh, but the food is still good and you can still get Ambar by the pitcher.

We needed a few grocery items and wandered over to Robert's after dinner. They had most of what we needed, and we judged it good enough to avoid me having to hike into town in the morning to go to Harris Teeter. I was still not feeling 100%, and I was happy to pay the boutique prices at Robert's to avoid another trip. On the ride how we remarked that an anchor light across the harbor looked pretty close to the docks.

These bombed-out (literally) personnel carriers on the barrier island are practice targets for the Marines.

We soon learned why. I had barely taken my coat off and sat down when a call came in to the Coast Guard from a boat in the harbor that was dragging anchor and had fouled its propeller. He sounded panicked that he might be dragged into the bridge. The CG put him in touch with TowBoat, but they were a half hour out.

We jumped in the tender and headed over to him. We were able to take one of his lines over to a piling at one of the docks, which evidently he had already hit, which would at least keep him from hitting the bridge if his anchor let go. He seemed very relieved to have that safety valve. With TowBoat already on the way we wished him well and headed home. Eventually we saw them tow him to a more distant part of the anchorage to await a diver in the morning.

I have been working through how I can get back to NJ for a visit with my parents ever since we had to blow right past them offshore on account of weather. We hoped-for plans to just take the train up from Hampton Roads fell through on account of lack of dock availability, my attention next shifted to right here at Wrightsville Beach, where it's very easy to get to Wilmington airport and a short flight to Newark.

This Nordhavn in Wrightsville Beach was also with us in Mile Hammock. I think that may be one of the international lifeboat colors.

The current situation with Air Traffic Control has given us pause about doing any flying, and literally while I was working through the possibilities the announcement came out that the FAA would be mandating reduced flights. That sealed the deal, and we decided instead that I should just tough it out on Amtrak from the next available station, which will be in Charleston. (Amtrak serves Wilmington via a four-hour bus ride; no thanks.)

With nothing thus keeping us in Wrightsville Beach (or turning us upriver to Wilmington), we set our sights on the next stop south, which is Southport. This is a challenging stop for us because there are no anchorages, leaving us to either anchor well out of town in the Cape Fear, or take a dock. We needed water and a pump-out anyway, which made the decision for us, and I booked a slip at St. James Plantation, which had everything we needed including an on-site restaurant.

That's where we were headed when we left the Wrightsville Beach anchorage yesterday morning, but about halfway down the Cape Fear we realized we would be arriving at a tide of -0.3'. We went back to our notes from the last visit which said the channel was shallow, and we had arrived then at a much higher tide. A call to the marina confirmed we might see just 5½' on the entrance.

Vector at night as seen from the Baldhead ferry terminal. Dwarfed by the 55 Nordhavn next to us.

We could stop someplace for a couple of hours for better tide, but that would cut into the time available to do the laundry with a marina water supply. I made some hurried last-minute calls and we settled for a spot at Deep Point Marina, which we remembered from a decade ago. I got off the phone literally moments before making the turn into the basin, where we had just a foot under keel in the channel and plowed mud at the turn into the slip (map). We docked bow-in with the anchor overhanging the dock so I could work on the anchor roller, which made for a tricky tie-up at the stern involving lassoing a piling from the boat deck.

We had noticed the anchor roller on the verge of losing a bolt when we weighed in Wrightsville, and when I could not budge the bolts with hand tools I knew we'd have to attack it from a dock or else I would be hanging off the bow in a bosun's chair. The dock made it easy and with some PB blaster, a mini torch, and an impact driver I was able to get the bent bolt out and remove the roller. I had to clean the axle threads up with a tap, and I replaced both rollers and two bolts as a precaution. It took me an hour and change working from the dock.

The reason we've never been back to this marina is that it is next to absolutely nothing, and so at dinner time we called a cab. Uber tried its best but had no drivers available, and the local "guy" who runs the service in town turned out to be "on a private drive all night in Wilmington." Oak Island Cab sent a taxi in 15 minutes and he dropped us in town for $22. That's pretty steep just to go to dinner, but Uber was available for our return ride for just half that. We had a nice meal at the Moore Street Oyster Bar, which has an impressive row of draft handles.

Tap list at MSOB. Many servers were wearing the "shuck me" shirts.

Had we made it to St. James Plantation last night, there is no question that we would have continued down the ICW today, weaving through some of the most notorious shoals on the waterway. And I can see on my scope more than a dozen boats doing just that. But stopping as we did a bit further upriver, we thought to check the outside conditions for the relatively short 30-mile hop to Little River. It's a little lumpy out here, but within our tolerance, and it's a much easier watch. That also let us drive right past the pump-out dock that we had planned to use. We left the river via the Western Bar Channel with five feet of tide. We found the least depth to be 8' MLLW, which would be nerve-wracking at low tide.

We should be at the anchorage off the Little River a good hour or so before sunset, and tomorrow we will get an early start to beat the weekend traffic in Myrtle Beach and continue down the inside. Louise has a big batch of pasta e fagioli on the stove for tonight. We have at least four days to Charleston, including a fuel stop and at least one night in Georgetown. We might take a dock there while the temperatures dive into the low 30s.

I was able to get a reservation at our preferred marina in Charleston starting on the 14th for a week, and I already have my train tickets. I'll be going in to Philly and renting a car there. Louise will be holding down the fort for the couple of nights I am gone, and the rest of the week we expect to enjoy Charleston. It's been a couple of years since our last extended visit there.