The Warmth of the Earth!

How the warmth of the Earth can work magic. It's 8:25 AM on Tuesday and the heater has been off for 24 full hours now. Yesterday afternoon the sun was actually out. It was warm. Relatively.  Sunglasses were used.

The TPH Heater, though, ran for 19.75 hours and likely saved our trip, our marriage and our toes. Let's hope we don't need it again for a while.

Keeping the Cockpit warm!

Saturday night was spent at Wrightsville Beach. One of favorite anchorages since we weathered tornados there on our Northbound trip in 2011. Only six other boats at anchor. Uneventful, but good and snug before the nighttime rain.

Coming out of the long Wrightsville Beach channel on Sunday morning we took our first ICW bounce off the bottom as we turned South. We're in the lower Carolinas for sure.

That's Ocean across the skinny dunes

Sunday we met my nemesis. The tug Royal Engineer pushing a barge with a mountain of wood chips. When we first saw her, we thought a tug was towing a house. Then, … a mountain. Turned out to be 2,000 Tons of bark mulch. That's Four Million Pounds! Yikes! It was big.

And, unfortunately, we caught up to it. It was likely going no more than half a knot slower than us. Getting past it was neither easy or pretty. And no help from the tug captain. "Do what ya gotta do", is all he said. We just thanked God that trauma was over…we pulled off to anchor, later, the Royal Engineer glided past farther down the ICW…phew!

The Royal Engineer

Anchored Sunday night just over the South Carolina line. Our third time anchored in Little Creek, SC. A couple of casino boats call the place home. But Las Vegas, it is not. Quiet and pretty though.  I always loved South Carolina anchorages.

Crossing into South Carolina.  Warmer?

Awoke to fog so thick on Monday we could not see the other two boats at anchor, let alone the two red marks leading the way back to the ICW. But, by 9:00 we could see it lifting so we tried to make a go of it. Several swing bridges, the so-called South Carolina Rock Pile (at Nixon Crossroads, of course) and, What?!? my arch-nemesis, the Royal Engineer, again (!).

This time, passing Royal Engineer tested our (or at least, my) patience and fortitude. I lost on both counts. Despite sage local (meaning, on board) advice to stay put behind this behemoth, after slowing down for all of two minutes, I couldn't stand it no more.  I made my move.  Just as I pulled ahead, Tug captain calls over, “Endurance, you better move over or you’ll hit bottom”.  Thud, thud, thud.  We did.  In too close a proximity to the square bow of this barge.  (Read, are you kidding,?  We could get sucked under that thing…this is akin to a moped playing chicken with an 18 wheeler, no joke)  After regaining water (and speed), I went down for a nap.  Exhausted.  Strained.  No longer willing to (or to be allowed to) battle this giant. 

I hate that boat!!

Monday night was spent behind Butler’s Island in the Waccamaw River.  A seemingly deserted stretch of cypress swamps that once was America’s Rice Bowl.  Abandoned rice fields on both sides of the river.  Still alligators, as well (or so Active Captain cruising reports say).  As Tess was preparing dinner and Tony was ‘in the office’, Tess called out with notice that Royal Engineer was passing on the other side of Butler’s …headed on down the way.  Amen, so long, sayonara sucker!

We were expecting the worst weather of the week on Tuesday; surprisingly, it remained warm through the night and into the morning.  Overcast and windy, between 24 and gusting to 36 knots throughout the day.  A squall or two just for show.  Nevertheless, we made good time and except for the junction of the Waccamaw and the Great Pee Dee River at Georgetown, we were well protected (or, protected enough).  With Tony’s personal obsession (on guard for the Royal Engineer at every turn) most confidently (he hoped)  dropping his load at the paper mill in Georgetown, Tony triumphantly announced “it will be a GRAND day…I’m free!”

We passed through the Romein Wildlife Refuge just a buzz with all sorts of wading and shore birds; the Waucamau yesterday was resplendent; the occasional inlets giving us glimpses of the great Atlantic and the breaking waves on shore while we slide past live Oaks dripping in Spanish Moss.  The abandoned rice fields echo our recent trip to Vietnam and Cambodia, as they sigh and wave in the breezes acre after acre.  This part of the ICW is simply lovely…(especially if you’re a golfer).

Beautiful and graceful Egrets.

American White pelicans!

Of course, within a half hour of his “I’m free” pronouncement we hear a hail to the Royal Engineer by a boat wanting to overtake him.  Aaaah, Ahab, we are tortured men!  The ICW is a miracle of engineering and transportation, but it is literally a ditch dug through marshes, sometimes a landcut strewn with stumps and rocks, sometimes fairly straight, often times quite erratic and shoaled in….  so, once we spotted “that mountain, the Royal Engineer”,  Tess took command of the helm and we slowed to a crawl.  There was no way on God’s green and snowy earth we were going to pass him a third time and survive.  We spent an hour at 4 knots or less.  Purposely!  [truthfully, we were little affected by him on any of our days, but like Moby Dick to Ahab, the bastard was deep in the captain’s head!]  At 3:00 PM we pulled into the western branch of Dewees Creek.  Royal Engineer, be gone.  To Charleston. Or to the Devil.  Please don’t be there tomorrow.

Tonight's South Carolina Sunset.