Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) - Part 1/3

[Kyle]Day One (Apr 4th)

It was time to get moving again. We left Charleston at dawn along with a whole cohort of boats that had been waiting out the weather. Most were powerboats that were faster and significantly shorter in height than us. They were already receding around the next curve in the waterway when we arrived at the first bridge. By the time it opened to let our mast through, the other boaters were well out of sight. We spent the rest of the available daylight mostly by ourselves, slowly gliding by marshland that was occasionally interrupted by a mile or so of waterfront housing, every one of which seemed to be at least a part-time Bed and Breakfast.

Day 1: Charleston to Winyah Bay (ICW mile 406)

By sunset, we had made it to Winyah Bay, just downstream of Georgetown, South Carolina. We weren’t quite fast enough to get there before the midges came out for their evening feed, though. We anchored pretty far from shore, so the situation was probably a lot better than it could have been. It would have been nice to sleep with the hatches open, but not nice to wake up covered in little, itchy bites. I guess that’s what fans are for…

Day Two (Apr 5th)

Following our pre-dawn departure, we had a very atmospheric first few hours as the flooding tide took us up the Waccamaw River from Winyah Bay. There was not a breath of wind, which made the water an upside-down version of the views above. We went through thick fog interspersed with cold, clear spots where the mists clung to the tops of cypress trees whose buttress roots splayed out before entering the mud below the water’s surface.

As the sun rose further, all of the moisture burned off and we were soon hiding from it under the bimini to keep from being cooked.

High tide arrived just as we passed the tidal border between the waters fed by the inlets for the Waccamaw and Calabash rivers. Now the ebb was helping us along. I would love to take credit for timing it that way, but we would have needed every minute of daylight anyway, so we were going to have to take whatever we got.

Day 2: Winyah Bay to Sage Island (ICW mile 329.5) - now in North Carolina

I had planned on anchoring for the night in the Calabash, right on the border between North and South Carolina. I had done it once before and really didn’t like it. There is a lot of tour boat traffic through there and they seem to take a certain pleasure in charging and then swerving to throw big wakes on the anchored boats. There is no suitable alternative nearby. With our all-day boost from the current, we had just enough time to carry on, now on the flood coming in Calabash’s inlet, to get all of the way to a very peaceful spot on the Shallotte River where it was just us and one other catamaran. That was so much better.

Day Three (Apr 6th)

As our pre-dawn-to-dusk schedule remained the same, the moon and thus the tides came later. We were starting to get out of sync, but only a little. We were doing okay until about the time we saw Lydia waving at us from Take Five at the marina in Southport. By the time we turned north to follow the Cape Fear River, the current was holding us back more and more by the minute. We got excited when it turned in our favor as we transited Snow’s Cut to the New River, but then we were right back to fighting it again. We had a nice tailwind, though, which allowed us to keep our speed where we would like it. It took us right until the last minute of daylight to get to our anchorage at Sloop Point, just out of the busy channel for all of the boats moored at the docks on Topsail Island.

As we headed northward, the houses on both sides of the ICW got more numerous and much bigger. We saw single homes that were much larger than the buildings we have seen on some small islands that house the entire government. More impressive was that since the water is so shallow and marshy, each home has a loooong railroad trestle-style pier leading from the house to the ubiquitous center-console fishing boat, jacked up on a lift at the end. Most of the piers had thick railings on each side, as well as a covered seating area by the boat. Each one looked like they took more lumber to build than the house. Out of all of the thousands that we saw, only two had someone obvious out enjoying them. I imagine that if you are lucky enough to have one of these homes, you will ironically need to spend most of your time somewhere else, working to pay for them.

Day 3: Sage Island to Sloop Point (ICW Mile 264)

Day Four (Apr 7th)

Our luck with the current finally ended. A big blow was on its way and none of the anchorages that were available in the next sixty miles offered much protection. The best plan I could think of was to continue past Beaufort, North Carolina into the more protected waters of the little creeks to the north in the section between Bogue Sound and the Neuse River. To make this work, we had to leave Sloop Creek in the last few hours of the moonless night. This synchronized us with the current, but in the wrong way. Every time we would pass an inlet, we would go from fighting the flood to fighting the brand-new ebb.

This leg of our trip started beautiful and calm with glassy water and the slightest of tailwinds, which was not enough to be worth deploying any sail for a speed boost. By afternoon, lowering clouds arrived along with a building headwind that slowed Begonia down even more. Even though it was Saturday, all of the recreational traffic quickly thinned until it was just us plodding slowly away in the channel.

By the time we made it to the Beaufort/Morehead City area, the sound of the wind through the rigging was completely droning out the engines. When we finally made it out of Bogue sound, we were better protected from the wind and waves, which helped our speed through the water, but the adverse current picked up to more than compensate for the gain. We were now fighting the building flood coming south down Adams Creek from the Neuse River.

We got to our anchorage twenty minutes after sunset. We were as far as we could get and still be protected from the building swell in the Neuse. That was a long day. Since the next day’s weather was supposed to be worsening, we knew it was also going to be a short night with an early start.

Day 4:To nowhere in particular (ICW Mile 188.5)

Charleston, South Carolina

[Kyle]Charleston is one of our favorite cities on the East Coast, so we were happy to make landfall there after nearly seven years away from the U.S. Even before we had cleared in, we were already invited to cocktails aboard Take Five by Bill and Lydia, who are Chesapeake-based members of the Offshore Cruising Club (OCC) were also passing through Charleston. Joining us for cocktails were Kurt and Carol, the Charleston port officers for the OCC, the very same group that had been there on our arrival to say "Hi" and help tie our lines. What a warm welcome and a lovely first evening back in the USA.

Charleston has a classic style and is a pleasure to just amble about the many historic streets

After Take Five departed the next morning, we spend the bulk of our day doing the usual boring marina jobs that build up between visits. Among the jobs, it was the first time in several months that we had access to fresh water and a hose, so Begonia received some long overdue pa-treatment. Maryanne did some basic grocery shopping in the first real supermarket we’ve seen since we left South Africa back in the new year (thanks kindly to Carol, the local OCC port officer for the assistance). We were both flagging at the end of the day, but insisted on walking downtown for dinner as an excuse to enjoy the beautiful city along the way. Actually, we weren’t planning to go that far, the local Yacht Club was advertising a pizza night and that sounded just right for us. Once we arrived though, they confessed to some staff issue, and told us the only pizzas on offer were frozen ones from Walmart. We took the hint, and went off to find a proper pizza joint. We ended up at New York Pizza, where they were so faithful to the style that it was impossible to eat a slice without folding it in half like the New Yorkers do.

Our next day was reserved for proper tourism. We started with a trip to Fort Sumter, where the first shots of the Civil War were fired. The Confederates relentlessly blasted it to rubble from all sides within the first few hours. Hearing the accounts and looking at the photos, it seems amazing that any of the Union soldiers within survived at all. All did, in fact, and were later allowed to surrender the fort and return to their Union ships without further harm. They even got to keep their flag. By the time they got the fort back four years later, it was basically just a mound of dirt riddled with bricks.

Fort Sumter - where the first shots were fired of the American Civil War (1861)

We spent the balance of the day walking through Charleston’s stately streets, the college (university) buildings and the town’s many museums. We chose a route back to the marina via Fast and French, a restaurant recommended by Kurt and Carol. It is small, with only a long bar and just a handful of tables and it is endlessly charming. We were very lucky to get a couple of the spots at the end of the bar.

Beautiful Charleston kept us quite busy

After we sat down (at Fast and French), a whole string of regulars came by to be told their usual table wouldn’t be available for a while. All took the news in stride and none seemed to begrudge us the time to fully enjoy our delicious meal at a proper French pace while they paced the sidewalk outside trying to appear busy.

We walked home with the warm glow of full bellies that included some good wine and arrived just as one last cold rain shower announced that the time had come to dive inside for the rest of the night.

Return to the U.S.A.

[Kyle]When the wind had finally moved far enough to the northeast from north, we pulled up anchor and left The Bahamas for the U.S. Even though we were sailing close to the wind, the sail was pleasant with the last of the reefs to windward flattening the seas. In due course, that all ended and we were soon having to hold on and dive out of the helm seat to avoid the errant wave. By sunset, we had reached the edge of the Gulf Stream. Our speed over ground climbed into the teens and stayed there for the next day and a half.

As we shot north, the wind and waves gradually veered astern. Conditions morphed from annoying to pleasant. The warm waters of the Gulf Stream kept the temperatures nice and tropical, even though we were pushing into what was the end of the Northern winter just ten days previously.

The wind started to blow hard from the south. We used as much sail as the gusts would allow since we knew it was forecast to continue veering to the west and increasing to gale force. The last hundred miles to Charleston, South Carolina are in pretty shallow water and I didn’t want to be there in forty-knot gusts.

An Easy sail with Pelicans at both ends of the passage

When our second and last morning came, we had just left the Gulf Stream. We were seventy miles out and all the forecasts were saying the gale should be arriving any minute now. When we finally sailed into the flat water between the breakwaters at the entrance to Charleston Harbor, the most wind we had seen so far was eighteen knots. By the time we sailed past Fort Sumpter just a few minutes later, we were going upwind at seven knots with only three square meters of jib unrolled. The channel turned directly upwind, so we rolled it up and started the engines. It was a few minutes before they were warmed up enough to drive us forward into the building thirty-knot gusts.

When we arrived at Charleston City Marina to clear in, we were pleased to find that our assigned space was alongside their big megadock, with no fancy maneuvering required. A lot of the boats who were scheduled to leave had elected to stay through the blow, so they cleared out a little slot that was barely longer than Begonia. The wind was blowing directly onto the dock, so all I had to do was use asymmetric power to keep us centered in our gap and aligned with the dock as the wind blew us in sideways, letting the fenders absorb the impact. Leaving would be pretty much impossible now, so it’s a good thing we have a couple of days to let the storm blow itself out before we have to try.

Aside from the dock crew ready to assist us, we were also greeted by two couples from the local Ocean Cruising Club (OCC) port officers (Kurt and Carol) and visiting OCC member boaters (Bill & Lydia) that had been monitoring our progress – we had quite the welcome. Our on-line clearing-in request wasn’t going as smoothly as expected so we were not quite sure what our legal status was without an "all clear" message; we opted to thank everyone from a distance and agreed to meet up later once rested and official.

We last left the USA by boat in November of 2016(!), and have only manged a few brief returns via plane: Kyle to collect parts and visit with his Mom while we were in Chile (March 2018), and a quick day trip to San Francisco to reset our visas in January of 2020. Our planned "proper" vacation around Easter of 2020 was all cancelled due to Covid, so visits with family and friends are long overdue.

We had a warm welcome from fellow OCC Members on our arrival
Bill and Lydia (of Take Five), and Kurt and Carol(Charleston OCC Port officers )

West End, Grand Bahama

[Kyle]The sail from Chub Cay to Grand Bahama was the same routine as the previous – sail across the Bahama bank in daytime and then cross the deep water of the Northwest Providence Channel at night. The main differences were that the dark bit was longer, so we didn’t have to slow down, and there was a LOT of traffic. It seems that every ship closing on the U.S. East Coast takes the shortcut through the channel. It was way busier than I remember the Torres Strait or even the English Channel - at least when we were there. It was an all-night head-swiveler.

The weather was being weird. After arriving in West End, we were to have one day of strong winds from every direction in which the anchorage was not protected. Then we would have just enough of a weather window for the leg to the U.S. I was scratching my head trying to figure out the best way to deal with the situation when Maryanne found a note about Ginn Harbour, just to the east. Ginn Harbour was planned as a Chub Cay-style posh development, but they ran out of funds right between dredging the harbor and building the homes. What is left is a big, dredged canal system in the wilderness that is protected from all sides. The only down side to it is that getting ashore is difficult and when you do, there is not much to see in the way of touristy enticements. It’s a great place to stay aboard while hunkering down for a storm.

From our anchorage in the abandoned development - we could take the dinghy down a side channel for a short walk to the town

As this was to be our last stop in The Bahamas, we really wanted to go ashore. We decided we would do whatever it took to get there. We started with a long row up one of the canals and under a couple of bridges to a dead-end. There, we could scramble up the bank to a trail. Then a long trail led us to the corner of someone’s property, where we could sheepishly join the last stretch of their driveway to the main road.

As it was midday by then, we were the only people out walking in the blazing sun while the rest of the town relaxed under the cover of awnings or trees. We got a few curious looks, as we were not locals. We were too far from the resort at the end of the island to be wandering in on foot and we weren’t being followed by an attendant in a golf cart. Several people waved and asked if we were alright. “Yeah, yeah,” we’d say, “We’re just on our way to the store.”

After a while, two guys drinking under a homemade awning waved us over. They introduced themselves as Magic and Ashton and offered us one of what they were having. Well, alright.

Magic is a fisherman in his fifties. Ashton, his twenty-nine-year-old nephew, has one of those instantly likeable faces that just makes you want to smile with him. We ended up spending a couple of hours with them. We looked out over the sun-dappled water and talked about everything from the trivial to the deeply personal. While we were there, we were introduced to every friend or family member that happened by. By the time we resumed our wanderings, two out of every three people we waved to were ones we already knew.

We popped in at the Police Station in the hopes that we could turn the Departure cards from our passports in to them instead of going all of the way to the resort to get to the Immigration office there. Within no time Officer Williams offered to drive us to Immigration in his squad car.

He dropped us off and five seconds later, we were ready for pickup again. We told him we would be happy to return to the Police Station, but he said he didn’t mind dropping us off closer to the boat. We came up with the compromise of being dropped at the restaurant next to Magic and Ashton’s awning. When I stepped out of the police car, Magic asked what is going on.

”I don’t know” I replied and pointed to Officer Williams, “But he REALLY wants to talk to you!!”

Guffaws all around.

The kitchen was closed, so we had no choice but to hang out some more until hunger really did send us looking for an alternative eatery. That gave us the chance to wave at the other half of town along the way.

Magic gave us a warm welcome in this peaceful, friendly, seaside village

Even though we really hadn’t done much, we both agreed our day in West End was our favorite during our whole time in The Bahamas. We weren’t being catered to or being offered any service we could desire for a fee. We were just enjoying the simple and universal pleasure of spending a slow day with nice people while enjoying pretty scenery in fine weather.

Conch gathering (and fishing) and preparing seems to be the main industry in the small town. The catch being delivered to the lager/tourist towns on the Island