November 4, 2008 Email from Mark

hi everyone,
Apologies for the poor spelling in the earlier missives. Using spell check now!
Mark

October 30, 2008
The morning’s weather indicated 10-15 knot winds and 4-6 foot waves out of the North so I made the decision to head out of Beufort (pronounced Bow-fort) inlet and entered the Atlantic around 1000. The day was bright sunshine and with the wind off my stern quarter from the NW. The waves were 3-4 feet so the boat was yawing a bit with the occasional big wave. I had planned to at the very least do one night offshore with the objective of making Charleston, SC with an alternate objective of Winyah Bay if conditions were too much. The day was kept busy preparing for the night passage and trying to get as much sleep in before dark. Had a hit on the fishing line and like the fish tale goes is was big. Tried to bring it in but in the interval of pointing to wind to stop the boat, while reeling, it took off with the lure. I did get a look at it as it got close to the boat and it was definitely big as a Winnebago. Getting some nap time in was proving difficult, with the pitching of the boat from the periodic swells that would toss the boat around. The tiller pilot, my right hand when solo sailing, was having difficulty, especially trying to compensate for the tendency of the Natie M to want to come about at the bottom of a wave trough. I could tell that I would have to spend a lot of time at the helm to relieve the excessive loading on the unit.

October 31, 2008
The night sky was incredible, with the new moon it was just a sky packed with the innumerable stars, un-obscured by the artificial lights of the coast. I’m always in awe of the night sky when away from the shore. My concern about the tiller pilot proved prophetic, for as night came the wind and waves increased along with a temperature drop and around 3 am on Saturday morning it gave out making a very unsettling screeching noise in its death throughs. Very appropriate for Halloween you might think. Scared the hell out of me when it happened though as it was not as reassuring sound. What followed was 6 hours of helm duty until I was able to configure a system of tethering the helm with the use of my extensive collection of bungee cords I had collected while riding my bike to work. With a little tweaking of the sale trim and adjusting the tension of the spider web of bungee cords I was able to make the boat hold to a course within 20 or so degrees of the rhumb line or desired course. This solution came in the knick of time because I was one tired sailor. Just the ability to get a nap of a half hour or so really helps. The waves and the wind were easing a bit but still blowing pretty steady. I estimate my average speed was around 5-1/2 knots, more or less on course. I had the main with a reef and the 110 genny up most of the night and morning. The sun didn’t come up too early that Saturday and when it did the temperature started to come out of the damp and cold range. It turned into a beautiful day out on the ocean and though tired it was exhilarating to be out of site of land with the blue green water with only the occasional clump of Sargasso weed floating by. I was around 25 to 30 miles offshore, completely out of site land, only the occasional sail in the distance. During the night I listened to different crews chat on the VHF and though I didn’t join in the conversation it was nice to know someone else was out there. I ate some more of the huge pot of beans and rice that I had prepared the day before. An occasional large wave sometimes would suddenly pick up the stern the boat would surf down the face, throwing off the delicate balance of bungee steering. Usually it would be a problem, but this time the boom slammed hard over in an accidental jibe. I had been using a preventer to do just as the name implies but had neglected to secure it at the last jibe. The tension and exhaustion suddenly came to a head and I let out some expletives that I will spare you in this narrative. I was pissed. Just as my brief tirade was reaching it climax I was suddenly struck dumb by the vision of a dolphin leaping out of the water 15 feet of my port beam, asking if he could interest me in some life insurance. Okay, that last part was hallucination. It was nevertheless such a beautiful vision as the dolphin easily cleared it entire body out of the water and dove back in with barely a splash. The appearance of the rest of the pod all around the Natie M. convinced me that it was not a hallucination, after all and I started to whistle and bang on the hull, which someone had once told me dolphins respond. The site was overwhelming, like having unexpected visitors or friends show up after a long time alone. After a minute or so they disappeared and I soon discovered several of them had moved to the bow where they crossed to and fro just in front of the boat. I continued my lunatic attempts at interspecies communication and in response they started slapping their tails on the surface of the water and then looking sideways up at me. It was an experience that I will not ever forget. Just as suddenly as they appeared, they disappeared and I went back to the cockpit, alone, to revel in the experience.
The rest of the day I made my way south, miles offshore in the general direction of Charleston, but also with the eye of maybe making for Winyah Bay as an alternate destination. By dusk it was obvious that if I were to go in to shore at Winyah I would be doing so with some serious current on my nose and in the dark. I opted for hoving to and getting an hour of rest below before complete darkness. Feeling little rested I resumed course for Charleston. The wind was still coming out of the North at 10-15 but the waves were not as steep as the night before or maybe I just got used to them. The bungee system worked reasonably well, and over the course of the night I jibed my way, well offshore, towards land again.

November 1, 2008
By 3 am I was off of Cape Romain (32o 58.971N, 78o48.401W), the last serious navigational obstical before Charleston along the coastal route. With the coming of dawn I could see the buildings and big suspension bridge of Charleston. At 1100 hours, accompanied by a container ship, I entered Charleston Harbor. Did a “cruise by” of Charleston water front, reviewing the antebellum architecture of the old houses along the shore and even more exciting the first sighting of serious palm tree concentrations. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and once again it was warm. I had thought of spending some time in Charleston, but decided to reenter the intercoastal and continue south. The weather forecast was still indicating that my weather window would be closing soon and that it would be prudent to return to the “ditch”. By 1500 I was anchored behind an little island on Wappoo Creek.

November 2, 2008
The day was mostly one of motoring, though I managed to fly the genoa most of the day with the wind at my back. The forecasted wet weather had arrived during the night before I got underway at dawn in a fine misty rain and cool overcast. The full genoa allowed me to run the motor at a considerably lower RPM and save some gas. The scenery was dominated by numerous river confluences and miles of salt water march all around. I had to concentrate on the channel markers, having briefly run aground while chatting on the phone and steering at the sometime the day before. I made a stop off of the ICW on Mosquito Creek (a misnomer, no mosquitoes, just a bazillion noseeums). Got some local fishing tips from the guy at the counter, a deal on some stainless steel anchor chain, and gas and ice. Had thought of anchoring there for the night before making the last 15 miles to Beufort SC, but the clouds of noseeums quickly dissuaded me of the notion. Made another 5 miles to a remote anchorage on Parrot Creek, surrounded by marsh and reasonably sheltered, where I cooked my shrimp and feasted before turning in.

November 3, 2008
Up and underway at dawn and by noon was anchored off of Beufort S.C. Wonderful anchorage right off the Municipal marina. Hot Shower for a $1, Laundromat, and they sell beer! Certain towns I’m familiar with could take a lesson. I will be spending two days here waiting for a replacement autopilot to be delivered on Tuesday. In the meantime I did chores, secured provisions and generally enjoyed this lovely town. The waterfront area is beautiful with lots of live oaks with Spanish moss dripping from them. Of course the palm trees have become endemic to the scenery now and though overcast I’m happy to say I’m back in shorts. The neighborhoods are a combination of little cottages surrounded by large trees whose canopies overhang the streets. Some of the historic buildings and manor houses are all in good shape, large antebellum homes, many of which predate the civil war. I was told a lot of the older homes and buildings were spared the Union Army’s urban renewal efforts of the civil war by virtue of being occupied early on. Ran into some of the other cruisers as they came into the docks or anchorage. They were wondering what happened to the solo sailor in the “little” blue boat. Harrumph! Little indeed!