Just kidding - at least about selling the boat and buying this home.
Dave says that Barbie lives here. I said that in a way, a Barbie probably does live here.
More repairs. After spending hours trying to get the computer to work with the help of TJ over the phone, it was no use. When we got to Wrightsville Beach, we took it to a computer fix-it shop. Turns out my computer had a virus, big time. Over 100 corrupt files! Took two days, but now it's working fine. Went to Best Buy and bought a new laptop to have as a back-up for the chart-plotter program. Went to West Marine and bought another handheld GPS also as back-up. Reinstalled the programs and now we've just about got it. The refrigerator compressor is out now, but that's another story.
Wrightsville Beach is a nice beach town swarming with lovely bikini-clad women and muscle-y men walking down the streets and fit joggers everywhere, many with baby strollers. The anchorage was pretty good, so it was an OK place to have to spend a couple of days. We also took the bus to Wilmington where we walked along the waterfront. It was here in the warehouse area where, during the Civil War, 21 slaves stole three ships and sailed past a Confederate fort soon to be picked up by Union ships. All 21 joined the Union Army. One, Benjamin Gould, later became a senator. Also the Underground Railroad made a "stop" here "carrying" many slaves to freedom.
On the way to the next anchorage, we were sweating the 65-foot bridges (again!). We radioed C-Gull Seeker who was behind us and asked what his mast height was, which was 55-feet. We explained that our mast was just about 65-feet including antennas. A few minutes later, he radioed back and said that if it were him, he'd cut a few feet off our mast. At that moment, it seemed like a good idea.
Later on, we arrived at a bridge that, according to the guide book, was reported to often have less than 65-feet of clearance. Gigi's Island, who was ahead of us, had overheard the previous mast height conversations so right after they went under, they kindly radioed us to tell us that the marker was a hair over 65 feet, no more. We thanked them and told them we'd inch up and decide whether to try it or not. The tide was coming in, so if we decided to wait, we'd have to wait about 12 hours. We decided to go for it. The antenna didn't even brush the underside of the bridge. WHEW! Afterwards, I told Dave that we'd better not get too cocky about this...
The next stop was Mile Hammock Bay, a rectangular basin near Camp Lejeune Marine base. The guidebook explained that the marines often use the bay for water exercises, "You may be buzzed by a helicopter or inflatables full of well-armed soldiers." It sounded less than tranquil, but there would not be another anchorage for many miles. Back on the radio, C-Gull Seeker, a former Navy submarine man, said that the marines are friendly to the cruisers and they only shoot blanks and that it's a nice place to stop. So we went for it, and we were sure glad we did as it was a very calm anchorage. No buzzing.
"Well-protected anchorage" at Mile Hammock Bay near Camp Lejeune, NC
After carefully plotting the next three tall bridges, which were spread over 23 miles, we jammed to Beaufort, timing all pretty well. Only had to wait a half an hour for one. You would think I'm obsessed with tall bridges. You'd be right. Actually we were enjoying the lovely wetlands along an uninhabited stretch watching ospreys diving and...what's that... a crumpled tank? Check the chart...oh, yea, we're passing the firing range of Camp Lejeune. Beyond that were the occasional homes with long docks extending to the water. As we neared Morehead City and Beaufort, NC (that's /beau/ as in /no/ as opposed to /beau/ as in /you/ as in Beaufort, SC), the area became more populated and the waterway was crazy with small boats, jet-skis, and every type of personal water craft imaginable zipping all around. Ah, yes, Memorial Day weekend. We thought about passing Beaufort because of the madness, but after seven hours, we decided to stop. The anchorage is fairly calm, and it's easy to dinghy over to the public dock. Beaufort is another quaint town with a coffee shop that reminds us of the Aqus Cafe in Petaluma - artsy, yummy fare, live music - AND they offer the best brownies that Dave and I have ever had in our lives, hands down.
We gave our broker, John Nelson, a call to say hello as this is his hometown. Yesterday morning we met John - for me, the first time in person. What a genuinely nice fellow. He drove us around to show us the lay of the land and even offered up a car to borrow, should we need it for provisions.
Later on, while sitting on a bench in the shade, we saw a couple nearby, the man was calling a taxi. I recognized the voice - C-Gull Seeker! We chatted with Kathy and Mike and exchanged boat cards. Kathy offered to share the taxi to the grocery store with us, so off we went to Lion King. Afterwards, back on the boat, we called Mike who gave us some ideas to try with the refrigerator compressor, but no luck. Looks like it's another repairman to the rescue, we hope.
Oh, and on Saturday night we sat out in the cockpit and enjoyed the mid-seventies breeze while watching the Memorial Day fireworks over Beaufort. Everything put into perspective again.
Dave with C-Gull Seeker behind him and Linda sporting her "Homage to Bob Dylan's 70th Birthday" hairdo.
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