Beaufort to Little Alligator River, North Carolina

Charleston park

07.13.13 

We had a good and uneventful overnight passage from Charleston through Masonboro Inlet to Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina.  We’d originally planned on doing two days up the ICW to Georgetown, then out in the Atlantic directly to Beaufort, but on Saturday, while doing the pre-start-up checks, I found that the knob for the gear lube dipstick was broken.  Someone (me) had apparently over-tightened it and part of it was broken and stuck inside.  (I know, Darrell.  I know.  Don’t over-tighten.)  Unsure of how to get that piece out without dropping orange plastic bits into the gear area, we decided to call someone for help and figured we would have to wait until Monday.  The City Marina suggested for weekend help that we call Dave from Moxy Marine Services, who lives with his wife on their sailboat just a few docks over from where we were docked.  I called and he was able to come right away.  He got the piece out, and he called a friend who has spare parts and was able to find us a used dipstick, which normally sells for $120(!) for a more reasonable $40.  So by the end of the day, we were set to go again. 

In rechecking the weather, we decided to go to Plan B and do our overnight to Wrightsville Beach and then go up the ICW two days to Beaufort.  This ended up working well.  The waves had come down from 4-5 feet to 2-3 feet.  This also meant that the wind had come down to 10-15 knots, rather light, but we were able to sail at least one third of the way and motor sailed the rest.  And no precipitation is always a plus.  We had to go a long way around Frying Pan Shoals off of Cape Fear, but we were glad that we did this trip because we covered a lot of miles northward in one hop.

 

After anchoring in Wrightsville Beach, a family beach town we’d visited on foot on our last visit, we ate supper, went to bed early and slept well.  We left early the next morning to time our low tide passing under a 65-foot fixed bridge and headed for Mile Hammock Bay in Camp Lejeune, a US Marine Corps Base.  Once we passed the bridge later in the morning, we raised the jib and sailed the rest of the day with the current helping us out the entire way doing 4.0 to 4.5 knots.  It was soooo quiet and peaceful.  We were delighted.  We anchored at Camp Lejeune where the helicopter/planes were practicing until about 10:00 at night.  It was somewhat loud, but we didn’t mind and were grateful that the camp provides a protected little anchorage for us cruisers. 

 

Sailing along on the river

Happy face house

Rising early again the next morning, we put the pedal to the metal to get under the first 65-foot bridge while it was still a fairly low, though rising, tide.  No problema.  After that, we jib-sailed, again with the current in our favor, slowly for the next 20 miles.  We wanted to allow the high tide to peak, then fall low enough so we would be able to cross under the next 65-foot bridge.  We had another lovely, lazy sail till mid-afternoon.  We arrived at the Atlantic Beach Bridge just before 2:00.  I’d just read in our guide book that several cruisers had reported that the bridge does not really provide 65 feet of clearance at high tide.  We’d been under it twice before with no problems, but reading this was a bit unsettling, especially because even though we’d been sailing slowly, we arrived earlier than I’d wanted. 

As we approached, I looked through the binoculars at the tide board at the base of the bridge…barely at 65 feet.  At this time also, three power boats were zooming in and would pass us at the same time making wakes that could bounce our mast right into the underneath side of the bridge.  “No!  Come about!”  We turned the boat around and decided to wait an hour.  We slowly sailed up current…one knot, while boats zipped past, probably wondering what in the heck we were doing.  Right at that time, Jessica phoned to wish Dave a happy birthday.  Perfect timing!  After the call we made another pass in front of the tide board.  Only a bit over 65 feet, so we delayed awhile longer and took another lap upstream.  At 3:15, we found there to be enough clearance at 65.5ish, so under we went.  No problem, but it was close.  The timing of low tide is not an exact science, so we’re glad for the bridges that have tide boards as not all do.

Beaufort pirate ship!

The anchorage in Beaufort is always crowded and this time was no different.  It took quite a while to find a good spot to anchor.  By the time we settled in, it was nearly 7:00, and between worrying about the 65-foot bridge and finding a place to anchor, we were worn out.   But, being that it was Dave’s birthday, we found our second wind, dropped the dinghy and rowed over to the dock.  We saw a shaggy though friendly looking sailor at the marina and asked if we could tie our dinghy next to his boat so we didn’t have to row all the way to the dinghy dock.  He obliged.  I wish I’d gotten a photo of him because he is the quintessential single-hander dude.  Slightly grizzled, with a black bandana attempting to hold back sun-bleached scruffy dark curls (and conceal a receding hairline), tattoos covering his tanned arms, chest and back, a slight paunch, a few gray hairs and laugh lines edging dark though merry eyes, dressed in dirty cut offs.  “My name is Temple,” he said in his Florida drawl as we shook each other’s hands.  He’s sailed his Morgan sloop up the East Coast solo.  He’d just come in from two nights out and got hammered by 65-knot winds and eight-foot seas, 60 miles out.  (Glad we missed that fun!)  He said his cabin looked as if someone had gone below and just threw things all over, even into the engine compartment, but he was pleased at how White Pearl had handled the rolling seas.  He has a friend in Rhode Island who wants him to visit, but Temple’s not sure about spending the winter there because he really doesn’t like the cold.  We emphasized that it will, indeed, be cold in Rhode Island in the winter.  It’s funny that he’s not sure if he wants to go there, but he’s already about halfway there!  What a character.  Maybe we’ll cross paths with White Pearl again. 

1709 home, the oldest in Beaufort

Dave and I had a nice dinner at the Dock House where there was no doubt that we were in the south.  Dave had flounder – a mound of flounder – which was deep fried and came with French fries and a scoop of shredded cabbage with a sweet mayo dressing.  I had shrimp and grits and, man, was it spicy but delicious.  Between my dish and the bloody Mary, my lips were burning!  But it was a good burn.

In Beaufort we visited the Old Burying Grounds, a place we’d missed on the two previous visits.  It is a fascinating graveyard going back to the Revolutionary War period.  Perhaps the most unusual was one grave that was covered with toys and trinkets.  The story is that in the mid-1700s, an English family, including an infant daughter came to Beaufort.  When the girl was much older, she had a desire to see her homeland and persuaded her mother to allow her father, a sea captain, to take her.  The father promised the mother that he would return the daughter safely.  The girl enjoyed her visit to London but died on the voyage home.  She would have been buried at sea, but her father could not bear to break his promise.  He purchased a barrel of rum from the captain, placed her body in it and brought it to Beaufort for burial. 

Old Burying Ground

Rum girl grave

There were many intriguing stories from the Revolutionary and Civil Wars, and tales of the seas abounded.  One inscription on the grave of a sea captain who died in 1879 was written:

The form that fills this silent grave

Once tossed on ocean’s rolling wave,

But in a port securely fast,

He’s dropped his anchor here at last.

 

We also visited the Watercraft Center.  It is here that wooden boats are restored and built.  Classes are given, as well.  Apparently this place is also affectionately known as “day care for senior guys”.

It rained a lot while we were in Beaufort, so we were glad to be in a calm anchorage.    On Sunday morning, we left for Oriental, just over 20 miles away.  We’d left early to pass under another 65-foot bridge at low tide, which worked out well.  We were able to get a little sailing in again, which was great.  It was fairly blustery and choppy inside Oriental Harbor, and the best place to anchor was rather close to the docks of the marina, so we stayed aboard until about 5:00 when things calmed a bit.  Oriental is a sweet little town that supports a theater for local productions.  We walked to the grocery store and had dinner at the local marina…deep fried (of course) cod, corn on the cob, garlic mashed potatoes.   Delish.  We topped it off with ice cream from the local coffee house, The Bean, and then a walk around town.

We left early on Monday, and motored in choppy seas into the wind down the Neuse River and into the Pamlico Sound.  Once we turned the corner back up into the canal into the Pamlico and Pungo Rivers, things smoothed out a bit and we were able to sail, though slowly, in light airs.  We dropped the hook in an anchorage that was new to us up Pungo Creek.  It was serene and beautiful.  Only one other boat, a catamaran, was there.  The sunset seemed to last forever and was spectacular. 

Along the peaceful Pungo River

This morning we left the clam of the Pungo Creek anchorage to have our heartbeat quicken just a couple of miles up the Alligator River – Pungo River Canal as we neared the Wilkerson Bridge, which is just 64 feet tall.  The water level board showed 64 feet and change.  Hmm…We’d been under it twice, so we knew it was possible.  Dave slowed Wayward Wind way down.  Here we go…Ting…Ting.  Our antenna just kissed the first and third girders.  Whew!  That is the last of the “iffy” bridges.  Only four more 65-footers to go before Norfolk, in addition to the seven opening bridges and one lock.  Keeps you on your toes.

A boat we passed anchored out along the way

Tonight we are relaxing at a calm anchorage on the Little Alligator River.  It is odd because it is so open, but the wind is almost non-existent, so it should be a calm night.  We had to dodge numerous fish traps to get in, but it was worth it.  Very peaceful.  Tomorrow we’ll cross the Albemarle Sound and the next day, if all goes well, we’ll be in Norfolk at the south end of the Chesapeake.  Dave tells me I need to come up to the cockpit to see the sunset.  And I always do what Dave tells me to do!