1800 Days – Seg. 25, Ch. 6, Pg. 12-21

    It is Sunday, the twenty-ninth day of December, but as I step off the boat onto the dock into the early morning air I sense a smell and a warmth and a softness as in spring. I can see no wild horses on Carrot Island across the creek but the scene is one of surpassing beauty with absolutely calm water reflecting like a mirror the masts of the sailboats at anchor. I fetch the morning paper from the store on Front Street, but by the time I return to the boat I have already lost interest in conforming to our usual Sunday morning routine of reading the paper over Bloody Marys followed by a large brunch of an omelet, fried potatoes and perhaps some fish. I say to Nancy that, if we really want to visit Shackleford, this may be the day to do it.

    Yet we delay and peruse the paper. The small public dock on the beach at Shackleford is five miles away, almost an hour of travel if there is no opposing tidal current at the speed our stubby little inflatable can travel with its 3.5 hp motor. We know how quickly the weather can change on the coast and we want to make sure we have a safe and comfortable outing. As we leaf through the paper we listen to the weather forecast on the VHF radio and we monitor the radio talk among the fishing boats out on the ocean. We had thought about and talked about this excursion so many times that we are now very excited to think that we may actually be able to go.

    After more than an hour conditions still seem perfect and we begin our preparations. I climb up to the bridge to get the various items we will need: the paddles, a floatation cushion, the spare gasoline container, the canvas bag containing our folding anchor and line, our floating water-proof bag that we use to carry essential items such as a small tool kit, a spare sparkplug for the motor, and a patch kit for the inflatable. In the cabin where Nancy is packing our lunch in the small cooler, I collect other items: a camera, our portable VHF radio, some sweaters, a small hand-held compass that I hang around my neck. I take one last look at the chart that is open on the salon table, noting the two navigational markers, set on pilings, that will guide our way across Back Sound: the "59" marker near where Taylor Creek empties out into the mouth of the North River, and the "NR" marker near the shore of Shackleford Banks where we will land. They are over a mile apart and I measure and make note of the compass bearing between the two.

    Finally all is ready and we lower Recess into the water and load our things. I mount the small outboard. It starts with the first pull of the rope. It is 10:15 a.m. and we are on our way. We feel exhilarated.

    There is a strong flood tide running and we ride the swift current down Taylor Creek toward its junction with the North River about three miles away. Even this close to the cold water the air is warm and there is no need for our sweaters. The creek gradually narrows as we continue and there seems to be a slight haze in the air. Near the mouth of the creek we pass the menhaden processing factory and come abreast of their two large fishing vessels. We are surprised and very pleased to see that, on the ships and adjacent docks, there are many birds: gulls and cormorants and pelicans, white egrets and great blue herons perched precariously and improbably on the rigging, ibis and night herons in the nearby trees. After the factory we are overtaken by a large motor yacht that, with great consideration, passes us very slowly leaving no wake. We follow this boat through the red and green channel markers at the mouth of the creek, out into the waters of Back Sound and the mouth of the North River.

    I turn Recess to the south to head across Back Sound toward the beach on Shackleford, still following the motor yacht that is slowly leaving us behind. It is evident that what was haze in the narrow confines of Taylor Creek, is fog out on the waters of Back Sound. We pass marker "59" but I can not see either marker "NR" or the shore of Shackleford Banks through the fog. I remove the compass from my neck, place it on the seat so I can see it easily, and set our course according to the compass bearing I noted from the chart. The motor yacht we are following seems to be heading in the same direction but gradually it disappears into the fog. Now we see nothing, even with the binoculars, no markers, no boats, no shoreline, just a uniform white mist, but we can distinguish the outline of the sun overhead. It seems that the fog is a low layer just over the water and we hope it will soon lift. I intentionally alter our course to point more directly to the shore of Shackleford, reasoning that once we find the shore we can follow it to our planned landing spot on the beach at the Park Service jetty. But for the hum of the small outboard all is quiet and mysterious. I find the fog strangely disorienting and I have to keep looking at the compass to keep ourselves from drifting off course. Suddenly we see the bottom about five feet below us and then Nancy exclaims that she can make out the faint shoreline through the binoculars. We go in close to shore, careful of the depth, and travel for about a half mile until we find the Park Service jetty and picnic area. We beach Recess, step out onto the hard packed sand and tie our dinghy securely well up on the beach. It has taken us a little over an hour to make the trip. Now that we are on Shackleford we are very excited and not a little relieved.

Looking Across Back Sound from the Shackleford Dock Area

The Distant Fog Obscures the Town of Beaufort

    We feel famished. What is it about the beach, we say, that always makes you hungry? We decide to use the available picnic table and eat an early lunch before setting out across the island. The fog has become thinner and we can feel the welcome warmth of the sun. There is the smell of the sea and the faint sound of the breakers on the ocean beach a half mile away across the island. As we eat the fog becomes rapidly less dense and then dramatically lifts completely, revealing the "NR" marker less than a half mile off the beach, the shores of Carrot Island and the water tower and taller buildings of the town of Beaufort. All seems safe and secure.

Following A Horse Path Through The Dunes

    After lunch we climb the dunes just behind the beach and strike out across the island toward the ocean, but before we leave I take a compass bearing on the "NR" marker just in case. The interior of the island is flat with many paths and, everywhere, droppings from the horses. We pass a fenced-off area with a sign that tells us it is a research area used by the National Park Service to determine the effects of grazing by the wild horses. Beyond this area across the flats there is another set of dunes. As we approach, trudging along the sandy path, we see two horses peacefully grazing between two low hills. We walk more quietly, directly toward the horses, trying to get close enough for a good photograph. Then a colt appears from behind the dune. Now we are quite close, taking some photographs, the horses watching us warily. Then with a snort they are gone. No longer quiet, we exclaim in our excitement and we feel privileged to have had this encounter.

A Banker Pony In The Dunes

    We climb up over the dunes and the ocean beach appears suddenly as we round a hill, surprising us, making me almost catch my breath at its beauty and seeming isolation. It is broad, of moderate slope, and disappears mysteriously into the mist on either side of us. There is no one in sight. There is a fog bank over the ocean beyond the breaker line and we pause to watch it and to express our concern. Before we walk up the beach we plant a stick in the sand to mark our path back through the dunes.

    We walk slowly, examining the thousands of shells collected along the beach in two distinct lines. Never has either of us encountered a beach with this number and variety of shells. We find clam, mussel and oyster shells, the conch-like shells of the whelks, moon snail shells, olive and slipper shells, the large and thin fan-like pen shells, and others we cannot name. This is the dream of my childhood, Nancy says, and instructs me to only collect the perfect ones. We slowly start to fill the large plastic Ziploc bags we have brought. We become aware of the sound of boat engines and we look out over the ocean to see two small open fishing boats running parallel to the beach at the edge of the fog bank, which seems nearer than before. Why does anyone risk fishing from an open boat on the ocean in such a fog, I ask Nancy. The boats vanish from sight and the sound of their engines is lost in the sound of the surf.

The Shells On Shackleford Beach

    After a moderate distance, perhaps a quarter mile, we come upon a sand spit where there is a gathering of a large number of gulls. As we approach they do not fly but rather walk out of our way, reluctantly it seems. Where they were gathered we see a lone gull floating in the shallow water, flapping one wing tiredly and sporadically as it is washed back and forth in the surf. Evidently it can neither fly or swim or walk due to injury or sickness. There is sadness here and we understand we are watching a small tragedy slowly unfold.

    When we look up from the gull we realize the fog has gradually moved in to the beach and a slight but very cool breeze is now blowing from the ocean. The beach is enveloped in mist and our visibility is much less than it was when we began our walk. We turn and retrace our steps. The beach seems now even more remote and mysterious, even thrilling, with the breakers rolling onto the sand out of a white nothingness. By the time we come upon the stick that we had planted in the sand the fog is very dense. Visibility is much less than a hundred yards. We had better go back, I say to Nancy, and we start off through the dunes.

Fog Coming In To The Shackleford Beach

    As we recross the island we walk slowly and quietly. Several times we have to pause and decide on which path to take in the fog. I know that Nancy is worried, as I am, about what the conditions will be when we arrive at our dinghy on the beach of Back Sound. As we near the other side of the island the dunes materialize out of the mist and we see a group of at least ten wild horses standing quietly in the mist off to the side of the path. They are silent and motionless and wary but seemingly unafraid. And then they are gone. We know that we have had a moment of extraordinary enchantment.

    We come through the dunes to our dinghy on the beach and are dismayed to see dense fog over the waters of the sound. The "NR" marker is no longer visible. Neither is the opposite shoreline. Nancy asks what are we going to do, and we talk about our alternatives. It is late in the afternoon. Only about three hours of daylight remain. If we stay on the beach waiting for the fog to lift we may well be forced to spend a long, cold, hungry night on the island. We agree to leave immediately steering by the compass and hoping for the visibility to improve. We carry Recess back in the water, fill the gas tank of the outboard, and strike out for the "NR" marker using the bearing I had previously determined.

    I am timing our travel across the water. Ten minutes go by, then fifteen, and I know that we have missed the "NR" marker. I tell Nancy and then turn the dinghy onto the bearing for the "59" marker near the mouth of Taylor Creek. There is a strong ebb tide running across our path and I know that, even if I maintain our compass course perfectly, we can miss our destination by a wide margin due to being swept to the side by the cross current. I turn the nose of the dinghy somewhat into the current, hoping to compensate for the side-wise drift, but I know this can only be a very rough correction.

    We stare blindly into the fog as the motor drones on, louder now that I have increased the throttle to fight against the strong current. The fog is thick. There is no hint of sunlight. We are in our own gray world at the center of a bubble of visibility surrounded by a pool of flat dark water. I watch the compass constantly as we motor onward, without talk.

    Amid the course changes and corrections I have become confused about the elapsed time, but it seems that we are traveling for an inordinately long time. Now we talk. Are we lost? Yes. Should we anchor? - no, because another boat might run into us in the fog. Should we call the Coast Guard on the VHF? - no, because they would not be able to find us even if they could send a boat. Should we call a mayday? - no, because our lives are not in immediate danger. Our greatest danger, we agree, is missing our target to the right, because then we would enter the main body of the North River and become helplessly lost in its maze of small islands and shoals. If we miss our target to the left we should run into the south shore of Carrot Island, we say, and we may then be able to follow its shoreline to the mouth of Taylor Creek if we don't get caught in some blind channel of deeper water.

    I change course again, turning Recess more to the left, hoping that we will eventually find the shore. It happens suddenly. There's the bottom, Nancy yells, and I feel the outboard strike the bottom. Quickly I shut down the motor and tilt it on the transom to bring it clear. Although there is no visible shoreline we are in very shallow water, which is racing past us at an alarming speed. We use our paddles to push Recess back into deeper water. Quickly I lower the motor and pull on the starter rope. I feel a very brief moment of panic as I wonder what we will do if the outboard fails to start. But the motor comes to life on the first pull. I steer out into the deeper water and then set our course on the original bearing for a while, and then I gradually turn to the left again, both of us staring intently into the water. The bottom looms up at us yet again as we enter the shallows, and I repeat the whole procedure. After another encounter with the shallows I try to keep us in the deeper water for a longer time. And then we see the faint outline of a pole stuck in the water. I steer directly toward it and find that it is our long sought marker "59." We yell and cheer. After a short distance, though marker "59" is now somewhere behind us lost in the fog, we enter the mouth of Taylor Creek.

    We are not merely relieved, we are exultant. We laugh and talk and congratulate ourselves. I steer the dinghy close to the north shore finding it reassuring to be so close to land. The fog is so thick that the opposite shore is merely a shadow though it is less than fifty yards away. The mist is palpable. Our hair and eyebrows are wet and dripping. We don our sweaters and find comfort in their warmth.

    Eventually we reach the marina and enter the small boat basin when it is almost dark. We tie Recess to the swim platform and enter the familiar cabin of Summer School. What great feelings of relief and contentment we have as we sip our hot sweet tea. We listen to the VHF radio, to the Coast Guard replies to the various requests for help. There is a boat lost on Back Sound trying to find a marina on Harkers Island. There is a boat out in the ocean, using its radar in an attempt to locate Beaufort Inlet. Amid the radio traffic the Coast Guard announces that the search for the two Harkers Island fishermen, missing since the day before, has been discontinued because their bodies had been found south of the inlet. Now we understand the reason for the two small open boats we saw cruising the shore of Shackleford through the fog. I think of the gull dying slowly in the surf. We sip our tea and feel grateful for each other and all that we have.

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1800 Days – Seg. 24, Ch. 6, Pg. 6-12

    The North Carolina coast in the area of Beaufort and Morehead City runs essentially east-west. Beyond Morehead City the coast begins a very gradual turn to the south, while east of Beaufort the coast bends toward the south for a short distance until Cape Lookout is reached, and then continues in a northeasterly direction toward Cape Hatteras. Beaufort itself is situated on a fairly narrow neck of land between the North River to the east and the Newport River on the west, across which lies Morehead City.

    As in many places this coast is comprised of narrow barrier islands separated from the mainland by shallow bodies of water here called sounds. Across from Morehead City and extending to the west for about 25 miles is the barrier island of Bogue Banks, separated from the mainland by Bogue Sound; Bogue Banks is home to the ocean front beach resorts of Atlantic Beach, Pine Knoll Shores and Emerald Isle among others. On the other hand, across from Beaufort and extending to the east for almost 10 miles is the barrier island of Shackleford Banks, separated from the mainland by Back Sound; in contrast to Bogue Banks, Shackleford Banks is undeveloped and home to yet another herd of wild horses. Between Shackleford Banks and Bogue Banks is Beaufort Inlet, the northern most of only three reliable all-weather inlets on the entire North Caroline Coast. (The other two are the mouth of the Cape Fear River and Masonboro Inlet near Wrightsville Beach.) Because of this inlet Beaufort is sometimes known as "The Gateway to the Caribbean" since many southbound boaters leave the coast through Beaufort Inlet for open ocean cruises directly to the Bahamas and onward into the Caribbean. (Many boaters follow the ICW to Beaufort before going off-shore through Beaufort Inlet; in this way they avoid going around Cape Hatteras and navigating through the infamous shoals that extend almost to the Gulf Stream.)

    For travelers on land the main highway in the area is Highway 70. From Beaufort you can take this highway west across the Newport River into Morehead City, and then northwest for 35 miles to New Bern before it heads into the interior of North Carolina. To the east of Beaufort, Highway 70 curves somewhat to the north and then runs northeast through the neck of land that lies roughly between the lower Neuse River to the north and Core Sound on the southerly side. The communities along this section of the highway, which include Harkers Island (accessible by side road and bridge), Sealevel and Atlantic among others, are sometimes known collectively as "Downeast North Carolina." Eventually Highway 70 reaches land's end at Cedar Island where you can take a ferry across Pamlico Sound to Ocracoke Island.

    We found this whole difficult-to-describe complex of land and water around Beaufort, with the islands and rivers and sounds, to be almost endlessly fascinating during our winter's stay, and we would often take car trips to explore places of particular interest. But mostly we explored the town of Beaufort itself, slowly and by foot.

The Carteret County Library

    The central area of town is small, only about three to four blocks square, and it makes for delightful walking in almost any weather. Front Street along Taylor Creek is home to most of the businesses including Clawson's Restaurant, the Spouter Inn, Beaufort Marine Discount, the Dock House Restaurant and, of course, Beaufort Docks. For a number of blocks on Front Street there is a boardwalk bordering the creek that is especially inviting to walkers. The main intersecting street is Turner Street down which are several bed-and-breakfast inns, the Beaufort Historic Site, and the Carteret County Library. The North Carolina Maritime museum is at the intersection of Turner and Front Streets. Ann and Broad Streets run north of Front Street and parallel to it. These streets provide shaded walks by fine old houses, and a historic cemetery named the Old Burying Ground. Altogether, this is the small area where we spent most of our time during our winter's stay.

A Crape Myrtle Tree in Winter

The Old Burying Ground

**********

    "What do you do with all your time?" "There's nothing going on in Beaufort during the winter; what do you do?" "How do you live?" "Aren't you bored with nothing to do?" On more than a few occasions we were asked these and similar questions, by friends from our previous lives, by people wandering the docks who would sometimes strike up conversations with us, by acquaintances we met through our friendship with Earl and Ann. And we found that it was not easy to explain in any reasonably concise way how our lives were so rich and full, and, though not without problems, so varied and satisfying and so endlessly interesting.

    It is true that the nature of Beaufort changed from that of the summer resort as winter set in. When we took up our residence in mid-November the southern boat migration was still in evidence though it was certainly different and diminished from that which we observed in mid-October. At that time, the marina filled up every night with large yachts including some in the megayacht category, more than a hundred feet in length and worth millions. And at that time there were still significant numbers of tourists who would walk the docks and generally enjoy the Beaufort waterfront. By mid-November there were not nearly as many boats coming into the marina at the end of the day, and these were generally much smaller, mainly sailboats, and their owners not nearly so affluent. There were also fewer visitors or tourists along Front Street and walking the docks. By mid-December the waterfront area of the town was, if not deserted, certainly very sparsely populated and in some senses, shut down. There were no more migrating boaters except for the rare straggler. Some restaurants, such as Harpoon Willie's and the Front Street Grill, had already closed for the winter season, while others, such as the Beaufort Grocery Company and the Finz Grill, posted signs that they would close in January. But we welcomed these changes; we especially rejoiced when the Beaufort House Restaurant and Bar closed because this establishment was near us on the dock and it played excessively loud music well into the nights on weekends. Enough good restaurants, particularly Clausen's and the Spouter Inn, remained open to satisfy our cravings. Furthermore the town became quieter and seemingly more private as winter wore on, though a number of special events still took place.

    Onboard our boat we had our writing and reading, our talk and our music. I would spend some part of almost every morning writing in our office in the forward cabin, working on Lessons from Summer School, seeing portions of this project slowly, frequently painfully take form. Nancy would also devote some of her time to writing. She had already enjoyed considerable success in publishing short articles for the magazine, Motor Boating & Sailing, and she was working on longer pieces that she would eventually publish in Living Aboard and Coastal Cruising magazines. Within the first week of our residence in Beaufort we joined the Carteret County Library, which we found unusually well-stocked for a town of this size. Each of us always had one or more books on the go; we would read at odd times during the day and always some part of every night, and soft music from our tape player often filled the cabin. And we talked - of what we were trying to write, what we wanted to do to the boat to improve it, where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see, what books we were reading and how we felt about them. And frequently the cabin resonated with the sounds of our laughter.

    During the afternoons we often took long walks throughout the town. We would visit the shops in the business district along Front Street and sometimes stop at the maritime museum or the library. We liked to walk along Ann Street and view the old stately homes and we enjoyed examining The Old Burying Ground located there. We especially liked the beauty and grace of the winter-time crape myrtle trees that lined this street. The eastern section of Front Street beyond Beaufort Docks was also frequently included in our walks. There was a good sidewalk here that took us along the shore of Taylor Creek, opposite stately homes that frequently had their own private docks. There was also a town dinghy dock provided for the convenience of the anchored boats. We especially delighted in the wildlife, not only the wild horses across the creek on Carrot Island, but also the pelicans and herons and ducks in the shallows, and the dolphins that frequently swam in the creek.

    Just the business of living occupied a significant amount of time. Once a week we got our mail and there were always bills and other matters of business to tend to. And about once a week Nancy would fetch the dock cart from the storage area in the bridge, load it with laundry and roll it down the dock and across Front Street to the neighborhood laundromat. And there were always maintenance and upkeep chores: oil the heads, exercise the seacocks, run the engines, clean the bilge, wash the accumulated salt off the boat, service the car, dust and vacuum, adjust the lines and fenders. We spent considerable time grocery shopping, not only at the large supermarkets out on Highway 70, but also at smaller neighborhood specialty markets, especially the Ottis Seafood Market in Morehead City where we delighted in fresh shrimp, salty oysters, grouper, flounder, swordfish, tuna, etc. We made celebrations of our dinner-time meals, always eaten at our small salon table surrounded by the glowing teak of our cabin, with candlelight and wine and music, usually classical baroque or soft vocal jazz. Almost always we used more than two hours in the preparation and consumption of these wonderful meals during the dark winter evenings.

    After dinner we would frequently take a walk through the marina and on the boardwalk along the waterfront. These walks are most memorable, especially those taken during the coldest and the darkest days in January when the docks and the town streets were essentially deserted and the vacant boats in their slips seemed to have a mysterious, waiting quality. We discovered that night herons would come into the marina after dark and perch on the moored boats, on their rails, in their rigging, even on their dock lines. These large hunch-shouldered birds would balance on their perches absolutely silent and motionless, watching with great intensity some patch of dark water, waiting to pounce. We made a game out of learning to spot them in the dim light of the docks. Some nights we counted more than twenty, yet we never saw one on the docks during daylight hours.

    Aside from our routine activities there were also some special events. On December 4 there was the annual Beaufort Christmas Parade along Front Street, with marching bands, floats, old cars, fire engines, the works. An amazing number of people lined the street for this event. (My notes state that we were told there were over 10,000 spectators, but I still find this difficult to believe.) There was also a Christmas Boat Parade later in the month that began in Morehead City and ended with the decorated boats slowly cruising along the nighttime Beaufort waterfront. There were many spectators for this parade also. Our favorite holiday event was Coastal Carolina Christmas sponsored by the Beaufort Historical site. This special day included open houses at all the bed and breakfast establishments where we stuffed ourselves on cookies, cider and punch.

The Beaufort Christmas Parade

The Christmas Boat Parade

    Of course we also created our own special days. There was an exploration of the "down east" area including a visit to the annual Harkers Island Decoy Festival. There was a long day-trip to Ocracoke Island that included the ferry ride across Pamlico Sound; we longed to make the trip there in our own boat sometime in the future. There was a visit to the North Carolina Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores on Bogue Banks, and there were other trips to this island for walks along the ocean beaches at Fort Macon and Atlantic Beach.

Our Cabin Decorated for Christmas

Atlantic Beach in Wintertime

    But of all of our outings there is one that rises above all others in adventure and meaning, in its indelible quality that remains in my memory. It occurred on one winter's day when we lowered our dinghy into the water and went to Shackleford Banks.

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1800 Days – Seg. 23, Ch. 6, Pg. 1-6

Chapter 6 - Beaufort-By-The-Sea

Small Boat Basin

    The small boat basin at Beaufort Docks was a rectangular arrangement of docks with one long side actually on the shore of the creek. It was attached to the dock on the opposite side, which I will call the deep water dock, by two shorter sections of dock, which thus formed the rectangle that enclosed the basin. The longer docks were divided into slips by finger piers perpendicular to them and extending into the interior of the rectangle so that boats moored in these slips on opposite sides of the basin had their ends facing each other. There was an opening at the east end of the deep water dock to permit boats to enter the basin. With boats filling the slips along each of the long docks there was only about forty feet separating the ends of the boats on opposite sides. There was thus very little clearance for a boat the size of Summer School (34 feet long not counting the swim platform in the rear and the bow pulpit in front) to turn around and enter one of the slips. To make matters even more difficult the slip we were assigned was near the closed end of the basin, which further restricted the room for maneuvering. Owan and a dock hand helped us into the slip, but we knew we were in the slip to stay until we left in the spring when we would also probably need help. Unlike at Summit North or at Rolph's, we would not be taking Summer School out of this difficult slip for short day trips. Any trips on the water that we would make in Beaufort would have to be made in our dinghy, Recess.

Waterfront Park Adjacent to Beaufort Docks  

  Before bringing Summer School into the slip we filled the fuel tanks and added a diesel fuel stabilizer to prevent deterioration of the fuel during our anticipated long period of inactivity. We also filled our water tanks. Although it would have been possible to permanently connect a hose from the dock faucet at our slip to our boat's fresh water input we decided, as usual, not to do that, preferring to use water from our on-board water storage tanks. This would mean that every ten days or so, depending on usage, we would need to fill our water tanks using a hose connected to the dock water supply. However, this procedure kept the water in our storage tanks constantly in use and comparatively fresh, which avoided all the problems associated with stagnant water and tank purification. Additionally, and of course completely unknown to us at the time, this arrangement would be critical to our ability to last through the winter as slip-holders at Beaufort Docks.

    There were some advantages to knowing that our boat would be semi-permanently moored in the slip until we left, as we then planned, at the end of the winter season, five months away in the middle of April. As at Rolph's, Beaufort Docks was built with a system of fixed, not floating, docks, which meant that boats would rise and fall in the slips with the change of the tides. These were normally only about 2-3 feet on this part of the coast, but could be appreciably more during surges from strong storms. We took our time arranging our boat in the slip using a complex system of long lines and fenders that would ensure that the boat could rise and fall with any change in water level that we could reasonably expect without permitting the boat to bang into the dock or any of the pilings in a strong wind. Once our dock lines and fenders were all in place we felt the boat was ready for the coming long winter's stay.

Dinghies on Shore from Boats in the Anchorage

    Our first week at Beaufort Docks was busy making all the arrangements necessary to our convenient living on the boat. We made use of the courtesy car provided to boaters by the Maritime Museum to return to New Bern and get our own car. We arranged for Kathleen to forward our mail to general delivery at the Beaufort post office until further notice. With the car it was easy to complete our initial grocery shopping and stock up our food storage. On Friday the telephone company sent a technician to install a telephone jack on the dock near our slip so that we could connect our telephone line and have telephone service on the boat. We even were able to arrange for dial-up internet service through Beaufort Marine Discount, a well-stocked boating store just a block away from our slip.

    By Monday, November 18, just six days after we took up residence, everything had been arranged. We congratulated ourselves over nightcaps on how much we had accomplished during these busy full days, but our self-satisfied smugness was very short lived. On Tuesday morning when we turned on the television to watch local news and weather, the screen suddenly went blank and the set became quiet as if it had been shut off. There was no way I could get the set to operate and I decided I would take it for repairs, which hopefully would cost significantly less that a new television, something we could not afford at this time. Having our own telephone on board made this task much simpler than it otherwise would have been. Our television set was a small combination TV-VCR unit and some repair shops would not attempt to repair it. However, I found a shop in Havelock, a small town about midway between Beaufort and New Bern, that agreed to repair it "as soon as we can get to it."

    Later that same day our fresh water pump seemed to become erratic. Water from our storage tanks was piped to the water heater, the showers and various faucets through a water pump that incorporated a pressure switch that was set to operate the pump between the pressure limits of 20 psi (turning on) and 40 psi (turning off). There were several times during the day when the pump did not come on until the pressure became very low. On Wednesday the pump failed completely. The pressure switch on this pump was a separate replaceable unit and I decided to try replacing the switch before replacing the whole pump, which would cost considerably more. I was able to find a replacement switch at the large boating store we had frequented outside New Bern. As I had hoped, a new switch solved our problem for the cost of a few dollars and a drive to New Bern.

Looking into the Engine Room at the Generator

Waterlift Muffler and Exhaust Hose shown at Upper Right

    After the fresh water pump was repaired I attacked the problem of determining what went wrong at the Cedar Creek anchorage and repairing the generator. Even though we were not planning to be at anchor for at least the next five months, I knew this had to be done as soon as possible, not only because I tried to keep everything on the boat in good repair at all times, but also because it was possible that we could very well need the generator while in the marina if there was a power failure. (This had happened to us numbers of times in the past.) I knew that the generator failure could also have been caused by the malfunction of a pump - the generator seawater pump that pumped cooling seawater from an underwater through-hull fitting through the interior of the generator and into the waterlift muffler before being expelled overboard along with the exhaust gasses. As it turned out we were very lucky in this repair because the seawater pump did not have to be replaced. When I removed the intake hose from the seacock on the underwater through-hull fitting, I found that a small fish had been drawn into the intake and clogged the intake hose, thus preventing sufficient cooling water from reaching the generator. I was stunned to think that such an unlikely, almost unbelievable event could have come so close to causing us utter disaster. We indeed felt fortunate to have escaped the fates with such little damage. Of course I had to replace the exhaust hose and the muffler that had melted, but these were conveniently available from Beaufort Marine Discount. With the intake hose unclogged and the exhaust system reassembled the generator started and ran well.

Nancy and Recess on the Beach of Carrot Island

     By the weekend everything onboard was once again operational though our television was still at the repair shop. But we felt we could relax somewhat and start to enjoy our surroundings. Sunday was a beautiful glorious early fall day with warm temperatures and light winds. In the afternoon we put Recess in the water and took a dinghy ride to the low island, named variously Town Marsh or Carrot Island, on the other side of Taylor Creek. This was the island that was home to a small herd of wild horses that we had seen previously. We drove the bow of the dinghy right up onto the hard packed sand, and spent the next hour walking the beach and roaming across the narrow island. Horse trails and droppings were everywhere. On the other side of the island we could look across the waters of Back Sound to Shackleford Banks, the barrier island on the ocean. Off in the distance we could see the Cape Lookout Lighthouse. We talked about how we would like to visit these nearby places during our stay in Beaufort.

Sunset Behind Carrot Island Across Taylor Creek  

  Before returning to the boat later in the afternoon we took Recess for a ride along Taylor Creek. We cruised through all the boats at anchor and slowly motored along the Beaufort waterfront, which now was familiar to us from our walks along Front Street. We returned to Summer School at about 4 p.m. and settled into cocktails and dinner. We were starting to feel that we had a home, to realize that it was no longer necessary to wander the waterways. It was November 24, just four days after I turned 58 and Day 196.

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1800 Days – Seg. 22, Ch. 5, Pg. 10-23 (End of chapter)

    The conditions and circumstances we found in Beaufort gave us both hope and concern. Once we were securely settled in our slip I walked down to the marina office and talked with Owan about possible arrangements for winter dockage. I also met Owan's boss, the marina manager, Haywood Weeks. They confirmed that special winter rates would be offered beginning November 15 when the winter migration of transient boaters would be mostly ended. The details had not been completely determined, they said, but the slip rental would probably be $175 to $200 a month for our boat including electricity. The special rates would hold until about the middle of April when the spring boat migration would begin. This was very good news to us, and exactly what we had hoped to find, but there were a number of problems. First among these was that it was just October 1 and we had to find some place to stay for the next month and a half. Could they give us a long term rate, say monthly or even weekly, until November 15? No, they were prohibited by town statute (Beaufort Docks was a town facility) from offering anything except the standard nightly rate until the winter season began. They were required to keep the slips open for transient boaters until then, they explained. So, if we stayed someplace else in the area could we reserve a winter slip beginning November 15? No, they had decided not to take reservations but there should not be any difficulty in accommodating us for the winter in one of the slips in what they called their small boat basin. Of course they could not guarantee this but if we showed up in mid-November there should not be any problem. We agreed to this and said we would stay at the Docks for a few days until we located nearby dockage. We found it unsettling that we could not definitely secure our winter arrangements but we tried to be content by their assurances. And there were many marinas in this area of North Carolina. Finding a slip for a month or more at a reasonable rate would not be a problem, would it?

    We quickly discovered, however, that finding a slip, any slip, at any rate for a week or more, anywhere in the region, proved to be a nearly insurmountable problem because of all the damage done by hurricanes Bertha and Fran. Somehow we had not been aware of how extensive this damage was in coastal North Carolina. Every marina in the area had suffered damages that varied from relatively minor problems that affected a few slips to complete destruction. Slips were scarce. To make matters worse it was now the peak time in the fall boat migration so that slips were in great demand, and those marinas that had slips available wanted to reserve them for the more lucrative transient business rather than rent them for longer terms at reduced rates. For the first two days after our arrival at Beaufort Docks we occupied most of our time contacting marinas. There were no long term slips available across the ICW channel in Morehead City where we had enjoyed staying on our trip south in 1993, and we were assured that this would be the case all along the ICW where the hurricane damage had been severe. We tried various marinas inland. In Oriental, a small boating-centered town back on the Neuse roughly across from the mouth of Adams Creek, all available slips were being held for transients. We tried the small city of New Bern, farther upriver on the Neuse at its confluence with the Trent River, but still within a reasonable day's cruise from Beaufort. Of the two marinas that were there the one at the Ramada Inn had been completely destroyed. The other marina, at the Sheraton Inn, had received substantial damage but the dockmaster told us that repairs were underway and he might be able to give us a slip for a month beginning about the middle of October. This would work for us, we thought, but once again there were no guarantees. We decided to leave Beaufort anyway and cruise to the New Bern area. The charts indicated that there were good anchoring possibilities close to New Bern in the Trent River; maybe we could stay at anchor until a slip became available.

    Now the problem was getting out of Beaufort. On the day after our arrival it rained hard all day. And then on Thursday a strong cold front came through that brought steady strong winds of 20 to 30 mph. Despite these winds, by mid-afternoon the marina filled with large yachts, sixty to eighty feet or more in length, because the Coast Guard had re-opened the ICW through the lower Neuse; these were among the boats that had been trapped by the emergency closure on Tuesday. The winds continued through the weekend but they did not deter us from going to the North Carolina Seafood Festival in Morehead City on Saturday though we decided to take a taxi rather than try to ride our bicycles. We stuffed ourselves on seafood from all the street vendors and unavoidably thought of Charles and Connie from Summit North and their dream of taking their boat down the ICW and attending this festival. On Monday tropical storm Josephine came ashore in the Florida panhandle and was forecast to be in coastal North Carolina the next day. Gale warnings were issued. We spent much of Monday preparing for a strong storm, securing everything on deck and adjusting our dock lines. Josephine came as scheduled with winds in our slip to 40 mph and winds at Diamond Shoals offshore Cape Hatteras over 90 mph.

North Carolina Seafood Festival - Morehead City

    Finally on Wednesday, October 9, after more than a week in Beaufort, we awoke to weather that seemed stable and calm enough to permit comfortable cruising. The NOAA forecast was good as well and we decided to depart. We were lucky enough to be able to get our forwarded mail at the post office, checked out of the marina and were underway by 10 a.m. The cruise back out Adams Creek Canal and into the Neuse, and then upriver to New Bern was uneventful. By 6 p.m. we were securely anchored in a pretty spot on the Trent River about a mile past the Sheraton.

    Thursday was a delightful, sunny, early fall day that began with calls of Canada geese flying low over the boat in the early morning. We lowered Recess and rode the short distance into the Sheraton where we met the dockmaster, Jack. To our great surprise he told us that we could have a slip the next day for a monthly rate of $200 plus electricity. This was unexpected good fortune and we eagerly accepted. On Friday we brought Summer School into our slip to begin our stay in our home-for-a-month in New Bern. We were ecstatic.

**********

    If I had to make a choice of the single boating experience that gave us most pleasure, I probably would say it was anchoring in some quiet private sheltered place along some scenic waterway with the time and leisure to pursue our pastimes of writing and reading, listening to music and talking, while absorbing the peace and beauty of our surroundings. But the experience that closely rivaled this in our favors was that of taking up residence in some new place with the opportunity not just to visit, but to live there and get to know the people, the facilities, the attractions as well as the detractions, in short to learn and absorb the feeling of the place. Living on our boat enabled us to do this without ever having to leave home. No matter how involved we became in exploring the new area and participating in various activities, we would always be able to return to our boat with its beautiful and warm teak paneling, to our office in the forward cabin, to our galley and settee and entertainment center in the main cabin surrounded by large windows on all sides, and to our familiar and comfortable bed in the aft cabin. At the end of the day we were always home. No better example of this whole experience was the month we spent in New Bern.

Sheraton Marina - New Bern

    How excited we were at the beginning of this stay! There were several reasons. First we had a good secure slip at a reasonable rate in an attractive, well-kept marina, though there still were a few areas under repair from the hurricane damage. We had 50 amp. power for the boat that enabled us to run heat and air-conditioning and all of our other systems. We had good dock water and even cable TV. That the marina was part of the Sheraton Hotel complex entitled us to all the amenities available to any guest including the use of a well-appointed exercise room. Second, we were within this unknown city of New Bern that seemed to promise so much adventure and new experiences. And finally, it was early fall with comfortable warm daytime temperatures and cool nights. For both Nancy and me, fall is a time of expectation and excitement and anticipation.

    We began our explorations immediately because, with great luck, the Friday of our arrival was also the beginning of the annual Chrysanthemum Festival, a notable New Bern event. We discovered that this festival was centered at a place called Tryon Palace just a few short blocks from the Sheraton, and on Saturday morning we set off to experience the festival. We found Tryon Palace to be an imposing colonial mansion located on 14 acres of grounds along with several outbuildings. We learned that the palace itself was the restored home of British Governor William Tryon and dated from 1770. Inside it was furnished with an outstanding collection of antiques and art. But more impressive to us were the grounds. All of the 14 acres were devoted to extensive gardens, which ranged from a large English formal garden complete with fountains and statuary, to a large kitchen garden and a wilderness garden area. Brilliantly colored chrysanthemums were everywhere. They were strikingly beautiful. We spent several hours exploring the buildings and grounds before wandering back to the boat.

Tryon Palace Entrance

  

Tryon Palace Formal Gardens



Harpist in Tulip Garden (Tryon Palace)





  Our explorations continued on Sunday when we were excited to learn that there would be a recital of baroque music for organ and trumpet at St. Joseph's Episcopal Church in the afternoon. This church was located on Pollock Street in the center of downtown New Bern. Once again it was only a short walk of a few blocks from the marina. Not only did we enjoy the concert but we took the opportunity to become familiar with the main business center of the city.

    During Tuesday and Wednesday of our first week at the Sheraton we completed our relocation to North Carolina by returning to Rolph's to retrieve our car. Now we could explore not only the small areas within walking or biking distance, but we could also become acquainted with the outlying areas and the whole region. We had faith that somewhere in this region we would find our winter's home.

Seafood Market in New Bern

    Throughout the remainder of our month at the marina we delighted in our New Bern experience. The Sheraton Hotel and Marina was ideally located to provide pleasant walks to most of the downtown attractions. We visited the Tryon Palace Seafood Market and a small grocery store (the Pak-a-Sak), both located on Front Street, which bordered the hotel. By crossing Front Street and walking around the block on Middle, Pollack and Craven streets we could visit several book stores including Ratty's (specializing in nautical books and merchandise), a number of restaurants (Sonny's Raw Bar and Grill became one of our favorites), several office supply stores that we enjoyed browsing, and Mitchell's Hardware, a wonderful old-time hardware store that prided itself on an extensive inventory of hard-to-find items and knowledgeable personal service. This block also contained a pleasant small park called Bear Plaza that was decorated with numbers of carved wooden sculptures of bears in various positions.

    We used our bicycles to good effect also, at least until this became impossible. The city was sufficiently small that riding the city streets did not seem hazardous. We found that New Bern had an excellent library located about seven or eight blocks from the marina, and it was a pleasant ride that we made frequently with our saddlebags attached to the rear of the bikes so that we could bring home whatever reading treasures we found. We also enjoyed riding through the quiet residential areas near the frontage along the Neuse River. However, if we went in the opposite direction, beyond the Tryon Palace grounds, we had to ride through a squalid impoverished housing project where the sight of a middle-aged white couple riding bicycles in the middle of the day drew stares of disbelief. We did not feel comfortable there.

    Of course having the use of our car enabled us to explore more widely in addition to making major shopping and provisioning much more convenient. On the outskirts of New Bern, perhaps five miles away from the city center, there was a complex of squares and shopping centers and the inevitable mall. This area included several upscale grocery stores as well as a large boating supply store from which we obtained some needed items. We also used the car to make day trips through the surrounding countryside. On one of these we followed the north shore of the Neuse River back downstream to Oriental so that we could become acquainted with this well-known small boating town. We had no way of knowing that, some years later, we would live briefly in Oriental and say our final goodbye to Summer School. On our way back to New Bern we crossed the Neuse on a free ferry, part of the wonderful North Carolina ferry system, running between Minnesott Beach and Cherry Point on the south shore outside the Marine Air Station located there.

    Our lives were satisfying, full and, with one notable exception, pleasant during our month in New Bern. We were fortunate to be there for a number of special events. One of these was called "Ratty's Regatta - A Rowing Event on the River Trent," held on the grounds of the hotel and the marina, and featuring people costumed in period dress from the early part of the century. The main event was the launch of a beautiful hand-crafted wooden rowing skiff followed by rides around the sheltered waters of the marina. We were also fortunate to be able to attend a lecture at Tryon Palace on the history of North Carolina hurricanes. And then later in the month there was a small "Oktoberfest" celebration in the park adjacent to the hotel. It was at this time that we fell permanently in love with North Carolina pulled pork barbeque.

Hand Crafted Rowing Skiff

Ratty's Regatta - New Bern

    The exception to our enjoyment, and it was a significant one, occurred on October 29 when we discovered that our bicycles had been stolen overnight. We used our bikes almost every day and we kept them locked to the fence on the bulkhead at the head of the dock, perhaps fifty yards from our slip and approximately in the center of the Sheraton marina grounds. On this morning we found broken pieces of the locks and remnants of the chains where our bikes should have been. When I reported this to Dockmaster Jack his main reply was that, had he known that we were keeping our bikes there, he would have advised us to put them on board our boat because many bikes have been stolen from the bulkhead. And even then it was not 100% safe because a few bikes had been stolen right off the boats. "It's those kids from the projects," he said. "They come over here in the middle of the night and steal anything they can. The watchman can't be everywhere all the time." It did not seem worthwhile for me to ask Jack how he could not have known where we were locking our bikes given that he walks around the marina every day and even lives on a boat on one of the docks. We went to the police of course and rode up and down the streets in the project but the bikes were never seen again. This was a major loss to us. When we were cruising those bicycles were essential to us when we stopped in a town and needed to do errands, tend to personal business and reprovision. And with the tightness of our funds this early in our adventure we did not feel free to replace them. I tried to remember that, to ghetto kids, people who owned boats big enough to live on must seem unimaginably wealthy, and I tried to imagine the envy and hard resentment that must be felt, but I nonetheless felt violated and angry and bitter.

    Perhaps the theft stung so painfully because it contrasted sharply with everything else in our experience of New Bern. People we met everywhere were gracious and friendly regardless of color: people on the docks, clerks in the hotel, waitpeople in restaurants, proprietors of stores, everyone on the streets. And the weather during our stay was some of the best fall weather we had experienced with warm sunny days and cool nights during the first part of our month becoming crisp and colder early in November as our departure date neared. Throughout this period everything on the boat worked well (again with one notable exception) including all our pumps and the heating and air-conditioning system, though we saw little need for either. I had been able to work steadily on my writing although I had to discard a big chunk as being unsatisfactory; but that was progress too, I thought. Even my health had seemed better with fewer periods of stomach pain perhaps due to all the exercise of walking and riding and the regular workouts we enjoyed in the Sheraton exercise room.

    It was also during this month that we met a very interesting couple who would eventually have a significant effect on our boating lives. One evening we heard a knock on our boat and when we opened the cabin door we were greeted by a man and a woman who introduced themselves as Earl and Ann Temple, explaining that they owned the 40 foot trawler on the next dock and that they would like to meet us and have a look at our beautiful boat. Of course, we invited them inside and then enjoyed a lively, sometimes spirited talk over some drinks. Thus began an acquaintance and, for a time, a friendship, that was to have a fundamental effect on our boating future. Earl and Ann owned and operated a very successful tree surgeon and landscape business in the New Bern area. They had recently purchased their trawler and named it Sawdust, Earl explained, after the product that had generated the funds that had enabled its purchase. Earl was a relatively short but wiry middle-aged man who still did much of the hard physical work of their business, while Ann was a moderately tall attractive woman, obviously quite conscious of her dress and general appearance, who kept the books and managed the business side of their enterprise. As we all talked it became apparent that we shared many ideas and feelings related to boating and trawlers. Nancy and I were also intrigued by the fact that the Temples lived on Temple Point on the south shore of the Neuse River, on land that had been in the Temple family for generations. They maintained a dock on a navigable tributary creek, they said, but preferred to keep Sawdust in New Bern to have it near their place of business. It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and we resolved to get together again on their boat.

    Once November arrived the weather became much colder. On Saturday night November 2 we enjoyed a memorable dinner at the Flame restaurant on the outskirts of New Bern in celebration of getting a notice that I had become eligible to receive social security benefits when I became 62 due to my semester of part-time work at Lafayette the previous year. (Without this single employment credit I would have just missed the eligibility requirement. I could not take part in social security during all the years I taught in Canada and in Colorado as a state employee and therefore these years did not count.) But on Sunday morning we awoke to a chilling temperature of 38 degrees.

    It remained cold all day on that Sunday. In the evening when we were washing dishes after dinner we noticed water seeping onto the cabin floor from the cupboard underneath the sink. We found that the flexible plastic drain hose that connected the sink to the overboard discharge through-hull fitting was clogged. After cleaning up the mess and dismantling the hose (NOT the way we wanted to relax after dinner) we found that it was clogged by fat and grease in a loop of the hose that had apparently congealed in the cold temperatures. I unclogged the hose, shortened it to remove the loop and reconnected it to the sink drain. This was the first problem we had encountered due to living on the boat in cold weather. In my journal entry that night I speculate on whether we had made a mistake by not going further south.

    On the next day, which was only one week before we had to vacate our slip according to our month's contract, we got serious about making modifications to the boat to help us withstand the coming cold. Among other things we applied weather-stripping to the sliding salon door; we attached "shrink and seal" plastic film coverings to the non-opening windows; we made insulating panels for the front hatch and the aft cabin door using three-quarter inch Styrofoam, which we then cut to fit. During the week the weather moderated, which deceptively relieved our sense of urgency for making more preparations for winter.

    On Sunday evening we joined Earl and Ann for dinner at their home on the banks of the Neuse. They had an attractive house high above the river with a spectacular view. They also showed us their property along the banks of Mitchell Creek, which connected to the Neuse through Clubfoot Creek. They had a small dock there with several boats tied into the slips that they rented. There were a few empty slips as well and Earl very generously invited us to come in on Summer School and stay any time as their guests. He assured us that the creek held sufficient depth, at least five feet if we stayed in the middle. I thought it very unlikely at the time that we would chance navigating this shallow unknown waterway but, as it transpired, a few years later I would think otherwise. As usual we had animated and enjoyable talk during this visit, and before leaving we promised to keep in touch after we settled in Beaufort.

    We departed New Bern at 10 a.m. on the next day, Monday November 11. It was sunny and a cool 50 degrees as we cruised down the Neuse into a 10-15 mph wind and a one foot chop. We could not take up residence at Beaufort Docks with their winter rates until Friday, but we planned to stay four nights at anchor until then. On this Monday we were headed for the comfortable anchorage we had previously found at Cedar Creek. We had a delightful four hour cruise using the lower station inside the cabin out of the wind where we luxuriated in the warmth provided by the diesel underneath the floor and the solar heating through our large windows that completely surrounded us. We saw the ferry that we had ridden so recently as it shuttled between Minnesott Beach on the north shore and Cherry Point on the south. A little over two miles after that brought us opposite Temple Point. We tried without success to see the Temple's house but we were in the center of the river, which is about four miles wide at this point. Another four miles down the river brought us to the buoy where we left the Neuse and turned into Adams Creek. By 2 p.m. we were securely anchored in our familiar spot back up Cedar Creek. We had perfect fall weather which added to the excitement we felt to be cruising again. We were looking forward to a leisurely four days, perhaps not even leaving Cedar Creek, before we went to Beaufort Docks to try to find our winter residence.

    The weather turned even colder that night. It was 40 degrees outside when we went to bed at about 11 p.m. I awoke in the morning at 7 a.m., very cold with a temperature in the boat of 45 degrees while outside our weather station showed it was 34 degrees, just slightly above freezing. I got up, started our generator, started the air-conditioner in heat pump mode and turned on the two electric heaters that we had in the forward and aft cabins. Then I returned to bed to wait for the boat to become warmer. Although we had no need prior to this to run all three of these heat sources at once, our old generator, Tommy, had a 7500 watt capacity, which was easily sufficient to run the two 1500 watt electric heaters and the 3000 watt heat pump. However, after about fifteen minutes in bed I thought I smelled smoke and got up to investigate. The power cords of the two electric heaters were fine but when I opened the main access hatch into the engine room, a 2 foot square floor panel at the front of the cabin almost directly above the generator, a cloud of white smoke came billowing out of the engine room so thick that I could see nothing. I quickly closed the hatch, shut down the generator, yelled to Nancy to get out of bed and opened the cabin door and all the windows. I thought we were on fire. I shouted to Nancy to go outside and get Recess into the water while I grabbed a fire extinguisher and opened the engine room access hatch again. When the smoke cleared I could see no flame but there was water all around the generator, which had obviously overheated. When I climbed down into the engine room to inspect I found that, for some reason I did not understand, the generator had become so hot that it not only boiled out all the coolant, but the resulting super-hot exhaust had then melted the plastic waterlift muffler. This was the source of all the acrid smoke.

    I returned to the cabin and reported all this to Nancy who by this time had Recess in the water. Of course we were greatly relieved, to understate our feelings, not to have to abandon our boat to destruction by fire, but we were nonetheless upset by the fact that we were now without a functional generator and could no longer stay at anchor. We spent the remainder of the morning cleaning up the engine room, remounting Recess onto the swim platform and trying to regain our equanimity.

    Later in the day we slowly cruised the remaining 20 miles into Beaufort and limped into Beaufort Docks. When the dockmaster, Owan, heard our story he agreed to let us begin our winter's stay a few days early and assigned us a slip in the small boat basin. He also told us that they had finalized the winter rates and they would be $100 plus $1 per foot of boat length including water, electricity and a cable television connection. These rates would remain in effect until April 15 of the following spring. And yes, he said, we would be able to get a telephone connection but we would have to arrange that with the telephone company and pay the costs ourselves. To us this was phenomenal. For only $134 per month we would have our accommodations for the winter with all the basic utilities included except telephone. The almost unbelievable good news of this arrangement served to greatly improve our moods and we happily began our winter's stay in Beaufort-by-the-Sea, as the town is often designated. It was Tuesday, November 12, Day 184.

1800 Days – Seg. 21, Ch. 5, Pg. 4-10

    Albemarle Sound is a large and comparatively shallow body of mostly fresh water that has an oblong shape with its axis running roughly east-west. It is almost 60 miles long from its eastern end at the outer banks to its western terminus near the town of Edenton and the Chowan River, and it is about 15 miles wide where the ICW route crosses it in a generally north-south direction. For such a large body of water it is quite shallow with usual depths of 15-20 feet. The significance of these data is that the prevailing winds funnel up and down the sound creating confused, steep, sometimes dangerous seas over the shallow bottom that strike craft crossing the sound on the ICW approximately on the beam. With such a long fetch over the water even a wind of a steady 15 knots, certainly not uncommon, can make the crossing uncomfortable, and a steady wind of 20 knots or more can create conditions that can be dangerous for smaller boats. And weather conditions can change quickly out on the sound, which makes crossing even more hazardous for slow boats such as Summer School that take about two hours to cover the 15 miles across (slower sail boats take even longer). Finally, a contributing hazard to boating on the Albemarle is the density of the crab traps, which are thickly littered over the water with no clear channel through the maze; we knew only too well how much damage to a propeller could be done when it becomes entangled in a trap line.

    When we left Coinjock at 8 a.m. on Thursday morning the NOAA weather forecast called for easterly winds becoming 10-15 knots. Two hours saw us to the mouth of the North River where it enters the Albemarle. Conditions seemed good enough to continue, but once well out in the sound we found the wind to be southeasterly at 15-20 knots. We had 2-3 foot waves hitting us on the beam, which caused a lot of uncomfortable rocking though not to the extent that it was dangerous. Finally, about noon we made it across the sound and into the broad shoal-lined mouth of the Alligator River. Once through the swing bridge about four miles upriver we relaxed and enjoyed a late lunch.

    We loved the Alligator River. Though we were headed upriver there was little opposing current and our path on the river was due south for almost 20 miles. For almost this entire length the river is straight, several miles wide and safely deep even well off the channel. Not only is the cruising easy but the banks are completely undeveloped and seemingly wild, which in fact they are; the eastern side of the river is part of the extensive and remote Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge. We greatly enjoyed our leisurely cruise through this straight section of the river in the early afternoon under sunny skies and temperatures in the mid-seventies.

The Alligator River - Pungo River Canal

"On a calm day you can see forever."

    The relaxed cruising gave us time to examine the charts and discuss our options for the remainder of the day. Where to anchor for the night was the problem. After the straight section, the river becomes narrow and winding for another four miles until we enter the Alligator River-Pungo River Canal. This canal is very narrow, with barely enough room for boats to pass, and straight (excepting one bend) for 22 miles with a fairly strong current that can flow in either direction. This would be a run of three hours for us, maybe more if the current were opposing us, and anchoring anywhere in the canal is out of the question. On our way south in 1993 we had chosen to anchor in the winding narrow section of the Alligator before entering the canal, but we had found that anchorage to be unsatisfactory due to the closeness of traffic in the channel, which often at night includes tugs with barges. This time we opted for a long day and decided to run the canal and anchor right after we entered the Pungo River where the charts showed a suitably deep area sufficiently removed from the ICW channel.

    It was approaching 4 p.m. when we entered the canal and about 7 p.m. when we exited into the Pungo River. We found the place where we planned to anchor and carefully worked our way through the unmarked water until we were well off the channel and tucked into a shallow cove that could give us some shelter if the wind came up. We had been on the water for 11 hours and covered about 80 miles; it was the longest day of cruising we had yet experienced. By the time we sat down at our settee in the salon to enjoy a hastily prepared dinner of chili, the sun was setting over the river. Several sail boats had come in to anchor between us and the ICW channel and the view out over the river was post-card perfect. We were now only about 80 miles from Beaufort, so close that we felt a strong urge to get there and set about our business of finding a winter home. We could be there in one more long day or preferably (was there any real reason to hurry?) two easy cruising days. Such was not to be the case, however.

    We awoke on Friday morning to a bleak weather forecast: the Coast Guard had issued a small craft advisory for both Albemarle and Pamlico Sounds with winds predicted to be 20-25 knots in advance of a strong cold front. Between our current position and Beaufort we had to navigate through some large bodies of water including a section of Pamlico Sound at the mouth of the Neuse River. The Pamlico is considerably larger than the Albemarle and, many would claim, just as rough and dangerous. In addition there were the lower portions of the Pungo River where it was very wide, a five mile crossing of the Pamlico River, and a run of almost 20 miles up the Neuse River itself, which had its own reputation for rough and sometimes dangerous conditions. We knew it would be foolhardy to attempt these waters under small craft advisory conditions but we wanted to make as much progress as we could. We left the anchorage at about 9 a.m. and continued another 12 miles down the waterway to the place below the town of Belhaven where the Pungo Creek enters the river. We worked our way into the creek (it was off our charts) and found a sheltered anchorage where we stayed for the next three days waiting for the winds to subside and the small craft advisory to be lifted.

    On Monday morning the small craft advisory was dropped and we left the protection of the Pungo Creek anchorage to try to cover the nearly 70 miles to Beaufort. At first everything went well. The forecast was for north-east winds of 10-15 knots. We knew that this amount of wind would throw up a good chop on the Pamlico and lower Neuse, but it should be do-able if perhaps a little rocky, we thought. The five mile crossing of the Pamlico River was comfortable with the wind on our stern, but the wind seemed to be growing stronger as we entered Goose Creek on the south side of the Pamlico. Goose Creek leads into the Hobucken Land Cut and then out into the Bay River. By the time we came down the Bay River approaching its entrance into Pamlico Sound at the mouth of the Neuse, it was obvious that NOAA's forecast had been too conservative; the wind was indeed out of the northeast but it was blowing 20-25 mph according to our own anemometer. The Bay River enters Pamlico Sound between Bay Point and Maw Point. The charted ICW route takes the boater out into the sound for several miles before turning around a junction buoy and beginning the turn to the southwest to proceed upstream on the Neuse, which is here about 7 miles wide. At the junction buoy the boater is exposed to the full length of Pamlico Sound which extends to the northeast for seventy miles all the way to Oregon Inlet on the outer banks north of Cape Hatteras. With this amount of fetch over open shallow water even a fairly light north-east breeze can create significant chop, especially as it opposes the current in the Neuse, which in its lower section flows from the southwest toward the northeast.

    As we approached the mouth of the Bay River we could see whitecaps out on the sound, and when we got into the sound beyond the protection of Bay Point we were slammed by strong wind and steep waves that struck us broadside. In retrospect we should have turned back, but we had been waiting so long for settled weather so we could finally make our destination of Beaufort, we decided to continue. As we approached the junction buoy farther out in the sound the waves became steeper and larger, running 3-4 feet. Each wave would slam into the side of the boat, heeling us far over. Then the boat would roll and right itself only to be slammed on its side again by the next large wave. It was hard for us to keep our footing inside the cabin where books and papers and everything not tied down were flying off the shelves. The floor of our office in the forward cabin was deep with the books and papers that had been knocked from the shelves. This was the worst beating we had taken since being caught out on the Great Bahama Banks in the Exuma Islands of the Bahamas during a small craft advisory in the spring of 1994. Finally we reached the junction buoy and made the 90 degree turn to the southwest to proceed up the Neuse. Now that the wind and waves were on our stern we were no longer being knocked onto our side, but we were surfing on the following waves and the helm had to be carefully controlled to avoid broaching. But it was a much more comfortable ride. At times our GPS unit showed that we were reaching speeds of 11 mph as we surfed down a wave front, an incredibly high speed for our slow trawler that could only reach at most 9 mph at maximum throttle. For almost two hours we flew up the Neuse holding tightly onto the wheel and giving corrections to the helm as each wave struck us from behind and we surfed down the wavefront.

    Eventually we reached the place opposite the town of Oriental where the ICW cuts south off the Neuse and enters Adams Creek, and finally we had some shelter from the wind and waves. We found that we were exhausted. The charts showed that, a little over two miles from the mouth of Adams, a short creek named Cedar Creek entered the channel on the left, and our waterway guide indicated that this creek provided a good anchorage. Without hesitation we turned into Cedar Creek and worked our way about a third of a mile off the ICW channel where the water was considerably deeper than the charted depth of seven feet. (We had not yet learned that strong winds in Pamlico Sound could affect the water heights on the Neuse and its tributaries.) There we dropped the hook and set it well because the wind was still blowing hard, as it did for the remainder of the day and most of the night. It was just mid-afternoon and we could have easily made the 17 miles to Beaufort, but in our tired state we knew we had to stop. We spent the remainder of the afternoon cleaning up the mess inside the boat.

    Because the distance to Beaufort was so short we took our time on Tuesday morning raising our anchor and getting underway. Happily, the wind had lessened and we had a bright sunny day. We entered the Adams Creek Canal by about 9:30 a.m. This is a narrow dredged land cut that runs for about 10 miles and connects Adams Creek to the Newport River at a point only about five miles from Beaufort Inlet and the accompanying sister towns of Beaufort and Morehead City. We had been through this canal twice before and knew that running the canal was often tense due to heavy boat traffic in the narrow channel caused by both pleasure boats and tugs with barges. We expected to encounter heavy traffic overtaking us (a much more difficult situation in a narrow channel than meeting boats head-on) due to the large number of southbound boats we knew to be on the waterway, but on this morning, unaccountably, traffic was especially light. As a result of the weather and the light traffic our morning's cruise was pleasant. We emerged from the canal and navigated through the shoals of the Newport River, went under the highway and railroad bridges that connect Beaufort to Morehead City, and headed out towards the inlet past where the ICW channel makes a sharp turn to the right and continues along the Morehead City waterfront. Nearer the inlet we turned around Radio Island and followed the channel markers into Taylor Creek and the Beaufort waterfront. By noon we had successfully been moored in a good slip at Beaufort Docks, and I was chatting with the dockmaster (I'll call him Owan) who remembered us from our stay there the previous summer. We were surprised to learn the reason for the absence of boat traffic this morning. Owan told us that the Coast Guard had closed the ICW through the Neuse River because a tug had sunk on the lower Neuse yesterday and they had not yet located the sunken vessel, which could pose a dangerous hazard to navigation. Apparently it sank on the south side of the river sometime in the early afternoon near the area of Turnagain Bay. This was only a few miles upriver from the junction buoy where we entered the Neuse. We felt lucky indeed to have survived the rough waters on the Neuse and we knew we were fortunate to be safely docked in Beaufort. Now we could begin our search for a winter home.

Beaufort Docks With Anchorage In The Background
photo courtesy of Jim Lee