In perfect weather, high in
the low 80s, sunny with a nice steady breeze, we sail up to anchor in Abel Bay, near the
Swanquarter National Wildlife Refuge and enjoy a lovely moonlit
anchorage with only a few pesky skeeters. It's nice and cool for
sleeping, so we sleep in and enjoy a leisurely breakfast.
Out on the water conditions are perfect
again and we fly around Pamlico Point, out into the sound, skim between the military
firing range (off-limits) and the marshes, zipping across in these
crazy five knot tacks, just a fantastic time, enjoying the sun
and breeze and the smell of the ocean. Skirting the firing range,we pass a little open cockpit
sailboat just flying downwind with a crazy spinnaker. We are too
busy sailing to even take a picture, but boy, are we having some
fun!
We cruise into Jones Bay and start
looking for this little canal that Eric had seen on the chart. It
goes right up into Middle Bay, which would have been new territory
for us. From there we could cut through to Big Porpoise and then
back to Mouse Harbor, a tricky inside passage we were keen to try.
Since our boat only draws eighteen inches of water, we can get into
these little places other boats can't. And we love to try them!
The opening is narrow, but passable.
We'd done these things before and thought nothing of it. But it gets
narrower. We squeeze past a few trees overhanging the ditch. No
problem, Eric says, we're almost halfway. Up ahead we spot an even
larger tree leaning into the ditch with a pipe sticking up on the
other side. By this time we are so tight in this little ditch, we
can't even think about turning around. We have a few feet of
clearance on either side, at best. Anyway, we're nearly there.
We squeeze past a pine tree and the
shrouds take off a branch. I get the silly giggles as pine cones rain down on the deck. Eric keeps on
motoring. The deck is littered with debris. Eric hands me the boat
hook and instructs me to fend off as we pass a tree trunk jutting
into our path. We clear it by one inch, the other side of the boat
scraping the marsh.
A little farther and I can see the bay
on the other side. We're almost there. Except the way is blocked by
ten feet of brush and a substantial tree. There is almost room to
turn around at the end. Almost. Eric fearlessly slips over the side
and disappears up to his thighs in mud and up to his chest in water.
A splash nearby and Eric crows, “Alligator!” I shiver. He pulls
the bow around, dislodging a derelict crab pot on the way and
releasing several large crabs, while I try to fend off the stern, now jammed in the marsh grass.
He's pulling with the boat hook, so I
untie the kayak paddles and proceed to push off the marsh and paddle
to move the stern around. The rudder has kicked up and is sticking
out and catching on the grass, so I have to climb down the swim
ladder to lift it. I do my best not to think about alligators.
Finally, we're headed back out and I titter uncomforably as I realize
we have to run that unbelievable gauntlet of trees and brush again.
With me at the helm (since I was no use at fending) we barely make it
past the tree with one inch clearance. It rubs the hull. I fail at
steering too.
Delighted to see the open water of
Jones Bay again, we are greeted by dolphins and more incredible
weather and a perfect wind to blow us up the ICW to Goose Creek. We
sail up to anchor again, get up before dawn and head out. Another
perfect day, except the wind shifted 180 degrees and is now in our
teeth. It's also really blowing. Willadine is heeled over and with a
reefed main and a hankie of jib we're making five knots.
Eric is in heaven as we tack back and forth to get out of Goose
Creek. We even manage quite a bit of traffic, three big power
yachts, a sailboat and a tug and barge. Whew. Close-hauled, we make
one incredible tack all the way back to the mouth of North Creek.
Willadine is going four and five knots steady with Eric at the helm
the whole way, in sailing heaven, total bliss. He's pumped up with
the thrill of such an amazing sail, but by this time, I'm exhausted.
We spend a few glorious hours anchored out at Frying Pan, resting and
eating lunch and then, very reluctantly head back to the dock. Our
only consolation is that we get to come back next week!!
