Clawing Our Way North – Changes of Latitude

In mid- March we had reached our furthest south destination at a latitude of 22 degrees, 26 minutes, and now we are in Hampton, Virginia at a latitude of 37 degrees and 01 minutes.  At sixty nautical miles per degree of latitude, we have traveled 875 nautical miles north (or 997 statute miles, the kind you drive in a car). And that doesn’t take into consideration our wanderings east and west during the trip north.  Yes, we’ve covered a lot of territory.

On a blustery day in late March we sail from Rock Sound Eleuthera to Governor’s Harbor, the original capital of the Bahamas. 

The bay at Governor's Harbor where Exuberant is anchored just to the left.

This is one of our favorite stops as here we seem to cross into a lusher version of the Bahamas. There’s less dust and more flowers.  We enjoy eating out at restaurants that cater more to American and European tastes and wandering the streets of restored homes.  It is not all placid, though, as a front comes through and gives us one of the most spectacular rainbows we have ever seen.

It seemed you could see the end of this rainbow actually continue under water.

As conditions improve, we head north to Current Cut, a narrow pass riddled with strong currents that leads to the settlement of Spanish Wells.  Anchored off a nearby cay we see our fisherman friend from the Jimentos, George on Lady Marie, heading into Spanish Wells.  We try to hail him on the radio but get no response.  It is the end of lobster season in the Bahamas and the fishing boats are heading in to port laden with several months’ worth of catch. Most likely, George is making arrangements to unload his catch at the cooperative.

We get a good window to cross into the Abacos and leave just before sunrise.  It starts out as a pleasant motor sail but once out of the lee of Eleuthera, the wind dies and the four foot swell, left over from the previous storms in the ocean, grows to 7 – 8 feet.  It is time for seasickness meds.  The cut into the Sea of Abaco has some breaking waves, so we approach with trepidation.  Just as we enter the narrow cut, a charter catamaran decides to overtake us.  We abort our entry to allow him to pass and follow along behind as we watch the cat broach several times in the waves.  We are definitely white knuckled, so it is hard to imagine what is going on ahead of us.  One thing we have learned is to avoid charter boats like the plague, and this instance justified our fears.

We anchor just off Lynyard Cay, launch the dinghy, and head over to the famous Pete’s Pub for a very late lunch and a stiff drink. This is one of those “don’t miss” stops in the Abacos, and we take that to heart every trip up here.  A walk along the beach after dining allows us to shake off some of the jitters and queasiness from the passage.

High tide the next morning is around 10 am and that gives us just enough time to get to Hope Town with maximum water depths.  We draw seven feet, and the trip in is measured in inches for us.  

Looking at the channel into Hope Town and the lighthouse in the distance.

Once in, we search for a mooring ball as there is no anchoring in this compact harbor.  It is a matter of just plain luck as we find a ball for us and another next to us for our friends on Ursa Minor.  

Shortly after tying up the Bahamian Class A Sloop Abaco Rages sails past on the way to their mooring. Several days later we visited with the captain and some of the crew. Burt was invited to crew with them whenever we are in the area during the racing season.

We sign up for a week and during that time only see a few balls vacate for new boats.  We certainly hit the jackpot! 

Hope Town is one of our favorite destinations.  Yes, it is full of tourists with little opportunity to mingle with local Bahamians, but we have been mingling all winter and enjoy the opportunity for some indulgence. Naturally, we climb the Lighthouse for an overview of the harbor.   

A panorama of the harbor from the lighthouse.  Exuberant is the blue hulled boat at the right side of the mooring field.

We stroll the quaint streets admiring the lush gardens and the architectural details on the many restored cottages. 

Tidy Hope Town exudes charm and character.

We stop at favorite restaurants and watering holes including a dinghy ride to the south end of Elbow Cay for beach combing at Tahiti Beach and lunch at Cracker P’s. My bike tire has been replaced with an almost correctly sized replacement so we cautiously bike along the paved streets of Elbow Cay.  The correct tire will have to wait until we return to the States.

One Saturday while we are in Hope Town, an opportunity arises to take a water taxi over to Man of War Cay for the Boat-builders’ Festival and dedication of a new memorial to the trade that has made generations of Man of War residents famous.  The festival is primarily for the locals, but we are welcomed to join in.  We tour several boat building businesses and have an opportunity to talk with the current builders. 

Albery skiffs are seen everywhere in the Bahamas and Florida.  They are know for the quality construction that takes place in this small facility.

 

Wooden Abaco sloops are hand made down the road and are still used for training and recreation in the area.

There is a ceremony at the new memorial complete with school children singing a catchy tune about boatbuilding on Man of War that still replays in my mind.  There are speeches, visiting dignitaries, and hymns sung as this is a very religious community. Historic boats line the docks and are open for touring. 

The William Thornton is an example of a traditional  inter-island sailboat that was build at Man of War.   A wood boat, it doesn't hold up well in the tropic waters and is undergoing a major restoration. It sailed in the Parade of Sail in New York City during the US bi-centennial celebrations.

As we take the water taxi back to Hope Town, we pass Abaco Rage on the way to her Hope Town mooring; she was also built on Man of War.

We’ve been studiously watching weather and see an opportunity to head back to the States.  We depart Hope Town on the high tide, head over to Marsh Harbor several miles away to top off the fuel tanks, and begin the long passage to the northwest.   The sometime dicey Whale Passage is smooth, and we glide past Green Turtle Cay and then the small and rarely visited Cays further northwest.  Our course takes us along the Little Bahama Bank until we drop off the western edge into the deep waters of the Atlantic and the Gulf Stream.  We enter the Stream in the middle of the night and shortly thereafter the wind switches to the north, something that wasn’t predicted.  Wind against current in the Gulf Stream can be quite unpleasant as is the case this time.  We take a diagonal to the northwest to get out of the stream as soon as possible rather than riding the 3 – 4 knot current to the north. We regret not being able to take advantage of the speed offered by the current, but seasickness isn’t much fun. 

Forty eight hours later we arrive in St. Augustine to be greeted by our friends Ted and Sally on Amici. 

Well..this isn't Amici but it is the boat on the mooring next to us - The Spirit of south Carolina, visiting St. Augustine with a crew of Boy Scouts.

We are beat but rally the forces to enjoy several days with our friends.  

A gate along one of the side streets in the historic district.

 

A garden scene from a restored boutique hotel recently opened near our marina. If you look in the yard beyond the fountain you can barely see a green painted wrought iron bench that is identical to the one we had that originally belong to Burt's great-grandmother.

Once they depart it is time to catch up on business that has been sidelined during our stay in the Bahamas.  I rent a car and drive to Green Cove Springs to pick up a huge pile of mail.  We make an appointment to check in with Customs and Boarder Protection to iron out some issues with our Small Vessel Reporting System documentation that was fouled up in Key West. And best of all, we go to a real American supermarket and replenish the stores aboard.  We are still in St. Augustine on Easter Sunday, so we attend services at the historic Memorial Presbyterian Church, originally commission by Henry Flagler in memory of a daughter who died. It is a beautiful service in a beautiful sanctuary, enhanced by an amazing pipe organ. 

One of the spires at Memorial Presbyterian.

Winds and storms have been harassing us all spring, but we finally see a weather window for the overnight up to Charleston. 

First light as the Bridge of Lions opens to allow us to leave St. Augustine.

Once again, it starts out pleasant enough, but well after dark the wind picks up and switches to just off our nose.  So here we go, pounding into short period waves and counting the hours until we can head into Charleston Harbor. We arrive to find that our friends on Amici will be arriving in the harbor after over a week of travel on the ICW. As painful as these passages have been, they do allow us to miss large swaths of the ICW that would be particularly difficult with a deep draft boat.  We have a lovely happy hour and dinner on Amici and wish them a safe journey as they head off the next morning for more of the ICW.

During our stay in Charleston, we begin working on maintenance and cleaning chores that are planned each spring.  Burt replaces a malfunctioning bow light and mounts new tires and a seat post (which was stolen from my bike in St. Augustine) while I empty all the cabinets and lockers in the interior of the boat, inventory the contents, and clean them and all other surfaces with vinegar to remove and prevent regrowth of mildew. 

Despite the work we still find time to walk the alleyways in the old town.  In the bottom picture, in the background under the boxwood arch, is another copy of our old garden wrought iron bench, this time painted white.

We take one day off for a bus tour to Middleton Plantation outside of Charleston.  What a delightful surprise!  

The green and entry way in front of the remains of the Manor House which is actually about one third the size of the original. The other two wings were burned during the Civil War.

The grounds and buildings are beautiful and full of historical significance. 

Huge, century old live oaks shade  a garden path.

 

The formal lawns and plantings are all symmetrical and based on English styles of the times. The Ashley Rivers is in the distance.

A more naturalized pond with the pump house in the distance and the rice field beyond.

Another pond with the chapel for the slaves across the way.  the basement of the chapel served as an ice house.

 

Classical sculpture enhances the formal gardens.

And yes, alligators make themselves home in the many decorative water features.

We take informative tours of the manor museum, the gardens, and the slave quarters. We learn about rice planting as it is the season to put in the new crops. And we have a low country lunch at a restored tavern.  We are there for five hours and still have not explored everything when the bus returns to pick us up. It is a beautiful day and upon returning to Charleston, we head to a roof top bar for happy hour overlooking the town and harbor. 

The view over the Cooper River from the roof top bar.

After a week in Charleston, we have another window to head offshore to Beaufort, North Carolina.  For once, the forecast holds true, and we have a pleasant passage, arriving early in Beaufort to our reserved spot at the Town Docks.  Finally, we have fresh water, and we give Exuberant a well-deserved bath, washing months of accumulated salt from her deck and now rusty stainless.  Come late afternoon we stroll down the cute main street and dine at a waterfront café, staying inside as it is a bit cool for our tastes.

And now we begin our trek up the ICW.  We have 200 miles to go to reach the Chesapeake, and these 200 miles will be our only time on the ICW since November.  We are not used to the constant chatter on the vhf and the wakes from a few of the larger motor boats that don’t pass with courtesy. We make our way to Ocracoke Island where we dodge a huge ferry boat and a dredge in the narrow and shallow channel. We tie up at the inexpensive National Park Docks, accompanied only by the ferries and dredge when they moor for the night.  

Marsh grass at the entrance channel to Ocracoke and the harbor in Silver Lake.

It is definitely off season here, but this is a good place to hide from an upcoming gale and work on the boat.  Burt polishes the exterior stainless while I finish up the interior cleaning. We enjoy a few meals out at the local restaurants that will be packed during high season.  And, at the dock, we weather a serious gale off Hatteras that results in a lost man-overboard, a capsized catamaran, and a boat that requires a Coast Guard tow to safety.  We are protected by the high sides of the big boats moored around us, but it sure doesn’t seem like the placid spring we were expecting.

With a break in the weather, we rejoin the ICW, anchoring at the north end of the Alligator Pungo Canal 

We share our anchorage in the isolated Alligator River with just one other boat.

A typical scene along the waterway in North Carolina - it is rare to find cell phone service.

and enjoying a lovely sail across Albemarle Sound.  We have dock reservations at Coinjock, an out in the middle of nowhere marina that is famous for its prime rib dinners.  We indulge in dinner and appreciate the safe dock when the next gale blows through that night bringing one gust we measure at 48 knots.  We plan to depart the next day but the strong winds have pushed the water from the Pamlico and Albemarle Sounds into this portion of the ICW which terminates with a tidal control lock further north.  Our excess water has nowhere to go but up, effectively closing the ICW as the low swing bridges are underwater and the 65 foot bridges are several feet shorter, not a good thing when you have a high mast and measure clearances in inches.  So, here we stay in Coinjock which a friend describes as 15 miles away from the middle of nowhere.  Four days later, the water has receded with a more northerly breeze and the Army Corp of Engineers has inspected the swing bridges.  We are good to go along with the other 40 – 50 boats that have congregated here.  It is a mad house, and we wisely decide to stay at the end of the pack, listening to the many boats ahead negotiate passing situations.  Still, it gets interesting when a south bound large barge and tug reach a tight turn in the waterway just before a bridge  We hear the tug announce his approach and are able to get out of the way, but a catamaran behind us is apparently not paying attention and meets the barge just as it is approaching the bridge. The cat continues through the bridge while the tug goes into full reverse to avoid hitting him or the bridge.  Let’s say, the radio conversation is pretttty interesting.

A stop at Great Bridge allows us to replenish provisions (as nothing is available in the middle of nowhere), and we head past the naval yards in Norfolk to Hampton, Virginia.  We plan to stay a few days until conditions are good for heading up the Chesapeake, but with so many of our plans this spring, we stay longer than expected.  Rain and cold weather make a dock with electricity, and thus heat, very appealing.  The day before the cold sets in, we bike out to Fort Monroe which overlooks Hampton Roads, the confluence of the Chesapeake, James River, Elizabeth River, and inlet from the Atlantic. 

A small portion of the moat and walls at fort Monroe.

Fort Monroe is the largest fort ever build in the United States and was in service until 2011 when it reverted to the National Park Service. There have been iterations of the fort at this location since the days of the Jamestown settlement. Robert E. Lee and Edgar Allen Poe were stationed here; Jefferson Davis was imprisoned here. The Battle of the Ironclads took place just off the ramparts, and the fort became a refuge for runaway slaves who were forced to serve the Confederate Army. In later years the fort served as a training facility for the Coast Artillery Corp when many lovely homes were built on the premises for the officers stationed there.  In its new life, these home and the barracks are rental properties

A waterfront park and example of officer housings at Fort Monroe.

and the old officers’ club is a fun beachside restaurant where we enjoy lunch.

Looking forward, once the wind veers from the north and the temperatures rise above the 50’s, we will take two days to reach our next destination, Annapolis. It is mid-May, and we’re currently at 37 degrees latitude although at times it feels like 37 degrees Fahrenheit.