It is mid-September, and we are beginning our trek
south. By skipping the Annapolis Boat
Show, we have allowed ourselves to travel at a more leisurely pace, absent the
crowds of south bound boats that generally leave a little later. Rather than sprint down the Chesapeake, we
make the trip in three shorter hops, even spending an extra night at Solomon’s
Island with friends, giving us an opportunity to visit Burt’s favorite Tiki Bar
that offers complimentary all you can eat popcorn. After cruising by the Newport Naval docks
which are surprisingly empty,
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| Destroyer row with the hospital ship Comfort to right - wonder if it is off Liberia now |
we are fortunate to get a free dock in Portsmouth, allowing us
to spend an evening at the historical Commodore Theater for a movie and, in
Burt’s case, more popcorn. And it is
here that we officially start the ICW. Eleven miles later and a frustrating
holdup with a tug and barge that get priority over the other cruising boats at
a well known bottleneck, we make it to Great Bridge for two nights, giving us
access to groceries, laundry, other stores, and an opportunity to chat with the
director of the now expanding Great Bridge Historical Park. Right next to our tie up along the wall of
the ICW, the Battle of Great Bridge, a turning point in the Revolutionary War,
was fought. The park expansion will include indoor areas to compliment the
outdoor interpretive displays and even some enhanced facilities for the many
cruisers who stop here on their way north and south. And for the residents of Great Bridge,
we are the display as many locals stop by to chat while strolling through the
park.
So, refreshed and replenished, we head down the ICW into the
swamp lands of southern Virginia and northern North Carolina. It is a cold morning and the “smoke on the
water” makes navigating through the cypress swamps challenging.
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| A crisp early morning motor down the ICW |
Since it is a Sunday, we don’t have to deal
with bridges timed for rush hour traffic, and we make good time, allowing us to
cross the Albemarle Sound just before
sunset.
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| Sunset along the Alligator River, just south of Ablemarle Sound |
One more day, in which the wind
cooperates enough to give us a few hours of motorless sailing, we are poised to
leave the ICW and head over to Ocracoke
Island at the south end
of the Outer Banks. The National Park
Service maintains docks there, and with our senior citizen park pass, we spend
three very inexpensive nights at the facility.
Ocracoke is a magical place off season. There are few tourists and the locals are
more relaxed and friendly. It is a place
that transports you back in time; some streets are paved in oyster shells and
life just seems simpler and slower as the only way to get here is by private
boat or ferry. We enjoy a day at the
endless beach, rimmed with natural sand dunes – there are no condos or high
rises here to spoil the view.
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| Oceanside beach at Ocracoke |
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| A shrimp boat right off Ocracoke Beach - Burt really enjoyed the fresh shrimp bought in the harbor |
It has
gotten warm and humid, so the water, kept temperate by the nearby Gulf Stream, feels especially pleasant. We bike and hike back to the site of
Blackbeard’s capture and decapitation by the US Navy. After all, this area was
a favorite hideout for pirates.
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| Hiking trail along the bay at Ocracoke where Blackbeard was captured |
And one
night we visit the small local theater to see a wonderful performance by
Molasses Creek, the Ocracoke bluegrass/folk band that made the national scene
as part of Garrison Keillor’s Prairie
Home Companion.
As always, weather controls our cruising itinerary, so with
a window that will allow us to head offshore, we reluctantly leave Ocracoke and
head past Beaufort, NC
to Cape Lookout. One of three major capes
along the southeast coast, Cape Lookout forms a 270 degree protected anchorage
that extends out into the Atlantic. Just a narrow bank of sand dunes separates us
from the ocean, but inside it is calm and populated by dolphins, sea turtles,
and, we hear, plenty of bull sharks - no swimming for the crew of Exuberant!
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| Sunset at Cape Lookout, looking towards the Shackleford Banks and mainland |
We
have anchored here to allow a front to go through during the late evening which
does happen, accompanied by an impressive display of lightning. After the wind
clocks north and dies slightly, we leave long before dawn to head to Masonboro
Inlet near Wrightsville
Beach. The wind holds for
most of the passage, and we have a wonderful sail to the southwest. We head
through the inlet and rejoin the ICW for a short hop to Carolina Beach
and four nights in their mooring field.
This is our first visit to Carolina Beach,
and we want to have time to explore the area while awaiting what has been
predicted to be a significant storm system to pass through. Carolina Beach
is a typical ocean front resort town with some impressive houses, but also many
smaller motels and cottages along the beach and boardwalk. It is a place that
is trying with small steps to become more upscale. But we have come for other reasons. I have become intrigued with pine needle
basket making, and the hard to find Carolina Long Needle Pines grow here. We bike over to the State Park that abuts the
Cape Fear River and ask if it is permissible
to gather needles in the park. The
friendly ranger tells us removing anything from the park is illegal, but later
comes back to say we would be welcome to take needles from her yard as actually
they are a nuisance this time of year. Meanwhile, she recommends a few hikes through
the park and even takes us to a hidden spot where we can see Venus Flytraps
growing in the wild.
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| Venus Flytraps at Carolina State Park - they are actually quite small |
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| It may be fall, but wildflowers are still blooming nearby |
This is the only
area of the world where they and several other carnivorous plants grow
naturally in the boggy soil. We take another hike along the Cape
Fear River through marsh and pine woods to a sand dune generated
by the ever changing river bed.
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| Hiking along the dunes at Carolina Beach State Park under a canopy of Live Oaks |
The next day we again hop on our bikes and ride to the
remains of Fort Fisher,
a huge fort that guarded the entrance to the Cape Fear River and access to Wilmington during the
Civil War. Towards the end of the War, Wilmington was the only
seaport not successfully blockaded by the Union forces. It took two tries for the Union Navy and
ground forces to finally take the fort, providing what was probably the death
knell for the Confederacy. Only ten
percent of the fort remains today as shore erosion has staked its claim.
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| Live Oaks, permanently bent by the ocean wind, obscure remains of the fort |
Nevertheless, the earthen works are most
impressive. Just down the road is the
North Carolina Aquarium, and we are suckers for aquariums. Before entering the main building, we stop at
a butterfly pavilion to admire the many varieties of butterflies on
display. Hundred of blue ones flutter
around our heads in quite a spectacle.
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| Blue butterflies from Central America flutter around a dish of fruit where other butterflies have already perched |
Inside, like most aquariums, there are
tanks with regional fish and some that are more exotic.
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| An albino alligator is sheltered at the aquarium - in the wild it would die due to UV exposure |
Burt is entranced by the many varieties of
jelly fish.
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| Luminous jelly fish seems to be otherworldly |
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| A solitary jellyfish displays its tenacles |
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| The invasive lionfish - the scourge of tropical reefs everywhere due to it voracious appetite |
Black clouds are gathering,
so we madly pedal up to the nearest town for lunch and an opportunity to wait
out a passing squall. With a break in
the rain, it is another several mile sprint back to the dinghy. Just as we cast
off the dock, the rain lets loose, and we get a good drenching. And that’s the way it is going to be for the
next day, with torrential rain at times but none of the gale force winds that
were predicted. We spend the next day
confined to the boat, reading, doing chores, and sorting and cleaning the
treasure trove of needles that someday will become baskets.
