Only a week has gone by since we left Oriental, but I had to pull out the log to untangle the line of days and ports. Only our growing collection of boat cards helps sort out the boats and their owners. Two boat families stand out. We loved a visit from two year old Michael and three month old Alex's family. Alex was born on board and Michael's permanent wardrobe is a lifejacket. He immediately got to work adjusting all our switches, testing all our nuts and bolts, and inserting anything to be found into all available openings. Alex just smiled. Great boat kids with good parents, but an hour was enough. Then we met two women on a new boat headed for Trinidad. They had all the equipment and all the training, so why not. One said she was a retired nun, which is so incongruent I'm still questioning my hearing. They had lots of questions and Lee's main advice was to slow down and do it in two years.
A 20 mile run from Oriental to Beaufort (that's Bo-fort, NC, not Bew-fort, SC) left us plenty of time to anchor in the creek in front of the historic waterfront area and do a walk and museum visit. A short film on the wild horses tempted us to venture over to the Rachel Carson preserve to see them up close, but we never found any sign of a trail. After the poisonous snake exhibit at the museum, there was no way I was trudging through the marsh. We did see one horse from the boat. We had no more success finding a burger for dinner and just about gave up before we found a pool hall with a few tables. The entire length of the waterfront displayed only elegant menus with equally intimidating prices. The anchorage was full of boats, since this is a jumping off spot for boats headed for the Caribbean. Maybe they were willing to splurge for a last meal.
We went south only a few miles to Morehead City, where the Sanitary Restaurant lets boaters tie up for a meal. We bought the meal to share, but what we really wanted was access to the highway so Lee could ride his bike to pick up his new anchor. He thought about wearing a "need ride" sign to get back, but ended up hiring a taxi. I do love the new anchor, even though it is too big and has made a "insignificant" hole in the boat.
Halloween night we anchored at Swansboro and went for a walk thinking we would see lots of Trick-or-Treaters; we saw one. Swansboro may have historic old houses, but it doesn't seem to have any people, must be the wrong time of day or year.
We sailed right through the Camp Lejeune area,where a green light assured us they weren't having target practice across our heads that day. We skipped a favorite overnight at Carolina Beach State Park after hearing the docks were under repair and stayed instead at an anchorage just before the cut over to Cape Fear River. For the first time in all our ICW trips the tide was right to head up the river to Wilmington. The current can run up to six knots which is intimidating for a boat which goes seven knots. Wilmington must have more bars per foot downtown than the average, each with only a few patrons. It is the county seat with a community college downtown, so at least there were people out and about. It was a contender in the "I could live here" contest with a "if I had to" clause. I had my heart set on seeing a movie at the restored downtown theater. We got there an hour early and found only one ticket left.
But the lady at the box office had a cancellation and generously gave us that ticket. We watched what turned out to be a private showing of "The Horse Boy", a documentary made by an autisic boy's father about his journey to the ends of the earth (Mongolia) searching for a cure . A local foundation was kicking off a fundraiser for a spring conference and many of the caregivers for autistic children were there. One mom gave a moving introduction to the movie. So we felt less transient and part of a community for a little while. It's hard to get a feel for a community with only 24 hours to do it. I've always like the idea of staying a month in each place, maybe someday.
We worked with the tide again to get back down the river and onto the ICW the next morning. There seems to have been a higher than usual tide the past few weeks and we had no trouble getting through Lockwood Folly area. The name comes from a boat builder whose folly was building a boat too big to ever get out the inlet. The continuing folly is the number of small boats anchored in the middle of the channel fishing obliviously. We managed to skirt around their lines and not disturb their concentration.
It's a nice balance alternating the small town anchorages with the isolated river ones. The chart now shows winding rivers (Lee hates the ones that go northwest away from the Bahamas) connected with short cuts, only marshes and trees with hanging moss and lots of boats headed south. We anchored with a few other boats just at dusk at Calabash River, again deliriously happy when the anchor grabbed the first time. We got to sit on the deck sipping a glass of wine watching another boat reanchor countless times. They were gone when we woke up, but we heard later they drug at 2 am and woke up in two feet of water. They moved to the next marina at that point. You probably have to be a boater to fully understand the peace of mind a good anchor can give you. When Lee gets back after months on the boat, he continues to sit up in bed, look out at the trees and question why they're so close.
Our next stop, Georgetown, was a "can live here with no clauses" kind of town. We even met a newcomer from Massachussetts who said they chose it over many other towns they considered. We anchored, did our walk-about, stopped at the shrimpboat dock to buy dinner and feasted on fresh shrimp and scallops. Of course we had to go for breakfast where the locals eat at Thomas Diner. We called Miss Nell, a retired school secretary, whose walking tours we always take, and arranged a morning tour. We even talked other boaters on the sidewalk into coming along. She is involved with the preservation district which dictates absolutely everything but color (and they're working on that) and a bargain at $7 a tour. She even hugged us good-by and apologized for keeping us too long. This year's tour included the grounds of a landscape architect's house, the asking prices of houses on the market, and a little local gossip. We went back to Thomas's to share the advertised turkey dinner, not too shy anymore about asking for an extra plate. It's usually just too much food not to share. A walk on the docks caught us up with boaters we'd been playing leapfrog with the past few days. We got to hear about Avocet's anchoring problems, see Freedom's polished beauty up close, and make new friends to invite for Dominoes. I knocked on the door of Mrs June Ross, (Miss Nell told me to), and got invited in for a visit and a viewing of her famous applique quilts. We walked to the Piggley Wiggley grocery (too far to walk, as we always hear when we ask directions) and got back after dark. This day sums up what is best about this boating life: when you wake up in the morning you have no idea what's in store, and it's mostly good.
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