An Unexpected Detour

Warderick Wells to Nassau

February 6 ‒ 10

You never know what’s going to happen on a given day, when life will take you on an unexpected detour. 

Waiting at Staniel Cay airstrip
to fly to Nassau

After we had left Nassau and spent several days in the Exumas, Keith and I had to fly back Nassau because I got injured. I’m going to be fine, but my left thumb was nearly crushed as I tried to bring a line from a mooring pennant onto a boat cleat. My thumb got caught between the two with the weight of the boat pressing on it. It was so quick I’m not even quite sure how it happened.

The injury happened on Thursday, February 6, at around 1:30. From then on, God’s grace took over. We were in a remote park, and we borrowed their first-aid kit. The tissue on the outside of my thumb was lacerated, torn down to the bone, the nail ripped off, and we knew I needed stitches. But I didn’t think it was broken because I could easily bend the thumb. Keith and I applied a couple butterfly closures and wrapped it tight. I had ice in the freezer (which is rare), so I iced it for the first hour. Meanwhile, a lot was going on. It just so “happened” that Bahamas Defense Force soldiers were there with a fast boat. They zoomed us 25 miles to Staniel Cay in a half hour; we arrived within an hour of the accident.

There’s a clinic there, staffed by a nurse, and an airstrip. The nurse took one look, told us we needed to get to the States or Nassau, and wrapped it back up. Keith, during this time, caught a golf-cart ride to the airstrip and was able to secure two seats on a small plane taking off shortly for Nassau.

Dr. Neil unwrapping it to take a first look

Everything fell into place perfectly, and by 5:30, four hours later, we were in the ER of Doctor’s Hospital in Nassau. I soon learned that I have eight fractures to the distal phalange (the bone at the tip), one fracture in the proximal phalange, the next bone. But the good news is that my knuckle was not harmed and the nerves seem to be intact. These are huge blessings.

Here’s where the big miracle comes in. The plastic surgeon on call that night was super-qualified in hand- and micro-surgery. He has re-attached digits and done many reconstructions. A Jamaican who has practiced medicine in Canada, Virginia, and NYC, Dr. Neil is both very highly regarded and very kind. I got the best of care, and we don’t believe we would have found anyone more qualified no matter where we went.

Keith and I (under local anesthesia) watched the surgery as Dr. Neil put my thumb back together, and it was absolutely fascinating. Now I’m in a bulky thumb cast (which goes to the elbow!) and must not get wet. That’s a lifestyle-changer on a boat, for sure. The doctor said he treats about twenty patients per year who were on boats and lost one, two, or three fingers. It could have been much worse!

Part of the view from our balcony on Paradise Island

We needed to stay in Nassau for a follow-up visit on Monday to ensure that infection had not set in. If you’re stuck for a few days, it would be hard to find a better place for it. We were fortunate to get a deal on an all-inclusive hotel on Paradise Island. Between naps, meals, and sitting on the balcony overlooking the harbor and swimming pool, we even did a little sightseeing. My swimsuit and cast made an unusual ensemble as we strolled the length of Cabbage Beach one day. Another day we walked to The Cloisters and Versailles Garden, then through the marina at Atlantis. It really was an enjoyable stay, but we were anxious to get back home to the boat once the doctor cleared it.

Sightseeing at The Cloisters

On Monday, Dr. Neil gave me a big thumbs-up to return to the boat. There’s very little pain and no evidence of infection. Infection would be a major issue when the bone is involved, and we’ll keep watching for redness, swelling, or discharge. I know many people have been praying for me, and I appreciate it so much. Avoiding infection is my main prayer, along with full function in the future.

On February 24, less than two weeks from now, we’ll fly back to Nassau for cast removal. In the meantime, we’ll figure out how to manage with a one-handed first mate.

Perpetual thumbs-up, happy to be
flying back to the boat

While we were away, friends we’d traveled with for the past three weeks—Bob and Ilona on Ihana and Chris and Eden on Rag Doll—took care of Pelican and kept the batteries charged. We’re so thankful to them, to Andrew Kriz, the Exuma Park Administrator, and to all the others who rallied around us with generosity and kindness.

My heart’s gratitude goes especially to Keith. In many ways, my injury affects him more than it does me. He could not be more sweet, loving, and helpful in his new roles as chief cook, bottle-washer, and waiter-on-hand-and-foot. Some tasks he probably enjoys more than others, but he does it all willingly. I’m so glad he’s with me on this side trip—and every other part of life. (By the way, our first date was thirty-two years ago today!)

Warderick Wells, where I got my "boat bite"

This unexpected detour isn’t at all the kind of thing anyone would want to happen, of course! But when it did, an amazing peace came over me. I was completely calm. God’s love carried us through every turn, and everything we needed seemed to already be there for us. As we were en route to Nassau, these words from Psalm 91 kept running through my mind:

~~

“If you’ll hold on to me for dear life,” says God,

“I’ll get you out of any trouble.

I’ll give you the best of care if you’ll only

get to know and trust me” (vss 14-15 msg).

The Beautiful Berrys

North Palm Beach ‒ The Berry Islands

January 20 ‒ 27

Sugar Beach on Great Harbour Cay

The Berry Islands are a small chain of cays (“keys”) halfway between Freeport and Nassau. Easy to overlook on a map of the Bahamas, they don’t get much press. But that wasn’t always the case. Back in the 60s, an ambitious golf course, beach, and marina development on the largest of the islands, Great Harbour Cay, was the playground of the rich and famous. The Rat Pack, Brigitte Bardot, and other stars spent time there. Frank Sinatra owned a beach house on the north end. Jack Nicklaus had a home on the 18^th green. Now the expansive stone clubhouse lies in ruins, the few holes left sport more divots and weeds than grass, and the celebrities have moved on. But the natural beauty remains—especially the gorgeous beach with four miles of white sugar sand.

The cut into Great Harbour Cay Marina basin

Great Harbour Cay Marina, part of that earlier development, is located in an interior basin accessible via a channel blasted through the rocks. Its protected harbor made a charming first stop on our Bahamas itinerary. When we came into the country, we flew a yellow Q (quarantine) flag until checking in with customs in a port of entry such as this one. Then we raised the Bahamian courtesy flag.

The local people welcomed us with smiles and friendly greetings. We rented a stripped-down Suzuki Samurai with homemade plywood and plastic seats to tour all seven miles of the island’s length: its beaches and coves and the village of Bullocks Harbor, which is the largest population center in the Berrys. Cooliemae’s Restaurant served up a delicious meal of hogfish while we enjoyed a Bahamian sunset and conversation with a lovely older couple who have wintered at their home on the island since its glory days.  

One of the beaches at our anchorage

After four days of settling into a more laid-back rhythm and seeing all that Great Harbour Cay offered, we wanted see other cays in the Berry Islands. Along with three other boats, we moved south to anchor between Hoffman’s and Devil’s Cays.

The blue hole on Hoffman's Cay

This anchorage is highly recommended in the guidebooks both for its protection from different wind directions and for its access to the blue hole on Hoffman’s Cay, to Flo’s Conch Bar, and to a small archipelago of little cays, all ringed with turquoise and green water and stretches of white beach.

It’s amazing how quickly community springs up in a marina or anchorage. The several boats anchored with us held varied and interesting people, including a couple from Norway who have lived on board for eight years and their two grandsons now joining them on holiday; a chemical engineering professor and his wife, a high school chemistry teacher (from Roseville, MN!); a public health nurse and her husband, a rock climber and guidebook writer.

Chris climbing a stalactite at the blue hole

We traveled with a flotilla of three dinghies to the blue hole. After a short hike through jungly growth, we topped a rise and there it was: an impressive cobalt pool 100 yards across encircled by a 30-foot-high rock rim. A path to the right led down into a water-level cave with stalactites. Most of us jumped in and found that the super-salty water made us extra buoyant. Keith (surprise!) was the only one in our group who jumped from the rim up above.

Chester of Flo's Conch Bar

Another place that can only be reached by boat is Flo’s Conch Bar, a small outpost of a restaurant on Little Harbour Cay. Chester Darville and Lovely, the only two inhabitants of the island (not counting chickens, ducks, dogs, and cats) make their living by welcoming and feeding cruisers. It’s necessary to contact them by VHF radio and place your order several hours in advance in order to eat dinner there. Mid-afternoon, sixteen of us scrambled into a fleet of four dinghies and splashed the 2.7 miles down to Flo’s for a taste of true Bahamian cooking and, especially, for the experience.

Our little community of cruisers at Flo's Conch Bar

Aside from those side trips, we spent our three days at this spot walking on beaches of different little cays, discovering a beach bar, shelling (Joanie), snorkeling for lobster and conch (Keith—no luck yet!), reading, relaxing, breathing in the warm salt air, taking in the picturesque views from every angle—and thanking God for all these gifts of beauty and joy and life!

"Beach bar" on Goulding Cay made from trash washed ashore

Keith lounging by the beach bar

Queen Helmet Conch

On an uninhabited cay

Maybe the saying originated in the beautiful Berrys: It really IS better in the Bahamas!

Ready…Set…Wait!

Daytona Beach ‒ North Palm Beach

December 9 ‒ January 16

Christmas at home was wonderful, celebrating and enjoying time with people we love. Now we’re back on the boat and officially in full-on preparation mode. Our crossing-readiness plan looks something like this:

 

Indian River sunrise by NASA causeway

Step 1: Move farther south to a good jumping-off point. We are behind the bulk of boats crossing to The Bahamas. Maybe that’s why we were able to anchor all by ourselves on three consecutive nights. We love the silence and solitude of unshared anchorages.

One of those spots was south of Titusville right by the huge NASA facility and the causeway that takes workers to the Kennedy Space Center. We were in a manatee zone, and as the light fell, fifty feet behind the boat three different groups of manatees returned from their daytime feeding grounds. They traveled in a line with just a small part of their bodies exposed and, as the Waterway Guide says, resembled floating coconuts.

On Monday, January 13, we arrived at our launch point: Palm Beach (Lake Worth Inlet).

Lighthouse at St. Lucie Inlet

Step 2: Order last-minute supplies. A second pole spear and cedar plugs should help Keith land a few super-fresh seafood dinners. (Watch out, lobsters and mahi-mahi! Or, on second thought, Never mind!)

Step 3: Top off all tanks. It’s no surprise that fuel is more expensive in The Bahamas. However, it was a little culture shock on our first trip to learn that water (reverse-osmosis), being such a precious commodity, most often sells for $0.50/gallon. We don’t have a water-maker as quite a few cruisers do, so we economize by washing and rinsing a sinkful of dishes in two cups of water and showering with what feels like the same amount.

Step 4: Provision with perishables. Just before we go, we’ll pack the refrigerator/freezer with produce, meat, and fresh dairy items. Basic staples can be found in any settlement, not to mention fish, lobster, and conch. Even certain luxury items like fresh Irish butter are available for very low prices. But paper goods and more specialized groceries are very expensive. Make the list and check it twice. (Non-perishable foods are already crammed into every available cranny.)

A portion of our non-perishables

Step 5: Make passage foods. Who wants to slice and dice as the cutting board—the entire galley—pitches and rolls? A couple comfort-food meals will be on standby for a quick warm-up.

Step 6: Study charts and entry points. Decide on a course and destination (we’re thinking Great Harbour Cay in the Berry Islands). Then study some more and keep the options open, depending on Step 7, below.

Step 7: Wait for a weather window. A “weather window” means no strong northerly winds opposing the Stream’s north-flowing current, building big seas and making the passage uncomfortable, even dangerous. We just missed one crossing opportunity because we weren’t yet ready. Now cold fronts are stacking up, arriving every couple days. It looks like at least next week before a window that allows us to cross the Gulf Stream.

Of course, no matter how prepared we may try to be, so much is outside of our control. And so we try to wait patiently, watching for what God may bring our way today, right where we are. Ready…set…wait!

~~~

Patience is…not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control.

Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment,

to taste the here and now, to be where we are.

When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are.

We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later and somewhere else.

Let’s be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand.

Henri J. M. Nouwen

One Marker at a Time

St. Augustine - Daytona Beach, FL

December 8

We noticed fog rolling in from the ocean as we cast off lines to leave St. Augustine. No problem, we thought. It should burn off in a half hour. Wrong! Saturated, soggy air condensed above the water into a thick pea soup that lasted for four hours. We strained to make out each marker, one by one, to avoid straying into shallow water.

Add caption

Compounding that, it was low tide. When we saw the first sailboat grounded outside the channel, we wished we could assist them without becoming stuck ourselves but had to continue on.

Then a tiny fishing boat emerged from the mist, loaded with camping gear, a cooler, and a man, woman, and little boy. The woman called out to us, asking for a tow. They’d camped on an island overnight and in the morning their engine refused to start. The boat landing was two miles away—a long way to row with two undersized paddles. The little boy said we looked like a pirate ship appearing out of the fog. When we dropped them off close to their destination, they were so grateful and we were just as thankful to be able to help.

 Clawing through near-zero visibility, we kept going when suddenly we pitched forward, aground. We’d heeded a guidebook recommendation to give the red marker wide berth and ran aground toward the green side. Keith rocked us free (whew!), and soon we got stuck again, pushed by the current (oops!). And again (yikes!). Persistence paid off; we found the deeper water and glided on.

Around the next bend, we came upon a motor yacht with a draft of three-and-a-half feet hard aground where the charts indicated ten feet of depth. The captain stood in waist-deep water coaxing his vessel back afloat.

In spite of our best efforts, we got into trouble in the fog. With our limited visibility, we had to depend more than ever on our GPS, chart plotter, and paper charts. It was an illustration of the times we find ourselves in a fog and can’t see beyond our limited understanding. That’s when we need to depend more than ever on the One who came at Christmas to be our Light and show us the way. One marker at a time.

~~~

 Through the heartfelt mercies of our God,

God's Sunrise will break in upon us,
 Shining on those in the darkness,

those sitting in the shadow of death,

Then showing us the way, one foot at a time,

down the path of peace.

Luke 1:78-79 msg

~~~

Florida’s First Coast

Fernandina Beach to St. Augustine
December 4‒7

Sea buoy outside
Fernandina Beach

Land ho! At 8 a.m., we made landfall on Florida’s First Coast, tying up in Fernandina Beach minutes before fog settled in. Finally we had arrived in the southernmost state.

After a long morning nap, we woke to a sunny, warm day and called friends John and Sally Ginn, whom we’d met through our Sunday morning community back home at Christ Presbyterian Church. They recently moved to Fernandina Beach on Amelia Island, and we’d promised to connect when we got there. But there was a little complication: Sally’s appendix ruptured a week before Thanksgiving, and two days earlier she had been released after eleven days in the hospital. What a trooper! She and John came to meet us at the marina late that afternoon, and Sally looked great. They took us on a short driving tour of their new town and island before treating us to all-you-can-eat shrimp at one of their favorite restaurants. Wonderful conversation with friends from “back home” was good medicine for all of us.

With John and Sally Ginn

Fernandina Beach makes numerous claims to fame. It’s the northernmost city in Florida and the one with the first sunset (over the Amelia River). It’s the only American city that has had eight different flags flown over it since 1562 (but wasn’t continually settled since then so it can’t call itself the oldest city in the nation). It boasts the oldest continually operating bar in the country (during Prohibition it was converted to an ice-cream parlor). Mostly, Fernandina Beach is just downright charming. We look forward to our next stopover, even more so now that we have friends to visit there.

The next day, December 5, was Keith’s birthday. He chose our destination for the night: a roomy anchorage by Pine Island that we ended up sharing with eleven other boats. It was calm and perfect. Just like Keith.

Castillo de San Marco, St. Augustine

Entrance to the Bridge of Lions

Then it was a quick hop to St. Augustine, America’s oldest city, the next morning. As we approached by water, the most dominant feature of the cityscape, Castillo de San Marco, rose from the shoreline to stand guard over the inlet. Soon after Ponce de Leon’s arrival, in 1565 the imposing citadel was erected by the Spanish to protect military and missionary outposts on a new continent. Now it stands as an impressive monument to the town’s colonial roots. In the Old Town, narrow lanes and balconied homes more closely reflect Spanish colonial style than any other city in the United States.

The Bridge of Lions

Other distinctive landmarks, including the beautiful Bridge of Lions and the three ornate hotels built by Henry Flagler in the late 1800s to draw tourists to a new resort city, still draw tourists and impart an Old World flavor.

Originally the Ponce de Leon Hotel, now part of Flagler College

It so happened that the annual Christmas parade took place on Saturday morning during our visit.  Crowds lined the route to see police motorcycles, horse-drawn carriages, marching bands, young cadets in lockstep, twirling groups, church floats with carol singers, Scout troops, antique cars, bagpipe ensembles, a white Siberian tiger (caged), a large contingent of Newfoundland dogs, and much more. “Merry Christmases” were tossed out like candy.

Marching in the Christmas Parade

The Christmas parade

Sloppy Merry Christmas wishes

Young Cadets in the Christmas parade

That same evening, another exciting event played out: the British Night Watch and Grand Illumination Parade, a reenactment of the short-lived British rule in St. Augustine from 1763‒1783.  Revolutionary War‒era reenactors came from far and wide to encamp near the fort over the weekend. A “volley of joy”—the firing of muskets—seemed fitting on that day. It was the one-year anniversary of our nephew Matthew Bailey’s death. Matt loved historical reenacting, encampments, and firing muskets with his dad. We could imagine him there. In a festive and heartwarming finish to the evening, the whole community sang Christmas carols in the plaza.

The British Night Watch

The "volley of joy" -- great timing, Keith!

Our nephew Matt with his dad -- both now in heaven

Florida’s First Coast: our first landing, a first in history, first on our list of great places to visit in Florida.

Navigating by Starlight

Port Royal Sound to Fernandina Beach, FL

December 2‒3

Our first trip offshore took us from Port Royal Sound, north of Hilton Head, to Fernandina Beach, Florida—an easy overnight run. For the previous couple weeks, chilly winds persistently blew from the northeast, which would have provided good sailing on this leg of the journey. By the time we were ready to leave, though, winds had switched to light and southerly. We weren’t able to sail but had a very comfortable ride. It was one of those trade-offs.

Well out to sea, the rose-gold disk of the sun painted the clouds periwinkle and slid out of sight, splashing farewell shimmers of purple and gold across the rippled water. Clouds closed in, the world turned indigo, and we were alone, not another boat in sight. Feeling so tiny in an immense world fostered a holy sense of awe, reminding us we were not alone at all.

Pelican sashayed across gently rolling swells, making steady progress in light headwinds. We bundled up and traded watches through the night. On one of my watches, I leaned out from the cockpit to see if there were any stars, and the dazzling display took my breath away. “Oh,” I gasped, “it’s beautiful, Lord! You’re amazing.” Fifteen miles from shore, with a new moon and no reflected light, an unimaginable number of stars filled the sky. They were brilliant! And behind the stars, held in reserve, was another field of distant stars—tiny pinpricks of light tossed into the universe in swirls. I was wonderstruck! I’d never seen anything like it. It made my soul soar, navigating by starlight.

In this season of Advent, I thought of another star, singularly brilliant, and of other travelers navigating by starlight—not knowing what they would find but convinced the journey was worth everything. I want to travel with them, to keep following the star’s light to God-with-us, the true Wonder of all.

~~~

The heavens are telling the glory of God;

they are a marvelous display of his craftsmanship.
Day and night they keep on telling about God.
Without a sound or word, silent in the skies,

their message reaches out to all the world.

Psalm 19:1-3 tlb

~~~

Home Away from Home

Bluffton, SC

November 19 – December 2

Since we began this cruise we’d been looking forward to reconnecting with Claus and Rachael at their new house in Bluffton, South Carolina. During the five months we cruised together in 2007-2008, we alternated dinners on one boat or the other every night with rare exceptions, and they quickly became cherished friends for life.

Originally we expected to spend a few days with them, but not long after they met us on the docks the plan changed to “through Thanksgiving.” We were delighted to be able to spend the holiday with people we love.

Thanksgiving. Let the feast begin.

We made a feast of it! Rachael and I both love to cook. When we’re in the kitchen together, we bounce creative culinary ideas back and forth. If I say so myself, we assembled a blue-ribbon spread. It included everyone’s favorites: two kinds of mashed potatoes, three kinds of stuffing, a deliciously rich pecan pie and creamy pumpkin pie made from a real pumpkin, not a can. Last but not least, a low-carb pecan pie for me that was almost as good as the real thing. When we counted our blessings around the table, high on the list the good gifts God has given this year was spending the day with friends who feel like family.

Here's to great friends!

Part of the reason for our longer layover was that Pelican needed to go to a boatyard (again!) for routine maintenance. She was vibrating while cruising under power (cutlass bearing replaced: check) and leaking water around the prop shaft (dripless shaft seal replaced: check). The day before Thanksgiving she dropped back in the water, and we discovered a small problem: “forward” and “reverse” were switched. Oops!

Four little elves and Bentley

That fix would have to wait until Monday after Thanksgiving. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. First, Claus and Rachael’s was a comfy infirmary for Keith and me to recover from nasty colds, with Rachael dispensing all kinds of natural remedies. It also gave us time to help decorate their Christmas tree, sing along with the first carols of the season, and surprise Keith with an early birthday celebration. When our visit inflated from a few days to two weeks, our incredible hosts-with-the-most could not possibly have made us feel more loved and welcome. Their home was truly our home away from home. 

Two Charming Southern Belles

Charleston to Beaufort, SC

November 16-18

On our itinerary through the South Carolina Low Country we visited two of the most beautiful cities on the ICW—Charleston and Beaufort. As it extends from Georgetown to Savannah, some of the Low Country’s prettiest features are centuries-old live oaks, gleaming sea-grass flats, serpentine waterways, historic plantations, and sixty low-lying barrier islands.

First we had to get to Charleston. The tidal range in this area is around six feet, meaning that at high tide the water is six feet deeper than at low tide. Depths listed on the nautical charts indicate Mean Low Water (MLW), the average low tide level. The controlling depth of the ICW is supposed to be twelve feet MLW. However, there are multiple trouble spots that are too shallow (or “skinny”) at low tide for a typical sailboat with a draft between five and six feet. We had researched these problem stretches. To death. But we forgot to review one tiny note we’d jotted down about a spot just north of Ben Sawyer Bridge, a half mile from Charleston harbor. While I called the bridge tender on the VHF radio to request an opening, suddenly Pelican lurched and slowed to almost zero. Mid-sentence, I blurted out, “Whoa! We just hit something. I’ll call back!” And then, “Oops, Honey, I’m sorry I announced that on the radio!” Usually we’d keep a minor mishap to ourselves. Happily, as soon as we hit that mid-channel bump we were free and clear of it. Whew! So we made the bridge opening, but better yet, we weren’t hard aground like a couple sailboats we heard on the radio an hour later.

Charleston's old Customs House

 We felt so fortunate that the one full day we could spend in Charleston, our favorite Low-Country city, was spectacular. She welcomed us with unseasonable warmth, her handsome antebellum homes and churches striking a picturesque pose. We did our own walking tour, strolling through the market, down to the Battery, and on back streets not written up in tourist guides. Sunlight spilled onto window boxes and gardens still bright with blooms.

The Dock Street Theater, Charlest

Keith will tell you that I rarely let an opportunity to take a picture of a beautiful old church pass me by. This time the ornamented pink Gothic style of the French Huguenot Church caught my eye. Between 1680 and 1700 more than four hundred and fifty French Protestants (Huguenots) arrived in Charleston as persecution in France pushed them to the New World. Many of them were middle-class merchants, and they helped form the backbone of Charleston society. Today the Huguenot church, the French Quarter, and the names of the most prominent families are lasting reminders of that French influence.

The French Huguenot Church, Charleston

We capped the day with dinner at our favorite Charleston restaurant, FIG. A perfect ending to a perfect day with the first southern belle.

Then on to pay a call to the next charming lady: Beaufort, South Carolina. 

With Claus, Rachael, and "Handsome" in Beaufort

The Anchorage, a tabby house, Beaufort

We caught up with Claus and Rachael Newman, our dear sailing buddies from our last cruise, and went on a horse-drawn carriage ride through Beaufort. It seemed appropriate to tour the old town in period transportation. Beaufort’s entire historic district has been declared a National Historic Landmark. We clip-clopped under canopies of moss-laden live oaks to see antebellum mansions, businesses, churches, and even graveyards. Some historians say that Beaufort may have been the wealthiest city in the United States before the Civil War, that it was considered the “Newport of the South.” Providentially the homes and landmarks of this southern city didn’t fall victim to burning and destruction during the Civil War because it fell to Union occupation in 1861.

Gracious Southern living, Beaufort

Being from a place whose American history began two centuries later than the historical cities in this area gives them a sense of nobility and timelessness. Part of the appeal of our journey is the great stopping places—exciting new “backyards” all along the way. Like these two gracious southern belles.

In the Palmetto State, Beaufort

Cold Front

November 12-14

Georgetown, SC to Whiteside Creek, SC

In spite of their best efforts, our friends and family up north may take just a little bit of pleasure in the fact that, in spite of our best efforts to get south, we recently shivered through South Carolina temperatures ten degrees colder than those in Minnesota. We really don't expect sympathy, though, from people who have already seen snow a few times this winter!

Gale-force winds and overnight temperatures of twenty-six degrees were predicted, and Georgetown, South Carolina, became our port in the storm. Of course there were silver linings to those clouds. For one thing, we happened upon an almost-six-hundred-year-old Champion Live Oak tree. (A champion tree is the largest of its species in South Carolina, as recognized by The American Forestry Associates and Clemson University.)

The Champion Live Oak Tree



Prince George Winyah Episcopal Church,
finished in 1757

Walking around town, we saw historic homes built while kings ruled the Carolinas, an Episcopal church whose bricks had been the ballast of British sailing ships, and the town's iconic clock tower. Unfortunately, we missed the row of seven historic downtown waterfront buildings that burned down on October 25.

Georgetown's Clock Tower



Once the cold front passed and laundry passed the daisy-fresh test, it was time to move on. As we left Georgetown, a gray-and-orange Coast Guard inflatable came alongside and asked to board Pelican. They primarily wanted to check that we have all the required safety equipment, like life preservers, fire extinguishers, a waste disposal plan, and more. We’d never been boarded before, and my first response was Oh no! What are they going to nail us for? But the two Coasties who stepped onto our boat were real gentlemen. We found common ground with both of them. One had grown up in the Bahamas, the son of medical missionaries (Keith spent five years in the Bahamas while his parents were missionaries there). The other had lived in Hudson, Wisconsin, for a while. Close enough. After a thorough safety inspection they issued a “good as gold” certificate. Thankfully, at the end of October Keith had checked the expiration date on our flares (2004!) and replaced them. Otherwise, we’d have been issued a citation instead.

That evening we returned to a favorite anchorage from previous trips. Whiteside Creek, just a few miles north of Charleston, is a ribbon of deep blue washing between banks of golden marsh grass. The presence of only one other boat made for a peaceful night, although the captain woke up every time the tidal current switched to check that we wouldn’t snag our anchor buoy when we swung in the opposite direction.

 The excitement had died down, the cold front moved out to sea. All was well.