Man O Pause

X-ing File #6_A Gulf Stream Crossing & the Atlantic ICW

Brunswick to Beaufort

Hot cars, hot BBQ from a trailer and a vast, old boat
for sale.  Brunswick had lots to offer.

Our arrival in Brunswick was without precedent.  The waters were deep – such a joy, and the marina located in an historic seaport dating from 1771.  We needed a stop to refuel, re-provision and recuperate.  What we did not anticipate was to be met (and boarded) by the Coast Guard (day 1), a tornado warning (day 2) and a blizzard (not actually but it felt like it - day 3).  Still, we had a great time, starting with a car show and Farmers Market in a nearby park, a bike ride through interesting side streets of old town, a decent supermarket and finally a friendly cruiser “pot luck” evening at the marina where GS was able to have her fill of girl-talk, library books and wine.  We really did like Brunswick Landing Marina and might have stayed (forever) but decided to push on for the Chesapeake.  I think it was the tornado warning that did our heads in (or maybe it was the not-so-Thai food!).

Historic Buildings

And lots of beautiful parks

Well cared for historic homes

Low tide at Brunswick Landing - quite the tidal range in Georgia!

Georgia is a series of barrier islands, marshes and wide river inlets that show regular glimpses of the Atlantic.  Our challenge was to weave our way through these without hitting mud or shoals.  We found ourselves in the company of “Hakuna Matala” taking turns at leading the way, sometimes at full steam, others cautiously.  We anchored “wild” for the first time in Bear River, not wanting to leave the ICW too far off.  The bug house was connected (our insect curtains lowered to fully enclose us) to protect from midges (no-see-ums) and other nasties that inhabit the marshes here.  The night was peaceful and our only trauma in the early dawn was to have a fellow traveller watch us flounder as we grounded.  Whoops – caught cutting the corner to get back onto the magenta line!  Still we got off… (aren’t bow thrusters just the best) ready to take on Hell Gate, only a few miles away.

Really, we shouldn't moan about the depth of our keel

Moon River

“Liberty” followed us through Hell Gate and we both watched in amazement as a cruise ship (yes, unbelievable) attempted this shallow cut between islands in Ogeechee River.  We left them to it, making for Vernon and Moon Rivers (you know, that famous song Moon River – this is it and a lovely spot it is too!).  Next was the challenging Skidaway Narrows, home to a river otter population (none deemed to show their whiskery faces), before crossing the Savannah River and officially leaving Georgia.  We crossed Calibrouge and then Port Royal Sounds (both taking ages as we picked our way around shoal waters) before heading up a deep, rather turbulent Beaufort River (due to strong currents) to our destination of historic Beaufort for a well-earned break.  Hooray y’all!  We’ve survived Georgia and are now in deep South Carolina!

With one or two more bridges to go yet a-while

Liberty Belle*

X-ing File #6_A Gulf Stream Crossing & the Atlantic ICW

St Marys to Brunswick

(*A patriotic Southern Shrimp Boat)

WJ3 on anchor in St Marys River on a low, low tide

St Mary’s sits off Cumberland Sound, one of the more accessible deep-water inlets along the shallow Atlantic coastline.  The sound’s regular dredging has more to do with nearby Kings Bay Submarine Base than keeping keel boaters happy.  We had been tempted to do a portion of our trip “outside”, however regular, almost weekly, bouts of bad weather barrelling down the coast kept us on the ICW, with a plan to slow down, watch the tides and respect identified problem areas (aka really shallow ones).  

We had anchored off St Mary’s eyeing off the remains of the marina and a flotilla of broken boats – more hurricane damage and certainly not something that a small town could easily repair.  It was quite nice though to be off the ICW, a bit of a treadmill at this time of year, with many boaters returning home (or heading north) for summer.  Not that we’ve had too much warm weather to speak of!

Lots of historic homes

And plenty of Spanish Moss

Historically, St Marys dates back to 1767, early settlers included British and Acadian French.  By the 1870’s, it was prospering as a seaport.  Fortunately, St Marys survived the Civil War years and found new wealth in lumber, canning and fertilizer businesses.  Tobacco and cotton brought further wealth to the town.  We strolled through wide streets lined with well-cared for homes dating from colonial, antebellum and Victorian times, many with a view over wild marshes and uninhabited islands lining the complex river systems of this area. 

Orange Hall  c.1830-38, once surrounded by an orange orchard.
It is classic antebellum in Greek Revival Style

After a brief stopover, it was back to tide watching and that magenta line, our yellow brick road equivalent.  Luckily, our timing was perfect to sit at the back of three sailboats to watch their every move through those designated danger zones and many other surprises the ICW offers the unwary.  We were moving into Low Country.  Thank goodness for Navionics and our iPad!

Shallow water in the creek behind Jekyll Island sent us back to an anchorage near a small but popular marina.  Originally established as a plantation (cattle and maize), Jekyll Island became a fashionable spot in the late 1800’s for wealthy elite with a palatial club house, beach houses, a golf course, tennis courts, stables and a marina for their splendid yachts.  This once isolated pleasure estate is now a state park with much of it remaining undeveloped, although we spied a water park and a bridge to bring over the hoi polloi in cars.  As tempting as it was to bicycle “Millionaires Row”, we had our sights set on a Brunswick landing.  

Chip Ahoy

X-ing File #6_A Gulf Stream Crossing & the Atlantic ICW

Ridin' the Ditch: Daytona to St Marys

Jacksonville Beach homes along the river...

Having spent the best part of a week working on tracking down and successfully fixing our electrical problems, it was time to move on.  The marina was a pleasant community with friendly neighbours, Gayle & Bill (Starting Over), showing us how appealing this kind of lifestyle can be.  However, our schedule had slipped and plans needed to be modified – yet again…  Mindful of tide times, and the notorious shoal at Matanzas Inlet (reminder to self: Spanish for “massacre”) across the ICW up ahead, we left early.  Our planning paid off and we successfully crept over shallow waters without incident. 

Our plan was to stop at St Augustine, a popular tourist town.  However, the anchorage had been transformed into a vast mooring field.  We didn’t plan to re-visit this historic city, so found a quiet anchorage just off the ICW, suitable for an early morning start.  With luck we could catch high tide and some (hopefully enough) water over the inlet.  Winds were up and the day overcast even at that hour, so it was hardly surprising to see Atlantic waves crashing over shoals.  We couldn’t get into the safety of the Tolomato River fast enough.  This is a deep river with fortunately few surprises.

Well, I think we're on a river somewhere. 

Needless to say, the weather closed in and at one stage; we (read GS) threw out the anchor in a wild corner of the river and sat out the heavy downpour and thunderstorms raging all around us.  We had dressed for the day in thermals and wet weather gear – ocean going gear for a run up a nice protected river!  All was now sodden, the inside of the boat almost as wet as the outside too.  Adding a further touch of the surreal to the scene, a huge ray chose that moment to spring from the river’s depths.

In a moment of respite, we up-anchored and moved on, hoping to find better conditions.  Our visibility quickly dropped again with more heavy downpours.  Trying to navigate by instruments alone proved very challenging.  We also muttered as hot water boats powered by, occupants snug and dry behind glass enclosed bridges, undoubtedly with heaters on.  Some had windscreen wipers!!  Pine Island anchorage had our name on it; the Cap’n relented and GS stopped moaning.  We called it a day and settled in, hoping for a little sun in the morning.  

Pine Island next morning showed a promising day ahead

Neighbours at Pine Island headed north in the early morning with us.  After picking our way across St Johns River’s interesting array of channel markets and shallow water, we allowed “Phoenix” to lead hoping to “stalk” them.  It proved to be an excellent decision given that we avoided going aground at least three times that day.  I should add that we were travelling, unavoidably, on a low tide.  Georgia has a much greater tidal range than Florida, so our days from now on would be short and very tide related.  

After passing smoking, odorous pulp mills at Fernandina Beach and noting much hurricane damage, we welcomed the deep waters of Cumberland Sound and made for St Marys, one of the oldest cities in the US.  It sits along a pretty river snaking its way westward through marshland, marking the border between Florida and Georgia.  Yep, Georgia.  Even better, the sun was shining and our Cap’n declared the electrics now fully functional.  Headway at last!

Early morning on St Marys River

Silly Rabbit

X-ing File #6_A Gulf Stream Crossing & the Atlantic ICW

Ridin' the Ditch: Vero Beach to Daytona

Silly Rabbit.  You may well ask?  This (boat) name seemed appropriate given we’d arrived at Halifax Harbor Marina on Easter Monday.  Also, in our attempt to get to Daytona the day before, we hit mud at New Smyrna Beach – not once, but twice…  Just a couple of dumb bunnies.  But not let’s get ahead of ourselves.

View over Vero Beach Marina (from a bus window)

Vero Beach was a lovely spot.  Warm, friendly and very well protected.  Ever so briefly, we finally caught sight of the elusive manatee.  Ever so reluctantly then, we let the mooring line slip off and motored north in less than promising weather.  Near Melbourne, GS threatened to take photos of the Cap’n against gray, threating skies. (A Melbourne weather joke of course!)  This stretch of the ICW follows the Indian River, as wide as a lake, with much of it shallow except for the charted channel that guided us; red to the left and green to the right.  Don’t step outside the lines or the mud will find you.  At this point too, it becomes more remote, rural even, although it’s often hard to tell what level of settlement hides behind miles and miles of swampy marshes.

There's always an audience at the fixed bridges too!

We anchored for the night with fellow travellers at a popular spot near the town of Coco.  The barrier island opposite is home of Cape Canaveral, NASA and to a myriad of spectacular, history making space launches.  Sadly, we’d missed one by only a few days.  We bypassed Titusville** cautiously crossing the Indian River into the unhappily named Mosquito Lagoon.  The Haulover Canal gave us plenty of opportunity to manatee-spot.  Floating mounds of globular jelly, with the occasional splash of a black, paddle-shaped tail, was the best we were going to get from these shy, sensitive creatures.  Beyond the Lagoon, the river became hemmed in by marshy islands and cedar swamps.  The fishing must be good as this area seemed a very popular spot for caravan parks (to use an Australian term), boat ramps and wildlife, including alligators. 

No hurricane damage here...

At last, our planned New Smyrna Beach anchorage came into sight, full of abandoned hurricane damaged hulks.  As it was early, the day overcast and uninviting anyway, we made a snap decision to carry on the 14 miles to Daytona.  Forgetting of course, that it was low tide.  Red 34 saw to our undoing.  Somehow in 4’ of water, and with lots of bow thrusting, an intense Cap’n moved WJ3 back into deeper water – well, enough to float us!   As we moved off, another couple of sailboats charged by.  The Cap’n warned them, but somehow, they both made it through.  “Let’s follow them!” proved a ruinous decision – we ended back on that shoal.  Luckily, having provided much entertainment for the drinkers at the Yacht Club/Marina, we pulled off and slunk back to the anchorage.

Endless miles of marshes & midges (no-see-ums)

As if life wasn’t challenging enough, our electrical problems became serious.  We just managed to get the anchor down.  Sensing trouble, the Cap’n left our motor running all night.  It’s just as well.  Our morning’s exercise was hauling chain and a heavy anchor.  Once snuggled in our Daytona marina berth, there wasn’t enough electricity in the batteries to turn off WJ3’s engine.  Silly rabbits, indeed!

**Titusville scorched itself into our memories in 2009.  Who could forget a lightning strike, resulting in replacement of quite a few bits of electrical kit plus some mast head fittings?