Lil’E & Miss Ashley

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

Beaufort to Georgetown

(Just a couple of hardworking tugs & said slowly in your best Southern drawl)

Shrimp Boats tied to the dock near Thunderbolt

We tried for a mooring at Beaufort (said “bew fert”) but took a space dockside – a more secure solution as it turned out, when later in the day we watched boats bounce in strong winds opposing a strong river current.  From our vantage point (when a huge tide was in!) we overlooked a pleasant park that doubled as a tourist hub, providing us with close proximity to many activities, including a town bus, buggy rides, restaurants and pretty main street.

Beaufort Arsenal and History Museum within

Beaufort Arsenal details

Hunting was obviously a pastime too

We started with an enjoyable brunch then made a B line for the friendly Tourist Information Centre housed in the historic Beaufort Arsenal.  On recommendation, we visited the Arsenal Museum.  Gary, no less than a walking encyclopedia on Beaufort’s history, gave us a guided tour of this interesting collection.  This area was settled by the Spanish in 1514, followed by the French English and Union forces.  

The area was made wealthy by firstly being a protected deep-water seaport, then from many plantations growing rice, indigo and sea-island cotton.  On the strength of this wealth, plantation owners were able to build large, attractive homes in Beaufort.  This ensured a pleasant lifestyle mingling with peers, cooling river breezes in stifling summer heat and opportunity to leave the plantation work to others.  Angus, the handsome Clydesdale, took us for a slow and very pleasant buggy ride around these beautifully maintained homes, most still privately owned. 

We took a tour of this historic Beaufort landmark:
The John Mark Verdier House

What a handsome lad is young Angus

After all the excitement of Beaufort, we made it as far as Church Creek, another “wild” marsh anchorage where we spent the night relaxing in the middle of nowhere doing nothing.  Because we could.  Perhaps our most entertaining viewing of the day was along quiet reaches of the Stono River.  A dolphin had “partnered” local crabbers; a cunning plan to ensure first dibs on pot spoils tossed overboard (undersized, female crabs, etc) as they hauled each pot.  You could swear it was a circus trick but no doubt rather trying for the crabbers.

Charleston was next on our radar, but having visited some years ago, we decided not to stop.  It’s just as well, the anchorage is now a mooring field and strong winds whistled up river.  We picked our way across the river, dodging huge tows, fishing fanatics and a flotilla of parasailers.  We swept by those wonderful heritage homes lining the river.  More recently, Charleston was home to Pat Conroy, a novelist noted for capturing the spirit of the South (The Prince of Tides). 

Palatial Charleston Townhouses

Parasailing in rough conditions across Charleston Harbor 

After crossing Charleston’s busy port (Is that an aircraft carrier coming down river?), it was time to face up for another long, shallow stretch.  At least we had a rising tide.  The winds were still up, blowing in from the Atlantic, so we threaded our way to Long Creek, off Deewees Creek.  (Don’t you just love these local names!)  This is another picturesque “wild” but quite well protected anchorage in the marshes.  The irony was that many of these creeks offered deeper water than many sections of the ICW.  We began to feel like locals, recognising many of our fellow travellers along the now busy ICW highway – it’s transit season in full swing. 

A very, very long tow

Finally, an end in sight to this tow...

Next stop was thankfully off the deep, black waters of Winyah River.  Cedar swamps and disused rice plantations line the river making it seem so remote and pristine despite the unusual colour from tannins.  We headed into Georgetown and set about making a spectacle of ourselves as we set anchor, then reset the anchor with a stern anchor, then reset the stern anchor again.  All in black oily mud dredged up by our chain.  And in front of a merry local crowd at a harbourside bar/restaurant.  Our efforts paid off though when we noticed a local boat (and its mooring) washed ashore after the stormy night. 

Oh dear! So glad we set that stern anchor last night...