Low Country

Georgia and South Carolina are home to vast areas of seemingly impenetrable marsh and swamps.  A visit to the remote Okefenokee Swamp is on our wish list, however, not this year.  That didn’t stop us watching carefully as we wove our way through mile after winding mile of connecting rivers and canals for wildlife.  This is the real low country, full of isolated homes, shrimp boats and crab pots.  All very quiet at this time of year.

Ben Sawyer Bridge. One of many we encountered. 
This swing bridge operates north of Charleston

Hell Gate was up to it’s usual tricks though and our timing was off – it would take months to travel this stretch if we were to wait for a convenient high tide, so on with the show.  And we skimmed over it with just a foot of water beneath the keel in one stretch of this narrow, shoaled cut.  We made it, just, but wouldn't want to try it again on such a low tide...

We eventually made Charleston on a beautiful warm sunny day.  That is, until we popped out of the Wappoo Creek cut, then crossed the Ashley River into this vast, windy and very busy harbour.  The dockhand helping us refuel, dressed in t-shirt and shorts, thought we were totally mad!  Dressed for the Arctic AND worse, travelling north… 

North of Charleston lies a very scenic section of the ICW (and it's deep, easy to navigate!)– the wonderful cypress swamps that line the Waccamaw River.  The river is rich, tobacco brown, lined with loads of stumps, swamp and marshlands.  This area was once wealthy and vigorous due to the production of rice and indigo.  We pulled into the Bucksport Marina, a favourite and quiet spot along the Waccamaw to refuel, deciding immediately that we needed an extra day to rest.    

Cypress swamp along the Waccamaw a bit dismal
in winter, and an ICW mile marker now a prize nest

Hard to spot, but those logs in the Waccamaw
are just covered in tortoises enjoying the afternoon sun

We’re travelling every day now with no plans to make any more longish stops from here, so there’s very little to report that’s especially interesting.  Even the wildlife is in hiding, (no alligators to report!) all remaining in Florida until Spring is well and truly in the air.  

How is this for a painterly sunset? 
South Edisto River, west of Watts Cut, South Carolina

Cosmic Karma*

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

Georgetown to Belhaven

( Yes really, this floating vision was complete with pink flamingo (plastic of course) tied to the pulpit and induced a "trip" back to the psychedelic 60’s & a need to hum something Jimi Hendrix.)

Off on a shopping trip in Georgetown 

Georgetown, once famed rice growing capital of the south, was also a seaport, vital to plantation resupply and to carry their produce to markets, both locally and overseas.  Here, tucked up inside its tiny harbour, we withstood a nasty off-shore weather system (a day of solid rain & continuing wild winds) before taking time to bike to a grocery store and explore the town.  We made a dash to the Gullah Museum and were given a thorough insight into the history of African-Americans in the area by a well-read and knowledgeable docent.  He began by showing us a quilt his wife had made in honour of Michelle Obama’s ancestors who came from this area.  Well, quilts and history - all the makings for another movie (as in “How to Make an American Quilt“ fame) and GS was kindly allowed to take photos of them.  The Gullah specialise in finely woven sweet-grass baskets with some pretty examples on show at the museum. Regrettably, it was time to move on…

Michelle Obama Quilt

We made for Bucksport, a favourite stop set on the upper reaches of the Waccamaw River in the midst of old rice plantations and cedar swamps.  It’s beautifully scenic, feels so remote, everyone’s friendly and we were given to understand that the fishing’s excellent in these black, brackish and fresh waters.  Nearby, tortoises sunned themselves on old cedar stumps, and we, like them, watched the world go by from our vantage point.  It was hard not to break out with a roaring (if not out-of-tune) rendition of “Summertime” (from Gershwin’s 1935 Opera “Porgy and Bess”). 

Tortoises enjoying the morning sun along the river

Spirit of Jefferson (a floating casino?) comin' round the bend off Bucksport

Early morning reflections on the Waccamaw River at Bucksport 

We now had the North Carolina border in our sights so didn’t dally.  The day was going to be long and trying.  The ICW runs along Myrtle Beach in a section known as The Rockpile.  Lined with shale, sharp, shallow and narrow, it’s not the place to meet a tow (a tug & barge(s) combo) or a large hot water boat with an even larger wake.  Once across the border (yahooo!!), it was time to negotiate several shoaled inlets, also noted infamous spots along the ICW.  Luckily, we managed to find ourselves zig-zagging across them on a rising tide.  So, it was with some relief we found the open but calm Cape Fear River anchorage and could finally set the hook.  We did wonder how "fear" came into its naming...

Here's a new angle on your boat house...

And the house with the Mermaid is for sale 

Noisy birds on a nearby spoil island provided us with a “wake-up” dawn chorus, so we took Snow’s cut at speeds we never thought Windjammer capable of achieving.  Deep water anchorages along this section, close behind North Carolina’s barrier islands are few and far between.  Meaning more long days and even longer distances, so it was fortunate indeed to find space in (and be allowed to use) Mile Hammock, a military boat ramp and basin tacked on the end of Camp LeJeune.  Old APC's line the live fire range, fortunately no sailboats.       

Finally, we reached Morehead City, from our viewpoint a jumble of industrial and port facilities, and a river alive with recreational fishing boats – enough to make you feel very sorry for the fish.  It was the weekend and Morehead City is renown for its fishing tournaments of all varieties.  We’d planned a stop at nearby Beaufort (this one said “bow fert”) but didn’t like our chances of anchoring, so headed up Newport River, through Adams Creek and out into the wide Neuse River.  It was such a pleasure to see plenty of sailboats enjoying a romp in early afternoon breezes. 

Cedar swamps aplenty 

And interesting collection of craft along the river too

Late in the afternoon, winds increased on Pamlico Sound almost instantly clearing the fleet but we persevered, turning at Bay River into a crab-pot infested Long Creek for another well protected, marsh anchorage.  Cap’n Tenacious had set a record – a 90nm, 13 hour day.  Still, we weren't too far off the ICW, and well placed to reach Belhaven the next day for a well-earned afternoon rest in their sheltered harbour. 

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...

Man O Pause

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

Brunswick to Beaufort

(Man-0-Pause really made us laugh. This could be a winner in our boat naming competition?)

Hot cars, hot BBQ from a trailer and a vast, old timber 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...Remember the famous song?
Well, how about Audrey Hepburn in the 1961 film Breakfast at Tiffany's?

“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