CLEAR AS A BELL  (Isle of Hope)

We were up before sunrise.  Lights were sparkling across the water so we figured it was clear and we could leave.  Figures, just when you decide to make a short trip to the crab shack because of fog, then there IS NO FOG.  Nothing goes as figured.

We pushed off the dock before the river had a chance to start running.  It was smooth sailing for awhile until we got a hint that maybe it wasn’t going to be so nice ahead and that was the road off in the distance ahead with a string of cars all with their headlights on. 

IT’S BACK

Yep, it was a hint that the fog was back and it came suddenly with a vengeance.  We were too far down the river now to turn back and it wouldn’t matter anyway because the fog was behind us too.  It’s amazing how it can creep up on you so suddenly.  I’m not sure what direction it came from because we suddenly were just in it.

WORKIN’ THOSE BRAIN CELLS

We were a bit rusty but got the radar going quickly and though the radar screen was upside down from the chart diagram we mentally got the hang of looking at one upside down and the other right side up and relating the two, identifying markers and the edges of the river.  What was throwing us off though were the birds, those darn cormorants.  They became moving targets on the screen that one minute looked like a marker and then the next moment flittered across the screen, then just took off.    Did you know that the radar would identify birds!  We quickly figured them out too.

I studied the paper charts looking ahead to see what to expect.  Can you believe there is a “Runaway Negro Creek” just off to the right of us?  I guess we are in the south after all.  You’d never see a creek named that up where we live. 

A BIT TERRIFIED

We’re a bit terrified as we slowly make our way down Skidaway River.  We pass a sailboat that eerily appears like a ghost out of the thick whiteness with full sails up.  Is he nuts?  There’s no wind in this fog.  To be honest we were scared not being able to see a blasted thing and knowing we have the most difficult part of the ICW for this area to cross coming up just ahead and appropriately called “Hell’s Gate”.  When I see names like that in our travels I give it some respect.  It’s a narrow shallow area, a thin link between two bodies of water that can create a rapid during tidal changes.  It shoals in quite often depending on the moods of the weather.  You must cross it during high tide so timing is essential.  The local folk are constantly moving the markers as the conditions changes to help people like us get through without any mishaps.  I wonder if they ever thought cruisers like us would be stupid enough to come through in a pea soup fog day like this.

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT THINGS WERE GOING TO GET BORING…

I guess that’s why boating is so darn fascinating.  Just when you think maybe you might try some other hobby or wonder if what you are doing is getting a bit boring, too much trouble, then something like this comes up to remind you how unpredictable it is, why it keeps our attention and is such a constant challenge.  Guess there will be no need for exercising our brains with those computer card games later as our cells are getting a work out today.

GREYED IMAGES

The channel markers that we are lucky enough to actually see show up suddenly out of the whiteness as strange looking blurry shadows.  Their shapes are misleading as they look misshapen by the huge osprey nests that are so cleverly piled on the tops.  Sometimes the branches hang over so much that you can’t see the numbers or the bird poop has dripped a white stream covering them over. 

NO WAKE TODAY

Speaking of markers, did I forget to mention the several “no wake zone” signs in this area?  Not that we have to worry about a wake today as we are creeping along at not much more than idle speed in this pea soup. That’s certainly not a consideration today.  Anyway, they are clearly marked and look very official unlike other “No Wake” signs in other areas of the ICW and we learned quickly that you need to give them total respect because a boater that came in to the dock last night told Larry he got a “ticket” for going too fast through one of them.  He had a fancy blue hulled 47 foot Eastbay.  I must say though it’s nice to see their big green “Thank You!” signs at the end of the zone.  That’s a first.

HELL’S GATE!

Well, the moment we dreaded is getting near and the fog is getting worse.  We can’t see anything.  Hells Gate is just a mile ahead.  I ask Larry about a fog horn.  “Do we even have a fog horn on this boat?”  He said it works through the radio so “Get the manual out and see if you can turn it on!”  Boy do I hate that.  I don’t like trying to learn and read directions during a crisis.  I never can think in a crisis.  I did my best and got it going but the horn blew so far and few between that we could’ve been hit by a boat in between them.  Ziggy didn’t like the sound at all and kept reaching out his paw pressing it on my foot and looking up at me with this worried look.  Poor guy, he never knows what it going on with us.

I mention to Larry that we should announce over the radio our intent to go through Hell’s Gate in case someone is coming through in the opposite direction.  The shoot through there looked awful narrow and I’d hate to get in that scenario in this fog.  Larry made the call on the radio and we heard nothing come back.

I think to myself, “OK, this is the big moment we’ve been dreading.  Are we going to make it through with no mishaps?  If not, what’s the worst that could happen?  Well, we get stuck and call US Tow.  Is there a US Tow in this area?  I don’t think we’re going to ship wreck and sink so what’s the big deal? Just stay calm and get through it.  If we only had some local knowledge about this thing.”

Just when we finally got close and could make out the red marker, the entrance to the start of the narrow channel of Hell’s Gate it was like a miracle and the fog lifted like Moses and the parting of the seas.  We could suddenly see all the markers clean through this thing and in we went.  And to top it off suddenly out of nowhere two dolphins appeared and accompanied us through it!  I know it sounds fishy and incredible but that’s what happened.  It was the strangest thing.   Thank God that ordeal is over with!  All that worry and stress was a big waste of energy as it was very clear cut once you could see it.  The markers were there and the depths were good.  The lowest we saw was 6.8 feet below us!  That was no big deal at all (but I guess credit needs to go to Larry for timing the tide just right giving us that depth).   But again, why all the hype in the books and articles?  I just don’t get it.  (I think to myself, I must remember not to read those articles that get you all hyped up about these things.)

WHEW, WE’RE THROUGH THAT!

We had one more area to worry about but it was nothing, even in the fog.  The only sad thing about today with the fog is that we wanted to see the scenery.  That was why we came down this difficult section of the ICW rather than going on the outside in the ocean like we did before. With this fog we’re seeing nothing.  I guess for that reason we decided to continue with our plan and head to the crab shack for an overnight though it is about 5 miles off the ICW, out of the way.  What the heck.  What’s the big hurry now?  Let’s go see some Georgia back country.

HEADING TO THE CRAB SHACK

We’ll detour anywhere to get a good meal, so we come to the junction of St. Catharine’s Inlet and head up river making our way from marker to marker and weaving around all the crab pots.  By the time we got up river the fog had cleared, the weather warmed the first time in weeks and a nice breeze was brewing.  It was a beautiful trip encompassing scenery that you can never see by car or by even most boats. 

We hailed the crab shack on the radio and given directions to their dock and once there we were met by the owner to help us with the lines.  Again, they had beautiful new docks and it was an easy docking.  We arrived at lunch time but they are closed for lunch in the off season but he said he would be glad to rustle up something for us.  We didn’t want him to bother and said we had plenty on board but would look forward to a good dinner tonight in his restaurant.  We settled in and were the only cruising boat here. 

There are no stores here so again it’s another quiet and peaceful stop except for the occasional distant boom we hear of some firing range and the sound of several military helicopters going by every once in awhile.  Boy this east coast is sure full of military bases all along this ICW. 

We took a little walk down a 17^th century historic road to Medway with a little stop at an equally old cemetery of the old town of Sunbury.  The old oak trees draping over the old sandy road were beautiful but we cut the walk short the skies began to rumble and darken for a possible rain storm.  Fog, rain, what next?   As we walked back to the boat we waved “hello” to the local fireman who was exercising his golden retriever out front of his house where the local fire trucks were parked on his lawn.  He yelled out asking what kind of boat we had and then asking if we needed a lift to the market.   Now that’s some friendly folks that live here.

SUNBURY CRAB COMPANY

Well, we were lickin’ our chops all afternoon waiting for the restaurant to open at 5:00 and yum it was worth the wait.  It’s a casual place made of old pieces of wood, looking like whatever you could find and had no windows as they were all open to the marsh and the roof was open beam covered in corrugated tin.  The place was much like a big covered porch except all the open windows in the off season were now covered with plastic to protect diners from the cool weather and tonight the impending rain that is predicted.  We and other diners laughed as the beginning of the front was starting to blow in and the plastic was billowing in exposing a few lose ends which the owner quickly came by and secured with his staple gun.  It was that kind of place homey, friendly and casual.  The owner’s son who Larry had talked to earlier while he was picking some fresh crab brought by a freshly made crab cake for us to try that was delicious.  We had about the freshest fish you could eat that night and the seasoning on it was delicious.  The place was packed and parking lot full.  People at some of the tables were loudly hammering away at blue crabs brought to their table in a big galvanized bucket.  This was a good stop. 

Next stop about 65 miles down the ICW to Jekyll Island.

OOPS, WE GOT LAZY AND STAYED AN EXTRA DAY
January 30th, Sunbury Crab Co.

It was dark as oil out.  It was also another freezing cold morning and now you could add to it, rain.  The inside of the windows were covered with what looked like sweat as the mixture of our heaters going constantly along with the freezing outside temps it made for the perfect combination to make the boat a strange wet place.  Everything was damp, wet and icky.  You’d wipe the windows off with the shammy giving the glass a nice clean palette to rebuild its mirage of sweat all over again.  We eventually turned the fans on hoping they would dry the place out.  You know the fans that are supposed to cool you off when it’s hot and muggy out.  But the fans were making me cold and irritable with the constant blowing. 

The sun was grouchy too this morning.  It wasn’t the least bit anxious to get up and show itself either.  The thick blackness that we saw outside seemed strangely stuck and a time warp, suspended.  It must feel like I do just wanting to hunker in under the covers for the rest of the day. 

We’re up early though and I’m only on my first cup of coffee, barely awake, trying to get my head clear and ready for the long demanding day ahead.  I’m checking my favorite blogs for the latest news.  Ziggy is cold too.  He’s curled up at my feet in this really tight amazing ball shape and has snuggled down as deep as he can in his little bed that is placed in front of our life saving trusty space heater.  Larry is rustling around the cabin.  He’s not only wiping the sweat off the windows but annoyingly because it’s too early is punching electronic buttons, making unappreciated noise.  He’s antsy as usual, as he always is when we are heading out, but today he’s a little more so as it’s again going to be a demanding day down the ICW.  It’s a long leg today, about 65 miles of none stop cruising requiring us to constantly pay attention to markers and shallows and trying to mind read the shoals and their ever moving unpredictable locations. 

“There are lots of shallow areas and we have to get going early to make the distance with the tide!”  I’ve heard it over and over again for the last few days. 

Larry asked if I wanted to take Ziggy out. 

“What?  It’s not even daylight out, it’s freezing and to top it off it’s raining!  That would be one big NO!  I’m not even awake yet and I know clearly that I’m not interested in doing that!”  I know I was being a big grouch but for Pete’s Sake at least let it be daylight to do that!

I guess Larry knew he was walking on thin ice on that subject this morning so he figured out right away that if he wanted that job done and done in time to make his schedule he’d better do it himself.  So Larry called Ziggy to uncurl himself from his warm place and face the fact that he too is going to have to do his morning function in these crappy conditions.  Ziggy slowly and very resentfully walked out the door but not without turning his head back to give me the dirtiest look of looks.  So there they went, out into the complete freezing darkness for a ¼ mile walk down the long dock to the shore line.  I didn’t even look up to say “good luck, good bye or even hurry back”.  There’s no way I’m doing that in these conditions.

I made a good decision though because about 5 minutes later, they still weren’t back and Mother Nature decided to display a total downpour.  It lasted for a solid 20 minutes just long enough until they both came back to the boat then it let up.  I got up from my seat, opened the door a crack so as not to let the cold in and threw them both a clean terry cloth towel to wipe themselves off with and quickly shut the door, coming back to my favorite spot in front of my computer and took another sip of hot coffee. 

They both resembled what I’d describe as pitiful drowned rats when they came in.  Ziggy insisted on a reward for his accomplishment and for enduring that ordeal which I obliged quickly by giving him his favorite, a hard thin jerky-like stick like thing called a chicken strip but had nothing to throw poor Larry. 

“You know,” he said, “we don’t have to leave today.  We could just stay here one more day and leave tomorrow when the weather is better and clearer.”  Were those words actually coming from Larry’s mouth I wondered or was I imagining things? 

“I”ll vote for that!” I said.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes, there’s no hurry.”

I guess that drenching walk brought him back to his senses.  Good thing for me as I wasn’t looking forward to also getting sopping wet and cold as I knew soon I’d have to go outside and get the lines and fenders off when we leave.  It’s always the same when docking.  The job must be done no matter whether it’s raining or not.  Now, I don’t have to get wet and cold.  Hip hip hooray! 

It will be a bit boring though sitting here at the dock for a day as there’s not much to do here and the weather report is rain, rain and more rain, but it’s better than fighting the storm with poor visibility on this next difficult long day ahead of us. 

So as predicted, it rained and rained and we just holed up in the boat until late afternoon when the sun finally peeked through a small opening in the fluffy bedding of rain clouds that was covering the sky today.  We immediately took advantage by taking Zig out for a long walk and learned a bit more about this area. 

SUNBURY A WHISPER OF THE PAST

Apparently Sunbury was a pretty major city back in the 1700’s.  We read that it was completely demolished by the British during the Revolutionary War.  It’s hard to imagine that the British would be so destructive and destroy a complete city and if this had not happened Sunbury might have still been a major Southern East Coast seaport rather than its neighbor Savannah.  The Revolutionary war changed its course of history and instead we enjoy a beautiful serene quiet setting.  Now Sunbury is a sleepy place with barely a remnant left of the pre revolutionary war city that it was.  All that’s left is a 17^th century sandy road that still leads to Medway and a few grave markers that have amazingly survived these many long years and are now lovingly restored in a small plot off that time warn road.    

We had another nice dinner at the Crab Shack that evening and on friendly terms with the owners a family run place. 

We gladly hit the sack early that night anticipating the long day tomorrow.

HEADING OUT

It was a repeat of yesterday morning but this time I took Ziggy down what seemed like the long ¼ mile dock to a patch of grass and dirt for Ziggy.  There’s no downpour this morning but its darn cold out.  What’s with these cold fronts?  I can confirm that we actually saw on the weather map the big curved line with half circles displaying the outer edge of the front moving out past Georgia and now moving off and beyond the Gulf Stream.  The cold front should be far enough away now so when the heck is it going to warm up? 

We keep getting weather reports of false promises of warmer temps but something is wrong because we keep wearing the same clothes that we bought in an emergency at a Target store in Savannah to get us by.  Day after day, I get out and put on that same grey pull over and that same pair of grey sweat pants.  I can’t wait to throw them away as a symbol of the arrival of warm weather that we hope is in the future. 

SOMETHING IN COMMON WITH THE SHARKS

Yes, I do feel guilty complaining as we know most of the US is suffering much worse weather, enduring terrible ice storms and days with no power.  I guess I just can’t help complain as this cold weather has been so unexpected.   We’ve even heard unprecedented numbers of sharks have been spotted by aircraft, hundreds of them heading south hugging close to the shoreline looking for warmer water and more food.  Maybe this explains the unexpected numbers of dolphin we’ve seen swimming in the shallow mucky waters of the ICW also looking for extra food to get them by.  I guess I can identify with those sharks as we’re doing the same thing, hoping for warmer temperatures.    

It’s just barely light, and we’ve got the engine warming up and our running lights on.  We know the route heading back down the river to the ICW now having come up it day before yesterday.  We could’ve left earlier in the dark I guess but delayed wanting a bit of light so we could see identify where the crab pots were but surprisingly this morning it seems like the local crabbers must have pulled up most of their traps the night before.  We only saw a few.

TOILET BOWL FLOATS?

It’s funny how markers for crab and lobster traps vary in style from place to place.  In Maine they were mostly Styrofoam cylinders (used to be wood) with cone head tops and sticks poking out the top.  They were brightly painted with different colors and stripes to identify ownership.  Here in Georgia they use these strange balls that look like toilet bowl floats.  It’s the funniest thing.

No one was out on the water except for us and the skies were dark with thick ominous looking clouds.  It felt like a storm brewing though we knew it had passed through already.  We could see a light here and there shinning bright in the distance across miles of marsh.  It was a flickering indication of someone else that was also up early sitting in their kitchen having some coffee and reading the newspaper getting ready to start the day.  It was serenely quiet as the nearby military base was not practicing gun fire yet.  I’ll be glad to get Ziggy to another place where he doesn’t have to be afraid of the sounds. 

It feels lonely out here.  Our only company is a few storm petrels flying ahead hoping the bow of our boat will stir up an easy catch for breakfast. 

MIDDENS?

We have notices several areas along the marsh shoreline where there are piles of shells, shells left over from abundant harvests from years long past.  We’re amazed at the number of middens we see.  It’s almost incomprehensible that that many oysters, scallops or clams were taken from the sea.   Were they middens left by the Guale Indians that first occupied this area we wondered, and then added to by the fishermen of the large bustling 18^th century village the thrived up this deep wide waterway or perhaps were they from more recent over harvesting that our century is guilty of?  It’s a mystery.  

The darkness and over cast weather made it hard to pick out the markers in the distance.  I strained through the binoculars finding nothing at first until you forcer your eyes to relax and then they appear vaguely distinguishable from the dark tree lined backdrop of the marshes.

ST. CATHERINE’S SOUND

We meet up with the ICW again at the wide opening of St. Catherine’s Sound.  There across the way is a rusty old shrimp boat, huddled up next to the marshes in a protected area.  I think I saw him go out early yesterday evening.  Maybe he is anchored there in the protection of the wind resting after a hard night’s work.  The seas were retching up, left over’s from the rough conditions yesterday.  I think it was a good thing we took the day off and delayed our departed as the locals said it got pretty rough down here.

CURRENTS

We head south into Newport River and back into the ICW.   We get a sudden unexpected push from the ocean current that is whipping around the outer banks and into the river.    We sight our first ICW marker for this day’s journey, a green square marker nailed high on a post sticking out of the water with its lone sentinel, the commonly seen black cormorant nonchalantly watching us go by.

JOHNSTON CREEK

No time for casual cruising now and no more daydreaming as we head into Johnston Creek and our first taste of shallow bottoms for the day.  It gets down to 4’-6” outside of marker R126.  We’re at high tide, extra high tide, so that gets our adrenalin flowing. 

The windows are sweating and I’m constantly wiping them with the shammy so we can see.  We resort to turning on the fans to try to dry them out but the blowing air this cold morning makes us very cold.  The temps are below freezing or thereabouts so we’re pretty cold.   We’d like to put on another pot of coffee but know that it will get the windows even wetter.   We decide we need the coffee and will deal with the windows.   I press the red button on the coffee maker and she begins to brew.  The aroma of the coffee brewing smells great.

We’re back into the rhythm of the ICW markers and shoals and running along smoothly.  The current suddenly reverses again in the opposite direction as we get about midway down the length of Johnston Creek.   It’s the current coming in now from the next ocean’s inlet meeting with the current from St. Catharine’s Sound.   The scenery is beautiful and totally remote as there are no roads that can come even close to the water’s edge for miles of this leg of the ICW.  It is untouched landscape except for the bountiful number of middens and of course the red and green markers, the only trace of humans having been here.

DOLPHINS IN THE ICW

We’ve seen an amazing number of dolphins huge and powerful looking that swim directly for the bow of the boat and then disappear beneath.  We’ve also seen hundreds of pelicans or cormorants, more than we’ve seen and more than you’d ever believe. 

We’re now heading into Sapelo Sound, a wide open area of water that drains and fills, to and from the ocean, depending on the tide.    Along this stretch is the first time we see a few other boaters, but not cruisers like us, but little skiffs, sports fishermen and some little skiff type crab boats.   The sound is pretty choppy and I imagine it too would have been very rough yesterday.  Again another good reason we delayed our journey for a day and come today. 

DATA LOSSED, NO DEPTH SOUNDER

Suddenly an alarm goes off and a box comes on the chart screen saying “DATA LOSSED”.  We now have no depth reading.  Oh great, that’s the thing we need the most today.  Neither of us says a word to each other both knowing this is not good and not feeling the need to talk about it.  We just need to get it fixed as soon as possible.  I take the wheel so Larry can see what the problem is and hopefully fix it. He starts turning things off and tries to reboot the system.  He spends a few hairy minutes punching those noisy little buttons again. 

I never worry too much as Larry always seems to get whatever it is fixed.  After a few minutes he had it back running again and just in time before we started heading into a place called DOG HAMMOCK SPLIT.  Wouldn’t you like to know how they ever came up with these names?  

Each wide inlet from the ocean that we pass kind of gives you a brief break from constant concentration required to watch the markers and shallow areas.  It seemed extra short this time with the depth sounder problem.  Too short before we were back in the narrows again.

GIVE US A SIGN

We begin our entrance into Front River.  The red marker 150 A is missing and only a post with another goofy cormorant on it.  Cormorants are comical in a way as sometimes you will see them with wings outstretched standing to the wind on a post like they are airing their arm pits.  Today I wondered why this lazy one couldn’t have put at least one wing out pointing the correct direction? 

OLD TEAKETTLE OR HELL’S GATE?

This is one of the legs of the ICW that Larry was concerned about.  He had read of others going aground here even at high tide.  He was very concerned about the depth and the word that there was a missing marker, a crucial one.  He had put a hand scrawled note on the paper chart for me to be alerted.  “Missing marker 160!!” it said.

STUCK IN THE MUCK

It was located in an area that required a quick turn and yep, Red marker 160 was missing and yep, we ran aground, stuck on the bottom, just momentarily!

Larry calmly let her sit a brief second and then gently turned the wheel and gave her a bit of gas.  We easily moved off the mud but had to continue on for quite a stretch with barely anything under us. 

LIKE A BLIND MAN

We crawled along slowly but steadily along this long open shallow stretch much like a blind man, hands out stretched in the dark looking for the way with nothing there to grab on to or lead the way.    We made it to the next marker without going aground again and just continued on.  The straightaway for those of you reading this was running about 4 feet if you hug the right side otherwise it was much less.   We had 13 feet under us on the stretch lining up the range markers.    This was way worse than the Hell’s Gate that we went through the other day and this place is merely named Old Teakettle.  We can’t figure that one out.  We ran this area at high tide and still had a problem. 

Off in the distance peaking up over the marshes were a fleet of old shrimp boats that looked like they were rafted together.  That’s the only glimpse of any other boaters we’ve seen for a long time. 

It was 65 miles of this type of cruising, lots of range markers testing your endurance against the currents, shallow waters in spots and a few missing markers but really not that bad.  

LITTLE MUD RIVER

Our last big challenge was Little Mud River and I can clearly understand the name now as it was shallow and I’m sure many have felt the mud but it’s definitely doable.  The entrance into it lining up the range markers from the choppy Doboy Sound today was a little hairy as they left it up to you when you were supposed to make the turn but it was deep so no problem.  That whole area in Mud River was filled with lots of range markers so was quite challenging and really not my favorite.

THE WORST IS BEHIND US

We knew we were over the worst of the Georgia ICW today as we spotted the big pork barrel bridge in the distance that connects Brunswig to some of the outer islands. 

We were ahead of scheduled as we crossed the last sound for the day, St. Simon’s Sound.  We could see the red and white candy striped lighthouse of St. Simon to our left and the bridge up ahead leading to from the mainland to little Jekyll Island our destination for today.  

Our last leg to Jekyll was another stretch of shallow water and a narrow channel.  We passed over some very shallow water at red marker 19 but took it slow and careful and had no groundings.  Once under the bridge to Jekyll Island we were home free and had the worst of the whole ICW behind us.  

Everything south now should be a piece of cake.

JEKYLL ISLAND

We made good time and arrived just in time to head up to the marina restaurant for some lunch and then back to the boat to hose the salt spray off and take a nap after 5 ½ hours of constant concentration and strain. 

Guess we exercised those brain cells again today.