We left Hilton Head Island, SC, on a sunny and windless Sunday morning, but under the threat of rain and thunderstorms. We motored away from Skull Creek Marina, with the fuel and water tanks topped up, bound for Georgetown, SC. There, we would stop to top up the fuel tank once again, and then head back out offshore towards Beaufort, NC and if weather permitted, we would sail around Cape Hatteras and on to the Chesapeake Bay.
We spent just over a week at Skull Creek Marina, Hilton head Island, SC
That was the plan. In what has become an all too familiar tune, it was not to be.
We powered east, then southeast out of Port Royal Sound and into the Atlantic Ocean. The forecast predicted very light southerly winds which is exactly what we had. In fact, with the motor pushing us at five or six knots, we were moving faster than the true wind speed was. The sea was quite rolly, with swells coming on our stern and quarters – the back corners of the boat – and from time to time, we rolled quite heavily. A slight course change more to the northeast settled the motion somewhat, but the rolling was to stay with us for the remainder of the day and into the night. We counted no less than 11 cargo ships to our east, all bound for Savannah, GA, with most anchored awaiting their turn to enter the port.
As the afternoon progressed, we tuned into the Atlanta Braves baseball game, listening via the Sirius XM app on Lisa’s phone, but soon lost cellular signal. By late-afternoon, we were hearing distant rumbles of thunder to our south and west. A high thin haze of high, wispy, clouds now obscured most of the sky. Fortunately, the storms stayed over land and didn’t bother us. We set our stereo to the Sirius XM station ‘Watercolors,’ which plays light jazz, and watched as the day slowly morphed into night. A pod of dolphins joined us briefly as we glided along under the steady drone of the diesel engine. The navigation and compass lights were switched on, the electronic instrument displays dimmed. We settled in for the evening, having tuna salad and crackers for a light supper. Soon stars were shining above as the skies gradually cleared.
The miles clicked by. We saw only a few small fishing boats heading back in from offshore, and didn’t expect to see much other traffic until we were approaching the entrance for Charleston Harbor. That wouldn’t happen until around 2 AM. Lisa took the first watch and I settled down on the opposite cockpit seat to nap. Even at sea, it can still be quite warm after sunset. The cabin was warm, not just from the August day, but from the diesel motor. It was just too hot to try and sleep below.
I was dozing comfortably when the battery warning light on the engine panel flashed, catching Lisa’s attention. She immediately checked the battery voltage and saw it was elevated past 15 volts. “Not again!” I groaned. Readers will remember the problems we had when we left Marathon, FL earlier this year; a problem which led to the premature destruction of our batteries. We thought that problem was behind us, yet here it was again, rearing its ugly red eyes in the darkness. It was 11:30 PM.
Lisa and I discussed what to do. She was tired, and ready for some sleep, so I took over. We agreed to watch it closely, and if necessary to divert into Charleston. Neither of us are fans of entering harbors at night, particularly those we’ve never been to before, (such as Charleston), but the channel there is wide and deep, accommodating large cargo ships and military vessels. On the other hand, we didn’t want to destroy several thousand dollars’ worth of new batteries. The decision was made that if the voltage persisted at excessively high levels, we would go into Charleston. We were still a few miles from the channel entrance and would have time to watch things. Otherwise, we would continue on to Georgetown as planned and tackle the problem there.
Soon, I could pick out the winking red and green lights of the channel buoys and the steady white flashes of the harbor sea buoy light marking the Charleston Harbor channel. (Sea buoys mark the seaward most portion of an inlet or harbor channel.) The lights of anchored ships also became visible and their AIS (Automated Identifications System) signals began appearing on our chartplotter screen. Surprisingly, there were no moving ships or boats within the channel, except for one, the tugboat MARY BENNETT.
The battery charging issues had settled down, with voltages in a more normal range, albeit on the high end. The battery light had remained dark for over an hour. At around 1:30 AM, we were close enough to the channel that I could distinctly see the lights of the MARY BENNETT and the barge she was pushing. However, I was a bit puzzled as to what exactly she was doing. I watched her visually and on AIS as she seemed to be making slow wide turns, moving first to the east and then to the west, between two sets of channel buoys. The AIS system calculates ‘CPA,’ or ‘Closest Point of Approach’ between vessels based on the course and speed of each vessel within a predetermined range. The CPA for MARY BENNETT was varying from a few hundred yards to nearly one and a half miles. If she was pushing a barge, and heading out of the channel, I needed to know. I decided to call her on the radio.
“MARY BENNETT, MARY BENNETT, MARY BENNETT, this is the Sailing Vessel JO BETH on channel 16, over.”
A cheerful male voice with a slight Texas twang answered.
“Hey, vessel calling MARY BENNETT, that’s me! Somebody wants to talk to me! Switch and answer channel 71, acknowledge channel 71, over.”
“JO BETH switching to channel 71, over.” I clicked the channel control buttons until 71 showed on the radio display and pressed the microphone button.
“MARY BENNETT, JO BETH.”
“JO BETH, cap’n, how are you this fine evening, over?”
“MARY BENNETT, things are good, thanks. I’m the sailboat about 2 miles to your southeast, over.”
“JO BETH, I see you visually and got you on AIS. Making 5.8 knots and no wind? Your lights tell me you’re under power, over.”
“MARY BENNETT, roger that, I’m under motor power and about to cross the Charleston Harbor channel entrance. Are you outbound Charleston, towing or pushing ahead, over?”
“JO BETH, nah cap’n, I’m not doin’ neither. Just doin’ a little dredging and smoothing on the channel bottom here ‘tween reds four and six. I’m like a road grader on the ocean. You’re good to cross, cap’n, over.”
“MARY BENNETT, thank you sir. Have a good evening, over.”
“JO BETH, you’re welcome. Where you headed, over?”
And so ensued another ten minutes of chat, covering everything from the music we were both listening to that night, to sailing in and around Charleston, to BBQ, and of course, the weather. As I watched the lights of MARY BENNETT fade over our stern and into the night, I couldn’t decide if her Texas captain was bored, lonesome, or a little of both.
The loom of Charleston’s lights and the lights of those ships awaiting entry to her harbor soon dimmed on the horizon. The battery light had started to flicker again, but the charging voltages weren’t insane as they had been. It was just after 4 AM and I was tired and getting sleepy. I had listened to a podcast and dozed off when my phone timer alerted me. The timer is set to activate every 20 minutes. It reminds me to check our course, scan the horizon for the lights of ships, and to take a quick stock of our situation. I was just about to go and wake Lisa when a speck of light appeared on the horizon in front of us, just off our starboard bow. A split second later, the vessel appeared as an AIS target on the chartplotter.
She was the tug DOLLY MAE, towing a barge load of timber, and was 11 miles to our northeast on a course for Charleston. If neither of us changed our course and speed, our CPA would be less than 100 yards in an hour and a half. That’s far too close. I made a slight course change to the northwest and decided to stay on watch and monitor the situation. As DOLLY MAE slipped ever closer, I called her captain on the radio. He answered and confirmed he had also been tracking our position on AIS and had also altered his course slightly to the southeast. We both agreed this would allow us to pass roughly a mile apart, starboard side to starboard side. After DOLLY MAE and her tow had passed behind us, I woke Lisa. It was just before 5:30 AM.
As she began to stir, I reported our standard change of watch information: we were approaching Cape Romain, a somewhat shallow area of ocean between Charleston and Georgetown. I suggested she take a look at our course after my course change and adjust it as she deemed necessary; I felt we were good, but we may be being set to the west-northwest by current. Otherwise, I reported our present course and speed, the vessels we had passed and with whom I had conversed, and that the battery issue had seemed to calm although the charging voltages were still uncomfortably high. I crawled into our bunk and was soon asleep as JO BETH’s bow hissed through the slight ocean swell.
I awoke a few hours later to an unusual sight. Because the weather was so calm, and the sea state had laid down considerably, we had opened the overhead deck hatches to allow what breeze there was to flow through the cabin. The sun was up and the sky bright and clear. What was unusual was the angle of the hatch was such that I had a perfect reflection of the sea and JO BETH’s bow, literally as if I was standing out there. It took my half-asleep brain to realize what I was seeing. I even noticed one or two small flying fish take to the air.
I climbed the ladder and said ‘good morning’ to Lisa, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin. I grabbed some yogurt and trail mix for breakfast, as Lisa slipped below to take a short nap. She told me she did make a course change to take us a bit further northeast-east from the shallows of Cape Romain, and that our turn to enter the channel into Winyah Bay and Georgetown Harbor was about 12 miles away. At our speed of 6 knots, the turn was to occur in two hours or so. Lisa went below and I waved to a fishing boat as they passed us heading east. The sun was bright, and the sea was flat. All that was missing was the wind. The diesel droned on, and Lisa had reported seeing the battery light flash a few times. The charging voltages were still quite high, in excess of 14.5 volts, but at least it wasn’t going over 15 volts too often.
JO BETH, at Harborwalk Marina, Georgetown, SC
Soon, the red and green buoys of the Winyah Bay entrance channel began to rise on the western horizon, along with treetops and structures on shore. Small fishing boats became more numerous, and at 11:30 AM, we were fully in the channel and moving through the bay. We passed the old Georgetown Lighthouse, now abandoned and out of service, on our starboard side. Soon, we were going against the full flow of the outgoing tide. Our speed over ground dropped from nearly six knots to barely three. It was going to be a long afternoon.
At 4 PM, we secured at Harborwalk Marina in the quaint little harbor of Georgetown. We had originally planned to take on fuel and spend one night there. However, I told Chris, the dockmaster, of our ongoing electrical issues. “Stay as long as you need to,” was his reply. “We understand.” He provided a couple of names of electricians and mechanics to call, but none were available. We walked into the downtown area and had a very generously portioned meal at the aptly named SoCo – short for ‘Southern Comfort Food’ – and returned to JO BETH completely overfed and exhausted.
The next morning, after a delicious southern breakfast at the Thomas Café in downtown, I tackled the electrical issues. Or rather, I attempted to. (Before I go any further, let me state that electricity is not my strong point!) To add to the misery, the automatic battery charger/inverter was now misbehaving and not charging the batteries at all, an issue we’d not previously noticed. The battery charger does just that; it charges the batteries using shoreside electricity. The inverter changes the DC power in the batteries to AC power, so it can be used to power AC appliances – such as our laptops or food processor – when we’re away from shore side power. Needless to say, this was the beginning of the furtherance of our education in marine electrical systems.
The first thing to do was to empty the starboard cockpit locker, where the battery charger/inverter resides, of all the gear stowed there. Some of you will recall we did a full refit of the boat about 5 years ago at the Hinckley Yacht Services yard in Savannah, GA. I had been in text and telephone conversations with the yard electrician since our arrival in Georgetown. Following his guidance led to our emptying of the locker so I could check the operation of the charger/inverter. I also needed to remove a cockpit deck hatch to access the engine alternator and alternator charge regulator, where we felt the root of our battery charging issues lay. Even after following all of Michel’s (the Hinckley electrician) advice, we still hadn’t resolved the issue.
I had also called some friends and contacts in Charleston, SC. After not having any resolution from our own efforts, and faced with the shortage of available help in Georgetown, Lisa and I decided to backtrack to Charleston to see if we could find some electrical assistance there. It would take us at least one and a half days to make it to south Charleston in the waterway, but this was looking like our best option. With luck, we could have repairs completed by the weekend. Then, I received a message from the Hinckley Yacht Services yard manager.
It turns out that Michel was heading to Myrtle Beach to do some work on a Hinckley customer’s boat which was docked there at the end of the week. Dustin said if we could wait in Georgetown an extra few days, he would have Michel stop at our boat to see if he could resolve the issues. This was the best possible solution; Michel had done the installations and rewiring of JO BETH during the refit. He knows her electrical systems better than anyone.
This is almost all of the gear removed from the starboard cockpit locker, seen to the left, to access the battery charger/inverter…
One thing Michel felt may have happened with the battery charger was that the main fuse had blown. The fuse on the charger is not your typical household fuse; it is a heavy and bulky 300 amp beast. Michel suggested I shut down the AC and DC electrical systems completely, then remove the fuse and ohm test it; ‘ohm it out,’ in electrical parlance. The fuse tested to be ‘OK,’ so I reinstalled it and powered up the AC and DC systems. Lo and behold, the battery charger was now working normally! I ran this by Michel, and he believes the unit did a ‘re-set’ when the power was cycled. Fortunately, the charger is still functioning normally.
…and, everything re-stowed…
Michel arrived in the early afternoon the following Thursday and promptly got to work. He verified that the battery charger was indeed functioning correctly. We then shut down the AC power system, isolating JO BETH from shore side power completely. The cockpit deck hatch was removed, and we turned attention to the engine alternator and alternator regulator. After some basic checks and tests, Michel quickly observed the positive wire for the alternator regulator battery temperature sensor was connected to the incorrect terminal on the alternator regulator, while the negative wire was connected properly. We placed the positive wire on the correct terminal and started the engine.
When we disconnect JO BETH from shore power, the charge level voltage of the batteries drops fairly quickly from where the charger was ‘float’ charging, (presuming the batteries are fully charged), to the ‘operational’ full charge level. From there, you can watch the available battery voltage drop as the various DC powered systems on the boat – the refrigerator/freezer, stereo, lights, navigational electronics, etc., all consume power. If the engine isn’t running, our solar panels promptly switch on (if the sun is out!) once shore power is disconnected and begin supplying the batteries with power. If the engine is running, the solar charge controller senses this, and shuts off the panels so power isn’t hitting the batteries from both the panels and the alternator. So far, all seemed well.
Having the cockpit deck hatch open with the engine running also gave me the opportunity to monitor our Racor fuel filter vacuum levels. Many of you will recall our recent fuel issues. The Racor vacuum gauge still showed a positive reading, meaning the fuel filter is not sufficiently ‘clogged’ so that the fuel pumps have to ‘pull’ harder to get fuel through the filter system and to the engine. This was good news!
As the engine ran and the alternator charged the batteries, Michel monitored output voltage from the alternator as I stared at the engine control panel to see if the battery light activated. Fortunately, all seemed to be functioning well. The alternator output voltage peaked, and then dropped to the float charge levels where it should be. We switched on various instruments; the chartplotter and RADAR, lights, etc., to put an increased load demand on the batteries. After an hour or so with no issues, we shut the engine down and declared a cautionary win. Michel was curious as to why we never heard an audible alarm when the battery light on the control panel activated. The engine temperature and oil pressure lights sound an alarm when they activate. A quick trace of the wiring diagram revealed the battery light has no alarm. At night, the light coming on is very obvious, but in daylight, the light is difficult to see unless one is looking directly at the panel when it activates.
We also discovered we had not been shutting down the AC power side correctly when disconnecting JO BETH from shore side power. The procedure we followed was to turn off the AC power inside the boat, then shut down the power at the dock, and then unplug the shore power cable. Often, we had the engine running when doing this. It turns out, this was a likely cause of the early demise of our batteries, which we had to replace in Port Canaveral, Florida after departing the Keys this past spring. Also, we learned we were not completely shutting down the battery charger/inverter. As I mentioned earlier, our battery charger and inverter are a combined charger and inverter, and not two separate units. I was under the impression that turning off the breaker at the AC electrical panel in the boat shut down the charger/inverter completely. It does shut off the charger side, but the inverter side remains ‘powered’ on, as the inverter is directly connected to the batteries. There is a switch at the charger/inverter which we should have been turning off to completely shut off and isolate the inverter when the engine alternator and/or solar panels are doing the charging and the inverter is not in use. We thought this was an ‘emergency’ shut off switch and had been leaving it on continuously!
Georgetown home…
Essentially, this was creating a constant draw on the batteries while either the battery charger, solar panels, or alternator were trying to charge and stabilize them. Considering the power being pulled from the batteries for running electronics, the refrigerator/freezer, lights, etc., it’s no wonder the batteries gave up the ghost off of Canaveral when they should have only been through 1/3 of their average service life. Fortunately, the problems do seem to be resolved. Lesson learned. And while I’m not ready to declare the electrical gremlins smote entirely, things have greatly improved.
During the rest of our time in Georgetown, we wandered the town on foot. We had a delicious lunch at a small Italian Bistro with an absolutely amazing pork cacciatore soup. I jokingly asked our server if the chef would share the recipe, and to our surprise, the chef came to our table and gave us step by step instructions on how to make it! We explored the South Carolina Maritime Museum, a wonderful and well curated museum with an emphasis on the maritime history surrounding the middle South Carolina Coast. We also strolled through neighborhoods and to the commercial fish docks, where we bought fresh shrimp and triggerfish fillets straight off the boat.
JO BETH, on the morning of our departure from Georgetown, SC
We left Georgetown, SC on Sunday morning, August 15, staying in the Intracoastal Waterway to run under power and monitor the battery charging issues. Also, there was no wind, and we would be moving under motor power whether we were ‘outside’ in the ocean or in the waterway. The upside of staying inside was, if we had an issue with the batteries and had to shut down in the waterway, towing assistance would much closer. Another upside is this was new territory for us to explore.
As we left Winyah Bay behind and moved into the Waccamaw River, the landscape began to change. Verdant green marshes no longer bordered the river banks. We found ourselves passing through fragrant cypress forests, often through such narrow channels, I wondered if our mast and rigging would clear the branches of the trees. The river banks were quite steep, at times giving us the impression we were boating through a ravine. We were also curious to know if this stretch of the Waccamaw was more fresh water than brackish water, as we weren’t seeing seabirds such as pelicans, terns, and the like. We did see a lot of ospreys and bald eagles, as well as American Alligators.
Cypress forests along the Wacamaw River in South Carolina
Sunday started under a hot and hazy sun, and by the time we were 10 miles or so north of Georgetown, we heard the rumble of thunder not too far away. The skies to the west and southwest became dark gray, with curtains of rain angling downward. Sprinkles soon started falling as we passed the communities of Pawley’s Island, Murrel’s Inlet, and Waccawache Mar. When we reached the community of Bucksport, the waterway had curved quite far inland, nearly 10 miles from the coast. From there, it slowly angles back to the east. At Socastee, we passed through our first swing bridge. A swing bridge is a type of draw bridge. Instead of the bridge spans raising up to allow vessels to pass, a swing bridge ‘swings’ on a pedestal, which is typically mounted to one side of the channel, but sometimes in the middle. When fully open, the span of the bridge parallels the waterway channel. We would pass through several more swing bridges as we moved north.
The Socastee Swing Bridge…
For most of the day, it sprinkled. We had one rain shower lasting perhaps 45 minutes. The cloud cover kept things reasonably cool. As we passed the Socastee community, vessel traffic on the waterway began to increase significantly. Mostly, these were pontoon boats and jet skis, with a few small fishing boats. As we closed in on the Myrtle Beach area, boats towing wakeboards, skiers, and tubers increased exponentially.
I completely understand recreating on the water, and I understand rushes of adrenaline. I’ve skydived, I’ve rock climbed, I’ve done lots of adrenaline charged fun (and stupid!) things in my life. However, I can honestly say that being towed behind a boat at high speed holds zero appeal for me. The boats towing wakeboarders, tubers, etc., were operating in ways which were quite dangerous, particularly to the person being towed. Several times, they cut directly in front of us, often to avoid another boat, swinging the person on the tube, skis, etc., perilously close to us and others. If a skier fell, or a child bounced from a tube in front of JO BETH, we have no hope of stopping. JO BETH weighs in excess of six tons empty. Laden with stores, fuel and water, she weighs even more. Even slamming the engine into reverse gear would do little good with her moving forward at six knots. We would be in the very real position of losing control of the boat, and inertia would still carry her some distance before we would stop fully. Fortunately, nothing of any consequence happened, but it had Lisa and I on edge for hours. Otherwise, it was the usual inexperienced, ignorant, and inconsiderate boaters and jet skiers that kept our annoyance levels elevated.
The Intracoastal Waterway in the Myrtle Beach area is largely an arrow straight canal, or ‘ditch’ as it is often referred to, and anchorage areas are non-existent. We stopped for the night in Myrtle Beach at the Marina at Grande Dunes. We had a quick dinner at the marina café, and were soon back aboard JO BETH, tired from a long day.
Monday morning, we were off early, bound for Southport, North Carolina, where we planned to wait out forecasted bad weather, provision, and now that the electrical issues seemed to be behind us, rest and relax. After powering for nearly 100 miles, we had experienced zero issues. Fingers and toes crossed.
Before we were clear of Myrtle Beach, we had a challenging stretch of waterway to pass through. Known as the ‘rockpiles,’ it is an approximately three mile long section which is very narrow; so narrow in fact, that two vessels would not be able to pass safely without a high risk of grounding. If there was a larger commercial vessel in the channel, such as a tug or shrimp trawler, it would not be possible to pass at all. The channel was blasted through a solid vein of granite when the waterway was constructed some 100 years ago. The result is a narrow, but reasonably deep channel, lined with exposed and hidden jagged granite ledges and boulders. Vessels entering the rockpiles are requested to announce their transit of the area on VHF radio channel 16, the general hailing/emergency frequency, and channel 13, the frequency monitored and used by commercial vessels. The announcements are made by calling ‘Security,’ (pronounced ‘securi-tay’), repeated three times, and the vessel’s intentions. Ours sounded something like this:
“Security, security, security, hello all stations, hello all stations, hello all stations. This is sailing vessel JO BETH, northbound Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, entering the rockpiles, now passing marker Green 21. All concerned traffic, contact sailing vessel JO BETH on channels 16 or 13. This is sailing vessel JO BETH, standing by channels 16 and 13. Out.”
Fortunately, we had no responses to our call and encountered no other boats in the dreaded rockpiles.
We’re now docked in Southport, NC, once again waiting out more bad weather and watching Tropical Storm Henri closely. We shouldn’t have any real impacts here from Henri, just some squally weather and very big waves emanating from the storm’s passage to our east. We’re thinking of friends in New England and wish them well. Storms are no fun.
As a result of all the delays we’ve experienced this season, we’ve changed our plans. We had initially been sailing for New England, and as that became less likely, we were hoping to make the Chesapeake. Now with further delays brought about from the continuing electrical issues and bad weather, we’ve decided to slow our pace and spend the remainder of the summer cruising the sounds and coastal areas of North Carolina. There’s enough cruising and sailing here to take up an entire summer season, so we should be good. New England, the Chesapeake, all of those areas will be there in the coming seasons.
Until next time.