JO BETH is underway once again, her recent haul out at Tiger Point Boat Works in Fernandina Beach, Florida completed. During the haul out, we tackled some long deferred maintenance and addressed a few necessary repair projects. The marine anti-fouling bottom paint was renewed, we uninstalled the reverse cycling air conditioning/heating system (which we hadn’t used in over a year), serviced the anchor windlass, and did a near complete maintenance and service on the auxiliary inboard diesel engine. This included replacing the coolant circulation pump and thermostat housing and thermostat and the original cooling system heat exchanger assembly and hoses. The remainder of the engine work was ordinary routine maintenance: oil and filter change, air breather system service, fuel system service, and gearbox service. The overly large engine throttle and shift control levers were replaced with a smaller, single-lever system. We also ordered a full inspection of the mast and rigging, something which had not been done since the completion of her refit in 2017.
In addition, we dove headlong into our planning for our summer cruise to Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island, Canada, ordering the appropriate paper charts, cruising guides, and the like. But most importantly, we need to take that first step in sailing to Canada, or anywhere for that matter – we need to start sailing again. That has proven to be extraordinarily difficult. It’s not sailing that has been the challenge; JO BETH is in great shape, well equipped and provisioned. Our challenge was and continues to be, the weather. An unusual spring weather pattern had settled over the southeastern US in March, with persistent and contrary winds, unseasonably cool temperatures, and an apparent resistance to change. Now mid-May, this pattern still persists.
One of the projects we did while hauled out was to replace the old silicon plug for the anchor windlass navy pipe, which feeds the anchor chain in and out of the chain locker; this is the old plug…
…and this is ther replacement plug, cast by our friend Jessica; the color is bright red to improve the visibility of the plug
We are ruled by weather above all else. Weather determines when we sail and when we hide; it propels us towards our chosen destinations and then just as often, prevents us from getting there. It is fickle, it is annoying, and it is an ongoing contradiction, being at the same time wholly predictable and wildly unpredictable. And there is nothing–not one thing–we can do change any of it.
While at Tiger Point, I also improved JO BETH’s boom preventer system, which keeps the boom from swinging out of control when sailing downwind; this is the main preventer line in which I spliced in a shackle for connecting it to the boom…
Launching day, all shiny and new…
We left Fernandina Beach in early April, looking forward to a few quiet days at Cumberland Island, GA. We planned to spend a week or so at anchor there, decompressing from the pressures and hurry-up-and-wait lifestyle that is sailboat maintenance and repair work in a boat yard. And we did just that, lazing about in the unseasonably cool (but refreshing) temperatures, doing little more than reading, eating, sleeping, and watching other boats come and go. While we were at Cumberland, we had a surprise visit from our friend Jerry aboard his tug-trawler, TITAN. Jerry was just completing the Great Loop passage, a trip around the eastern half of the US and portions of Canada via the oceans and river systems.
The Tug-Trawler Yacht TITAN…
Anchored at Cumberland Island, GA…
We were waiting for a weather window to get from Cumberland Island to Beaufort, NC, or at least to Wrightsville Beach, NC, and barring that, to Charleston, SC. After a week or so at Cumberland, we had a favorable forecast to make Wrightsville Beach and made preparations to get underway.
While at Tiger Point, one of the projects we did was a service of the electric anchor windlass. The windlass had been installed by JO BETH’s previous owners, sometime in the late 1990’s as best we could determine. When we were buying JO BETH, I had a couple of lengthy conversations on the phone with Bud, her original owner, and the person who commissioned her construction, and I asked him about the windlass. He told me he liked it because it was simple and didn’t need much maintenance. “It’s just an electric motor with gears. Get some grease on the shafts and oil on the gears every so often. That’s all she needs.” Lisa and I have owned JO BETH for 20 years now, and I had never serviced the windlass.
The anchor windlass is made by the French company Lofrans and is the Tigres model. It is a beast of a machine but simple, as Bud described. Undeniably powerful, it seems a bit big for the boat. It has an electric-raise function, controlled by a foot-operated switch to raise the anchor and chain up from the seabed; deployment of the anchor is by ‘free-fall,’ or gravity. The windlass also has a manual operation override, so that if we experience an electrical system power failure on board or a problem with the electrical functioning of the windlass, we can still bring the anchor and chain in, albeit more slowly. JO BETH’s primary anchor weighs 44 pounds, and the 5/16” chain we use weighs just a little more than a pound per foot of length. We’re conservative sailors and routinely have around 100’ of chain out when anchored, more if bad weather is expected or the water depth warrants it. We generally try to set the anchor and chain at a 5:1 ‘scope;’ that is to say, we want at least five feet of chain out for every vertical foot of water depth. The deeper the water, the more chain we need to set out to be secured. That’s a lot of weight to have pull in vertically by hand!
We were primed and ready to head out of St. Marys Inlet and into the Atlantic, eager for the passage ahead. I went to press the foot switch to start pulling in chain and…nothing happened. No windlass motor noise, no rattle of chain tumbling into the chain locker, nothing. I started back to the cockpit and told Lisa I had forgotten to turn on the windlass breaker. She took a look and replied, “no, it’s on.” She asked me what was wrong and I told her the windlass wasn’t working. Her eyes narrowed and I knew what was coming next.
When I told Lisa we should service the windlass during the haul out period, she was against it. “It’s working fine, we’ve had no problems with it,” she protested. I pressed my case, and was met with, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” I told her it was broken, that the manual functions were seized and didn’t work at all, and that the gasket which seals the electrical motor housing was rotted. I had tried to inject grease through the grease nipple and it wouldn’t push even a sliver through. The gear box oil was a thick orange paste. The windlass needed to be serviced, or it was going to leave us in a serious jam, most likely at the worst possible time. I persisted and Lisa finally relented.
The Lofrans Tigres Windlass service in progress…
Now, she wasn’t happy. “I knew this was going to happen,” she muttered, and not at all to herself. She looked at me. “Didn’t I say this would happen?” I held both hands up. “Yes, you did, but this is something electrical. The service work done was all mechanical. Let me check the electrical connections below.” I did and found nothing amiss, except some suspiciously loose wiring on the foot switch. Unfortunately, the underside of the foot switch had been completely ensconced in polyurethane caulking by Bud, and it was impossible to see the actual wire connections. I couldn’t quite reach it with my short arms, and was out of options. Time to true test the manual operation of the windlass.
Lisa cast a serious side-eye my way as I went back on deck. “Hey,” I said with as much optimism as I could muster, “the manual operation works now.” I grabbed the windlass handle, a two and a half foot long stainless steel bar, and headed to the bow. After several minutes of grunting and ratcheting, the anchor and chain were aboard and secured. We then called the Tiger Point Boat Yard office and let them know we were heading back in with a (hopefully) minor problem. Indeed it was a minor problem – the foot switch had failed - and I had a spare switch aboard.
However, the delay cost us our weather window and when we left Fernandina Beach the following morning, we had favorable forecast conditions to make it to Charleston, SC., where we planned to stay anchored for another week of waiting. We slipped off the Tiger Point service dock just after sunrise and rode the last of the outgoing tide to the ocean, where we found conditions contrary to what had been forecast. Instead of E-SE winds, we encountered light E-NE winds. After motor sailing and creeping slowly north through the day against a slowly rising breeze, we gave up and turned into St. Simons Sound, making for the Frederica River where we anchored. We were able to connect with friends at Brunswick Landing Marina, get our laundry done, and top up our fresh stores and other provisions. The weather forecasts were not promising for sailing offshore, and after a week at anchor in The Frederica River we decided to press north, putting miles under the keel in the Intracoastal Waterway.
Some 17 miles north of St. Simons, the intracoastal waterway passes through the aptly-named Little Mud River near Darien, GA. The Little Mud is notoriously shallow, and at low tide there isn’t enough water for JO BETH to get through, so we had to time our transit on the high tide. As high tide was in the early afternoon this made for a fairly short day underway, and we anchored in the Duplin River at Sapelo Island for the night in the late afternoon, only making some 20 or so miles for the day. The next morning we were underway at dawn, and heading for Walburg Creek at St. Catherines Island. The weather forecast for the late afternoon and overnight was quite dire, with severe thunderstorms and very strong southerly winds predicted. We arrived at Walburg Creek just as the skies began to darken and rain began to fall. The forecast winds and thunderstorms never materialized, but the rain pounded down for some seven hours without slowing.
The next morning, Friday, we got underway early beneath a leaden sky as the predicted southerly wind filled in. The skies cleared throughout the day, and by late afternoon we were anchored in Turner Creek just south of Savannah in brilliant sunshine and blue skies. More severe weather was forecast for the weekend and we booked a slip at Thunderbolt Marina for Saturday and Sunday. Our friend Chris Donnelly operates a small marina and boatyard on Turner Creek and had graciously received mail for us at his facility a few days prior to our arrival. We took the dinghy in to retrieve the mail and spent some time visiting and catching up. The new boaters’ showers were beautiful and roomy. Too bad he doesn’t offer slips at his marina for transient boats; the facilities are just for boats on which they’re working.
Turner Creek anchorage, south of Savannah, GA…
Turner Creek is a busy and narrow waterway bordering Wilmington and Talahi Islands southeast of Savannah, and is ringed with private docks and several small marinas. The anchorage area of the creek is close to the very popular and busy boat ramp on Johnny Mercer Boulevard. The small boat traffic and subsequent wakes were non-stop, from before dawn until well after midnight, as small fishing boats passed us, stereos blasting what we can only describe as ‘country hip-hop.’ Early Saturday afternoon, we weighed anchor and motored the short distance to Thunderbolt Marina and secured ourselves and JO BETH for a potentially bumpy ride.
This time, severe thunderstorms and strong winds did move in as predicted. Fortunately, the winds were from the west, and the mainland and marina buildings sheltered us for the most part. We did laundry and showered, also topping up our fresh provisions once again. We also visited with our good friends Paul and Greg, both of whom played significant roles in JO BETH’s refit a few years back, and we hit a couple of our favorite restaurants for seafood and pizza. Lisa was able to have tea on board with her friend Kate Monday morning for a much anticipated catch-up visit.
The skies had cleared by Monday, and in the late morning after Kate’s departure we took on diesel fuel and topped up our fresh water tanks. The west winds were still blowing but with a bit less of a punch, and around noon, we slipped our dock lines and began moving north in the waterway towards Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. Of course, it was dead low tide and we were about to transit more shallow stretches of the waterway as we crossed from Georgia into South Carolina. The west wind remained brisk, at around 18 knots, (roughly 22 mph), and was to take us by surprise later in the day. The waterway here is beautiful, filled with wildlife and scenic vistas. We were soon passing Daufuskie Island and as we entered the Cooper River along Daufuskie’s northwestern side, the winds began to blast.
The wind speed rapidly built from the low 20 knot range into the middle 30’s, and pummeled us with gusts approaching 40 knots. Once or twice, gusts exceeding 40 knots heeled us sharply – that’s 46 mph and stronger! Fortunately, we had no sail up; if we had, things could have rapidly gotten out of control. We rocketed down the Cooper River and into Calibogue Sound, making for our anchorage in Skull Creek, where we hoped heavily forested Pinckney Island would give us some protection from the relentless west wind.
Once we entered the waters of Calibogue Sound, the winds eased back into the high teens and low 20’s. As we entered Skull Creek and neared our planned anchorage, the winds relaxed even more, and we began to look forward to getting stopped and enjoying a calm evening – but our calm night at anchor was not to be.
As we approached the anchorage, the winds once again increased back into the 30 knot range. The gusts howled and shook the rigging, as we struggled to get JO BETH oriented bow to wind to get the anchor down and set. As soon as we would get ready to drop the anchor, a gust of wind would hit and send us careening off in one direction or another. Lisa and I almost had to shout to be heard over the wind noise. Less than a mile away was Skull Creek Marina, and from our position, we could see the long and straight fuel dock was empty. We quickly decided to make for the inside of the fuel dock and get tied alongside. It was after five in the afternoon and I knew no one was likely in the office. We would take the ‘ask for forgiveness instead of permission’ approach to taking space there. As Lisa spun us around and powered ahead for the dock, I tried calling the office. To my surprise, Ben, the dockmaster, answered. “C’mon in,” he said, adding, “I’ll be down to catch lines.”
As we approached the dock, it was a messy scene. Steep, wind driven waves in the creek had built and were curling over and breaking on the dock like surf on a beach. The wind drove us away from the dock, even as Lisa aimed JO BETH’s bow directly for it. I got one of our long amidships lines, called ‘spring lines’ to Ben and he quickly secured it to a cleat. Lisa powered us ahead while turning to port at the same time, in an effort to push JO BETH closer to the dock. The lines and cleats groaned under the strain, but once we were able to get bow and stern lines passed across to Ben, we gained much more control. We quickly added a shortened breast line to the amidships cleat and were secured. Ben then offered to move us into a slip if we would prefer. We politely declined, given how difficult docking along a long and unoccupied stretch of dock had been. Lisa and I shuddered at the thought of trying to maneuver JO BETH in those conditions while in close proximity to other yachts. We thanked Ben profusely as he left us to go home.
Soon after, Lisa had noticed another sailboat approaching the outside of the fuel dock, preparing to dock. Ben had told us things worked out well for us to be on the inside of the dock, as a ninety-foot motoryacht was due to arrive later that evening and her crew had been instructed to tie on the outside of the fuel dock. Lisa yelled to the crew of the approaching sailboat that they couldn’t dock there. As they pulled away, I shouted to them to try the dock office for Ben. They turned and headed down Skull Creek. We saw them the next morning and they thanked us for our passing of information. Fortunately, they were able to get a slip at the opposite end of the marina. A half hour after they turned out, the motoryacht arrived. It took her crew and me nearly 45 minutes to get her secured! Lucky for us, she proved a fantastic windbreak for JO BETH!
Later in the evening, the winds had dropped back into the low twenties once again. The winds blew strong well into the next day and we wound up spending two nights at Skull Creek Marina. While at Hilton Head, we reconnected with friends Keith and Julie (thanks y’all for the margaritas), and once again topped up our fresh provisions.
After two days at Skull Creek Marina, we finally had a good forecast to put to sea and head north, at least as far as Wrightsville Beach, NC. At 2pm on a cloudy Thursday afternoon, we untied our lines and powered away from the dock at and headed under motor power into Port Royal Sound. By sunset we were out of the Sound and into the Atlantic Ocean, and set the mainsail and jib, or headsail. We pointed our bow to the northeast and began a spirited sail in 15 knots or so of southwesterly wind towards The Cape Fear River entrance at Southport, North Carolina, some 200 miles distant. We enjoyed a light dinner as the sun set over South Carolina, and watched as the skies cleared and the full moon rose, a bright orange orb on the eastern horizon, illuminating the night.
Bashing through head seas, bound for Wrightsville, Beach, NC…
Lisa and I began our night watch routine, with her taking the 9pm to 1am watch, and me the 1am to 5am shift. As she came on watch at 5am, we were approaching Charleston, South Carolina. The winds had dropped and we were making less than three knots of speed over the ground. We furled in the headsail and started the motor, and I retreated to the forward cabin for some rest.
We’re often asked how we pass the time when on watch. Lisa often reads and listens to music; I usually listen to podcasts I download before we depart, such as Things You Should Know, This American Life, The Moth Radio Hour, Ten-Percent Happier, Milk Street Radio, Car Talk, and the like. We both listen to music, though our musical tastes vary somewhat; Lisa will listen to a lot of classic rock and southern rock; I listen to a lot of symphonic metal rock and foreign music, and we both enjoy light jazz and classical. We snack and if it’s chilly, have some hot chocolate or tea. During our watches, both of us do a complete three-sixty scan of the horizon every twenty minutes or so, looking for lights of other vessels. Sometimes, we take short naps between our horizon scans. We also make notes at the top of the hour in the log, noting our course and speed, position in latitude and longitude, weather conditions, etc. An unbreakable rule for us is that when we are at sea, neither of us will leave the cockpit without wearing our safety harnesses and being clipped into safety lines, called ‘jacklines,’ which run the length of the deck on each side, and without the other person being in the cockpit. This is especially so at night. Our harnesses are automatic deploying lifejackets, and are fitted with lights and emergency position indicating beacons. They are designed to be used to hoist us back on board, something we hope never, ever, has to happen.
On watch, somewhere off of the Carolinas…
By late afternoon, we were passing Georgetown, South Carolina, and the winds were now down to a feeble four knots from the southeast. The sea grew calm, and we motored through the night, a mere 20 miles offshore, the loom of lights from Myrtle Beach glowing on the horizon.
When my watch started at one the following morning, we were approaching the outer marks for the Cape Fear River and the town of Southport, North Carolina. JO BETH’s diesel motor pushed her through the mirror calm sea with ease and at 4:30am, we were at the entrance channel for the Cape Fear River. The Cape Fear River is the water highway for cargo and military ships bound for the inland port of Wilmington, North Carolina. This Saturday morning was a busy one. A dredge ship was working on the outer edges of the channel, and our RADAR and AIS systems indicated two ships in front of us were entering the harbor, and two ships and a harbor pilot boat were outbound in the river, soon to be in the channel with us. I made the decision to let Lisa sleep a bit longer and adjusted our course to keep us just outside of the southwestern side of the channel and out of everyone’s way. I made a Security Call on the VHF radio so the ships were aware of us, and stated our intentions in keeping clear of the channel. The water outside of the channel averages 30 feet deep; inside the channel, it is more than 50. JO BETH only needs five feet of water depth to float; the cargo ships need 40 feet or more.
After the last ship had passed and I made sure no others were coming our way, I reentered the channel. Once into the river, just past dawn, I woke Lisa. We dropped and secured the mainsail, which we had left raised to dampen the rolling in the ocean swell, and proceeded to motor to our anchorage in Banks Channel, at Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. By eleven in the morning, we were anchored and once again, facing a week of squally weather and those unrelenting north winds. The bright side was, we met up with our friends Reuel and Pam who live in Wilmington, and enjoyed time at their home doing laundry, catching up with mail, and – most importantly - visiting.
After a week in Wrightsville Beach, we had a short window of opportunity to get a bit further north. At dawn on Saturday morning, we weighed anchor and powered out of Banks Channel, raising the mainsail as we went through the horribly rough Masonboro Inlet and into the Atlantic. We set a course E-NE, with the goal of making Cape Lookout Bight, a part of Cape Lookout National Seashore, near Beaufort, NC. Once clear of the inlet, the seas calmed down, but were still larger than had been forecast. The winds were pretty much as forecast, for the SW and light, at around six knots or so. The official forecast called for the winds to build gradually through the day and by late afternoon as we would be arriving at the bight, to be near 20 knots. It didn’t go quite that way, as the winds stayed light until midafternoon, when they quickly strengthened to 18 knots. We entered the bight in the last hour of daylight and found a place to anchor on the SW side of the basin. There were a half dozen boats there, including the small United States Coast Guard Cutter POMPANO, which was secured to a mooring the Coast Guard maintains inside the basin.
Sunday morning dawned gray and dreary and we spent the day in generally blustery conditions. Rain showers came and went, and Monday morning dawned with a clear sky. We left Cape Lookout Bight around 9am and made for the Beaufort Channel Entrance, with the tiny town of Oriental, NC our planned destination. We would then move from Oriental, NC to Washington, NC on Tuesday.
JO BETH’s builder, Pacific Seacraft is located in Washington. Over the past year, possibly longer, we’ve had a deck leak. In the forward cabin, which is basically our ‘bedroom,’ two of the lockers where Lisa stores her clothes were consistently damp or wet. We had been experiencing a lot of condensation issues throughout the boat, particularly in the cooler months of the year, and chalked up the problem to that. In the fall of last year, we installed insulation in all of the clothes lockers, basically eliminating the condensation issues. We then noticed that after a rough sail, especially when the wind was coming from the starboard, or right-hand side of the boat and was forward of the amidships point, Lisa’s clothes lockers were wet. The leak only happens when we’ve sailed ‘hard on the wind on starboard tack,’ in nautical parlance, a way of sailing into the wind at an angle. It hasn’t happened when in rain, or when washing the boat. We’ve not been able to locate the leak and resolve it. Our hope is, some of the folks who build and repair the boats regularly will be able to give us some guidance. If nothing else, another set or two of eyes on the problem can’t hurt. Lisa’s tired of getting dressed from Ziplock bags!
MISS KIRK, a Carolina Commercial Trawler, overtakes us in Adams Creek, south of Oriental…
We motored through Beaufort, through narrow Core Creek and into Adams Creek. Adams Creek is also a fairly narrow stretch of water, but generally consistent in depth and easy to navigate. However, every time we transit Adams Creek, we encounter one or more of the big Carolina shrimp trawlers. This time was no different, and the trawler MISS KIRK overtook us as we approached the entrance to the Neuse River.
We carried on to across the Neuse to Oriental, and found the tiny anchorage at capacity. The free docks were also full, with one of the free docks occupied by a large sailing catamaran. This took us by surprise, as the width of these boats – the ‘beam’ – is significant. Where the catamaran was secured on the free dock, it’s starboard hull was blocking at least two and perhaps three slips at the adjacent private marina. Lisa and I wondered if the marina dockmaster had complained to the catamarans captain or her owners.
We turned out of the harbor and back into the Nuese River, making for the South River, a few miles southeast of Oriental. Once inside the South River entrance, we had the place to ourselves, more or less. The anchorage is huge, and the nearest other boat to us was perhaps a mile away. We quickly realized this would be a better spot for us than Oriental’s tiny harbor. It was larger, quieter, much less crowded, and best of all, darker. We spent a very restful night there.
The beautiful and peaceful South River anchorage…
The next morning, we weighed anchor and powered through Goose Creek Cut and into the Pamlico River. By late afternoon, we were secured once again at the Washington Town Docks, some 30 miles west of Pamlico Sound. We spent nearly two months here in the fall of 2021, quite unintentionally. On that trip, I slipped on the wet dock of the boat, seriously injuring my left shoulder. This time, I’m being much more careful, though weather will likely keep us here for several days. That’s fine though. We like Washington.