November 24, 2014

Rained all night. Westerly winds screaming 20 knots – wind generator humming pumping those amps into our three marine deep cycle batteries (More detail about that later.)

0730 – Rain has stopped and now a dense fog has set in. Then came the inevitable discussion between first mate buck Talley and Captain Emily about whether we go or wait out the fog. We compromised and decided on a 1000 departure.

1000 – Left in clearing fog. No sooner than we had weighed anchor and entered the main channel of the South Edisto the thick fog crept back in. That’s why we spent all that money on GPS and radar. (Now if I can just figure out how it works.) But work it did and we negotiated the Fenwick Cut which spilled us into the Ashepoo River then the Ashepoo Coosaw Cut to Rock Creek and then the Saw River. A power boat passes to starboard just as we entered the Saw.

We begin a long run up the Saw in clearing skies, warming weather and slightly diminishing winds.

Here is where our luck begin to unravel. Up until not we had done pretty well coming down the ICW, having made pretty good time, survived cold and rainy weather; no catastrophic events. Actually feeling pretty good about ourselves, to the point of being rather smug.

Approaching Beaufort, SC mid-channel, moving along about 7 knots with a strong favorable current at mile 335 and that is when the engine stopped abruptly just about the same time I was thinking that I had not checked the fuel level that morning. Well – tanks do run dry.

Refueling a boat moving along at 7 knots is not like pulling in to 7-11 for a fill up. We had plenty of fuel in jerry cans lashed to the gunnels; the trick is to get the fuel into the tank while under way in a steady 15 knot wind and rolling boat – and quickly. Captain EM handled the helm while I played the part of Lieutenant Dan at the top at the mast in Forest Gump as he converses with God about a storm.

As we lost way (that is lost control of the boat) it became necessary to throw out an anchor in order to complete refueling. To complicate matters, diesel engines don’t run with air in the fuel lines, which is what they get when one forgets to fill the tank and the fuel pump sucks air – which means the forgetter has to bleed the fuel line before the engine will run. (Memo to self – check fuel level in tank daily.)

But the Talley team prevailed and got Flicka running again and we were able to continue our run down to the Ladies Island Swing Bridge just north of Beaufort. Now this is a famous bridge because boaters run aground often on a sand bar on the western side of the channel. It is a bridge that opens on the half hour to let boats through but you have to call the bridge master and ask permission to pass – which, dutifully, we did – just about the time (about 1500) we ran smack dab up onto that sandbar. Hard aground is what we were. Not only were we hard aground but we were hard aground on a rapidly decreasing tide which meant are situation was only going to get worst. The tides here run eight feet. It was moving out quickly - water depth decreasing rapidly. We called Tow Boat US (Fortunately the dope that ran us out of fuel did take out comprehensive towing insurance) and a guy showed up 45 minutes later to pull us off, HOWEVER he could not do it – the tide run was just so rapid that Flicka was fast becoming stranded on the sandbar. He offered to come back on the rising tide. I was convinced that we would float off and we wouldn’t need him. Then he reminded me that severe weather was headed our way – tornados and such. That changed my mind so we made an 1800 date.

 

 

 

 

 

There was only one alternative and that was to wait on the rising tide. So wait we did – while we became the talk of the town. We watch as the trade went completely out then slack. Flicka was literally laying her side on an island. Shore birds came to probe the bar for worms, clams and other delicacies. A great blue came walking by and a pelican or two dropped in to investigate. We watched as the tide raced back in and slowly Flicka begin to shift, stand upright and float. Tow Boat US showed back up, threw us a line and slowly we swung the bow around to point to the channel and slowly – very slowly the tow boat captain inched us off the sandbar, in the rain, wind and DARK. By 2000 we were floating free.

On a boat, in the DARK, in the rain, it is very easy to become disoriented. It’s – well – dark. All you see is lights, shore lights, navigational lights, and plane lights. That is when you better know how to use a compass or, for us modern day sailors, GPS. And when we needed our brand new GPS the most that is exactly when it lost the satellite signal. Big lesson. Know how to use that compass. What was that bearing to the bridge again?

Of course we were in sight of the bridge, but you cannot imagine how different that sucker looks at night. In the rain, wind and dark we had to negotiate our way through the bridge, past the town marina and through a maze of anchored boats – some without anchor lights (Coast Guard required) to a safe anchorage – which we did by 2200hrs. Pouring rain. We are safe and secure.

Challenging day. Lots of lessons learned.

Tomorrow a visit to Beaufort, SC and a couple of Brother Rats.