ICW #3

At Morehead City N.C. the ICW parallels the Atlantic coastline. This is a simply gorgeous stretch of waterway. To the right magnificent homes crowd the mainland shoreline. To the left are the barrier islands—lovely rugged sandbars, some over a mile wide, covered with scrub vegetation and colourful marsh grasses. On one stretch, a small herd of black goats was grazing near the waters edge. And all along the channel dolphins cavorted sporadically right off the starboard side of the boat. On the eastern side of the barrier islands, right at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, we could see silhouetted against the horizon, an endless line of new monster mansions built shoulder to shoulder along the sand. Why anyone would build here is beyond me. With no trees or shade to shelter them from the baking rays of the sun and with winds and waves endlessly shifting the sands, they are under constant threat of being swept away. It is simply astonishing to see the thousands and thousands of expensive upscale houses that have been built along both the island and mainland shoreline of North Carolina. And when you realize that most of them are actually 2nd homes—built for summertime use only, you have to wonder where the money and people come from who can afford them.

Despite the beauty of this stretch of water, I found cruising through it to be extremely difficult. Controlling depths are 12’ but markers are few and far between. It’s very easy to get off course and find yourself out of the channel and in big trouble. It was therefore necessary for me to keep my eyes glued constantly to the numbers on the depth sounder and alter course whenever they started to go down. For 5 nerve-wracking hours, I stared at a digital screen with numbers flashing before my eyes and my heart in my throat as Vince spotted for markers, enjoying the glorious scenery and the antics of the dolphins. Just when I though my ordeal was over and that we had finally made it to our Swansboro anchorage without “incident” I relaxed my vigilance and—Bang!—drove the boat right into the mud! Within minutes a “SeaTow” appeared out of nowhere and pulled us off. Slowly and sheepishly I piloted the boat into the harbour. Vince set the anchor and then went below to check on the engine and, to his dismay, discovered that the bolt “repair” had failed once again!

At first light, with alternator in hand, we dinghied off to “Dudley’s Boatyard” to get advice. Assuring us they would “set things right” a few adjustments were made, parts purchased and we returned once more to the boat where Vince spent the rest of the morning putting the alternator back into place. I meanwhile used this opportunity to explore the delightful old village purchasing supplies at the local “Higgily Piggily” and enjoying a hot coffee with biscotti in a charming little deli. Since it was too late to push on to the next destination before dark, we decided to spend the rest of the day in Swansboro and, after a leisurely lunch, set off in the dinghy to explore one of the pretty barrier islands just off the entrance to the harbour. We pulled our craft up on to what we thought was a pebble beach but once ashore were astounded to discover that the entire shore was thick with not stones but shells! There were mounds of them everywhere—a veritable “shelly paradise”. After carefully selecting the best of them, we loaded up the dinghy and took them back to the boat.

The next day I insisted that Vince drive and that I spot the markers. This worked out very well all around. My nerves had a chance to recover and when Vince drove us into the dirt, I was secretly happy. It somehow cancelled out the bad feelings that I had experienced when I had done the same thing the day before. This time we were able to get ourselves off the shoal but my “secret smirk” was not about to go “unpunished”. No sooner were we up and running with me at the wheel once again than one of the “Big Boys” careened past the boat, throwing up a tremendous wake that splashed water over me from head to toe! My glasses were covered with salt crystals, and mitts and pants soaked through! Thank god I was wearing a rubberized jacket. Once again Vince took the wheel while I scrambled down below, to find dry clothing. In my haste to get warm and dry I neglected to see that my glasses had been knocked to the floor when the muscle boat had sped past. And as the boat was tossed about in the waves I lost my balance and with a sickening crunching sound stomped on them, breaking the arm completely off. What a day! Thankfully we arrived at the marina a few hours later and after hot showers and lunch at “Mollies on the Beach” all was right with the world once again.

The next day, with temperatures still hovering just above freezing, I suggested that we attach the cockpit enclosure that was designed to repel wind, water and weather before setting off on the next leg of the trip. Duh!! Why hadn’t we thought of that earlier in the week when the cold front moved in?! This worked beautifully. Not only did it keep out the cold, but the enclosure actually acted as a sun trap and we had a comfortable cruise all the way to Wrightsville Beach. Happy at last! Until that is, we checked on the engine. Once again the repairs had failed. But this time, instead of a bolt shearing off, the arm of the alternator itself was broken! Enough is enough! This time we called in the “big guns” at “big bucks”. After contacting a reputable marine repair facility and insisting they send a professional out to our boat (at a whopping $90/hr) to do a thorough diagnosis and repair we spent $400. for piece of mind and the job finally done right—or so we hope!