July 2006 Vacation Cruising in Coastal North Carolina
Tuesday, July 11th

Journey: Wrightsville Beach to Cape Lookout (View Map)
Nautical Miles: 73.4
Sailing Hours: 12.5
Motoring Hours: 6.5

As I write this on the morning of July 12th, we sit at anchor in Cape Lookout. If you back up to the previous blog entry, you will note that yesterday we were in Wrightsville Beach. This entry is dedicated to telling you how we got from point A to point B.

It is said that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Well, if you look at the coast of North Carolina between Wrightsville Beach and Cape Lookout, you will notice the curvature of the coastline, which we had to follow on our trip down the ICW. This resulted in a southbound journey of ~96 nautical miles. We decided to make the return trip the shortest route possible, across mother-mother ocean (~74 nautical miles). An added benefit is the ability to sail rather than simply move along under motor, and by this time we are itching to stretch out Ashiya's sails and give Mr. Engine-Sir a rest. This disadvantage to this route is that so much ocean can be a little big and scary from the cockpit of a little boat like Ashiya, and there are no marinas or anchor spots out in the big blue (should we encounter any weather or mechanical problems).

Armed with supplies, a great weather forecast, and (most importantly) confidence in each other, we motored away from the dock as soon as there was enough light to discern a red marker from a green one. We watched the sun rise over the sands of Wrightsville Beach as we motored out of the Masonboro Inlet. Once past the final buoy, we raised our mainsail only to have it flop ineffectually in the rolling waves. We dropped the main and tried the big genoa alone, to similar effect. In the available light winds, our genoa is simply too heavy to remain full as the mast swings through the waves. As a last-ditch effort to get moving under sail, Sheryl suggested that we drop the big genny and try the smaller, lighter hank-on jib. It took some time for her to re-run the sheets while I tried to minimize the effects of the swells. All the while, we could hear the out-of-tune "gong" of the Masonboro Inlet buoy, a truly annoying repetitive sound.

Finally, we were under sail with jib alone, moving at a staggering pace of 1.5 knots. At this pace it will take us just over two days to make it to our destination. In addition to our speed, or lack thereof, the wind was coming from the opposite direction predicted by NOAA. I surmised that we were sailing on a breeze coming off of the land, drawn by the warmer air over the ocean. Within an hour, our mild land breeze disappeared and the surface of the ocean turned to glass. After confirming with NOAA that the offshore buoys were reporting winds ranging from "calm" to 2 knots, we decided to employ the iron genny to make some headway toward our intended goal, at least until something nearer to the predicted 10 knot wind from the south materialized.

As Mr. Engine-Sir churned a path over the smooth rollers, we had numerous dolphin sightings, including a group of three who came right up to the boat to wave and wish us good luck on our journey. As so often happens in our interactions with dolphins, they portend good things for Team Ashiya. Shortly after the dolphins anointed us with their nautical blessings, ripples began to appear on the water's surface. We eagerly watched the water's surface and the windvane at the top of the mast for signs of sufficiently consistent winds to sail upon. Eventually, the time came where there was just enough wind to put up both sails and give the engine a rest. Ah, the beautiful sound of silence, save for an occasional wave dumping wind from the sails, causing a momentary flutter and clang as they refilled. Soon, however, the winds picked up to the 10 knot range, and we trimmed the sails for a beautiful beam reach. At 1:00pm we set the sails on a tack and we did not have to touch the sheets again until 10:30pm (reaching along at a nice 4-5 knot pace the entire time).

During the intervening hours, Sheryl and I continued our two-hour shifts at the helm as all sight of land fell away. We were entertained by the occasional flying fish (as it was my first opportunity to see a flying fish, I was amazed at the distances and speeds those things can attain). We read and rested during our downtime shifts. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch, and cooked a hot meal for dinner, all as Ashiya climbed, fell, and rolled along with the waves. As we came back within sight of land, we had a sighting of a large turtle within 5 feet of the boat.

The sun set, plunging us into darkness, and we sailed on, using the light from the Cape Lookout lighthouse as our guide. Visible from 12 nautical miles away, having this unique opportunity to share the common experience of such a time-tested navigational aid with mariners of centuries before us made us truly feel as though we deserve the title of Sailors. We passed the more modern navigational aid, the marker at Beaufort Inlet, which employs a horn as its sound signal. It let out a long, low "whooo" which sounded forlorn over the inky black waves.

As we sighted flashing red buoy #4, which would guide us into the bight, the moon began to rise. It transitioned through a rusty-orange color at the horizon to a glowing white orb which sent a welcome shimmering glow over the waves. As we approached within 3 miles of Cape Lookout, the moon revealed the sand dunes and helped us orient ourselves to the entrance. Within a mile of the flashing red buoy, we fired up the well-rested Mr. Engine-Sir and dropped the sails. It was with some degree of trepidation that we motored toward the buoy. It was comforting to see the land mass to starboard in the glow of the moonlight, but disquieting that the sands of Shackleford banks remained invisible in the shadows to port. Regardless, we motored successfully into the bight and I turned the helm over to Sheryl while I went forward to prepare the anchor. Judging distance from anchor lights and land at night can be a real challenge, but the light of morning attested to the fact that Sheryl had selected a fantastic spot for what was to be a couple of restful days at anchor. The anchor was set and the engine was off just moments before midnight. We tidied up, as best we could following the long journey, toasted our successful passage with a nightcap, and were sawing logs only a little after 1:00am.

In our dreams we recounted the 18-hour journey (6 hours of motor-assisted propulsion and 12 hours of sailing on a single tack), and all that we have done in the past week. Since we pulled up our anchor here last Thursday, we have collected numerous experiences which have helped to season us as sailors. We are a little less green and a little more salty.