We left Washington on a miserable, cold and rainy morning: the aftermath of an overnight gale. Progress was hampered as we had to keep slowing down to avoid rafts of driftwood: large limbs of trees blown down by Hurricane Sandy and washed off the shoreline by high spring tides. The sun came out in the afternoon, and with a fair wind and less debris we were able to cut the engine and sail the rest of the fifty miles to the anchorage in Port Tobacco River. Next day dawned sunny but very cold. We set the full main and genoa to sail another forty miles down the Potomac. Along the way, groups of cormorants took off in unison as we approached, pelicans - masters of ground-effect gliding - swooped low over the surface, and gannets and terns dive-bombed with a big splash. We sympathised with a couple of ospreys that had somehow been left behind by their friends, gone on their winter migration. After a night at anchor in the Glebe branch of the Coan River, we headed back out into the choppy waters of the Potomac for the final fifteen miles before it flowed into the Chesapeake Bay. Another thirty miles dead down wind, and we turned up the Piankatank River and anchored in Fishing Bay, off the small town of Deltaville.

We were booked to be hauled out at Chesapeake Boatworks to get the bottom scrubbed off and to carry out some checks and maintenance to parts below the waterline such as anodes, sea-cocks and the rudder. When making the booking, we hadn't reckoned on the four day Thanksgiving weekend, so had to choose between a quick in-and-out or stay until Monday. We decided on the latter so that we could get on with a few extra jobs. Fortunately the yard had one 220 volt (as opposed to the usual US 110 volt) supply that they managed to connect us to, so we were able to keep the batteries charged and run our electric heater to keep out the cold. There was also a constant supply of hot water in the showers. A number of other boats were finishing their refits before heading south, and between us we organised a six-nations Thanksgiving supper on board the New Zealand boat Saliander, owned by Pete and Raywen. We were delighted to catch up again with the Dutch family of Ronne, Bouke, Lieke and Inge from "Bo", whom we'd first met in St.Lucia, among the party. There were also a couple each of Canadians, Germans and Americans. The yard allowed us to use their pick-up truck, so we were able to go into town to buy supplies and have a meal out with Pete and Raywen at the "Sunset Grill". We opted to sit in lonely splendour in the non-smoking room whilst the rest of the clientele puffed away in front of the big TV screens. We were in Virginia, of course. Back in the water and another fifty miles down the Chesapeake, through Hampton Roads and into the Elizabeth River, saw us back in Norfolk, moored again to the dock of Gary and Greta, the local Port Officers for the Ocean Cruising Club.

We stayed two nights before starting the long haul down the Intra-Coastal Waterway. We cast off at 0845 and Amanda steered us up river whilst I performed my regular Thursday slot as controller of the "Magellan" radio net. All of our friends were ahead of us: Mike and Carol on Tashi Delek were having a rough time crossing directly to the BVIs whilst the remainder were spread out between North Carolina and Florida. We moored just upstream of the lock at Great Bridge at midday. A laundrette and a decent supermarket are a short walk away, making this a particularly convenient stopover. Firefly moored just ahead of us, so we joined forces for supper. There were frost on the decks and a thin layer of ice on the water next morning. We passed through three lifting bridges in company with two other sailing yachts and three motor boats. Whilst waiting at the third bridge, dozens of military aircraft swooped down in close succession with a huge roar as they came in to land at an airfield hidden behind the trees. We anchored that evening in a remote spot off the North River, with only 0.8m under the keel. All was completely still, and the moonlight cast an eerie film on the water. By dawn, a line of mist lay amongst the trees of the primeval swampland around us, and a heavy dew lay on the decks. Motoring in a dead calm, the twelve mile wide expanse of Albermarle Sound had a surface like silk as we crossed - in complete contrast to the stormy conditions we had experienced here on our way north exactly six months earlier. It had been sweltering hot then, but now there was only a hint of warmth in the afternoon sunshine. We anchored that evening at the head of the Alligator River.

Next morning, we passed through the twenty mile long artificial cut that connects with the Pungo River; and, as before, eagles circled overhead or perched at the top of tall, dead trees along the bank. We anchored that evening in another remote creek off the Pamlico River. It was a glorious, sunny and slightly warmer morning as we set off through another short length of canal and into the Bay River. In the early afternoon we entered the tight little harbour at Oriental and, with some difficulty, found a clear space that was deep enough for us to anchor. We'd only been there an hour when a large tug and barge belonging to the Coastguard came close alongside. The captain leant out of his window and suggested that we might want to move as they were going to put their spud-legs down and spend the night right in that spot! We had no choice but to re-anchor in a far from ideal location and move back in the morning after the tug had gone. We stayed for three nights while we waited for a weather window for the upcoming offshore leg. Don and D., the local OCC Port Officers, very kindly organised a dinner party for our benefit and helped us with lots of local knowledge, and joined us for a meal on Egret during our last evening. Next morning, we stowed the outboard and dinghy on deck and set off for the final twenty miles of ICW to Beaufort. We stopped off at Jarett Bay Boatworks to top up our diesel and water tanks, and to commiserate over coffee with Stuart and Steph of "Matador", who had been stuck for several days with a serious engine problem. We anchored that afternoon off Fort Macon, just inside the Beaufort Inlet, in the same spot that we had spent our first night in America after arriving from the Caribbean last May.