As we make our way down the Intracoastal Waterway, Dorothy and I have had to incorporate a few new skills into our boating skill set. Spending my entire life boating on Chesapeake Bay, you learn what to expect. We’ve weathered thunderstorms on Still Pond with 50 mph winds. We’ve dodged high speed powerboats as they scream up the Havre de Grace channel. We’ve also learned that you don’t go sailboating on a windless
Labor Day weekend, that is, if you want to have any fun. But once we left the familiar confines of our beloved Chesapeake Bay, the rules as they say, have changed.

On Chesapeake Bay, I don’t think there is any place where there is more than a two foot
rise or fall of the tide. No problem, you get used to it. But the farther south we venture, the greater the tidal range, and with it the speed of the water as it rises and falls. On the bay, we knew if we entered any anchorage and had 7 feet of water under the boat, we were good to go. Now, we find ourselves dealing with 5 feet of tidal range, and it’s getting more severe every day we head south. In Georgia I am told, we will get to put our boating skills to the test with 9 or even 10 foot tides. Go to bed with 12 feet of water under the bed, and wake up with the boat lying on its side in the mud. OK, so we’re going to try to avoid that.

On Chesapeake Bay, we knew where to expect the fast currents. Once you scoot through Kent Narrows with a 2 1/2 knot “push” from the current, you adjust accordingly next time through, as to avoid plowing into the drawbridge, much to the amusement of the patrons of Red Eyes’ Dock Bar. But here in the lowlands of South Carolina we didn’t know what to expect. Running through the backside of Shallotte Inlet, I slowed Foolish Heart down to 4 knots, enough to keep steerage, but slow enough that if we went aground, we would have an easy time of it backing off the shoal. All of the sudden, it felt like someone kicked the bow to port, hard. I corrected course, then the boat lurches to starboard, all by itself. Course correction. Check the GPS, still on course, away from the shoal. Check speed, 9 knots! What the heck!? I didn’t move the throttle! There’s water moving all around. Whirlpools, cross currents, eddies, it was all there, and more. At this point, I’m only suggesting to the boat where I would like it to go. It’s got a mind of it’s own, and Dorothy and I are only along for the ride. If you have never sailed, it’s hard to describe the sheer terror of being aboard a 16,000 pound battering ram, only partially in control, moving at 11 miles an hour. Let me tell you my friends, it is a rush. 2 minutes later, it’s all over, I look at the GPS and it reads 3.5 knots. Then, I throttle up, until we reach the next inlet, and it begins again.

So we are learning to” improvise, adapt, and overcome.” (to quote Clint Eastwood from Heartbreak Ridge) We’ve now been out here a month, living on a 35 foot sailboat. Still very much to learn...