We left Morehead City in dense fog. Green water one day, fog the next. I'd really like to get my morning cup of coffee down before all the excitement, but I guess it is not to be. It was actually clear when we first left but it soon socked in completely. The sailboat ahead of us ran aground when they veered from the channel but were able to get off under their own power. Jim reminded me that the radar he wanted would light up most of the channel markers. Sigh.
As the fog lifted, we were passed by Wild Duck and Murphy's Irish girlfriend, Puka. They yodeled back and forth again. Not sure what the conversation was about but I'm sure Murphy was asking if he could crew with her on the 55ft luxury trawler and stay at marinas instead of roughing it every night on the hook.
This night found us once again at Camp Lejeune. We tried our darndest
to figure out a different anchorage but there is really nothing good between Morehead and Wrightsville Beach. This time there were armed guards on shore so Dad and Murph dinghied back out to the ICW and around the corner to a little shell beach. They were still illegal but at least out of sight. Murphy was quick about his business, Dad didn't lose the dinghy and soon the crew was back on board safe and sound.