My family prefers to call it "The Trip To And From Hell." The eternal optimist, I concluded "there was no injury, there was no loss of life, the boat did not sink, and therefore it must have been a successful trip." We did manage to return to the same point from which we departed, but there was little in between that resembled "successful."

This grand adventure in the early summer of 2001 actually began the previous autumn as Susan and I took a day trip down the coast from St. Simons Island to St. Mary's Georgia, the departure point for Cumberland Island. Cumberland Island is the largest and southern most barrier islands that forms the coast of Georgia. Cumberland Island has played host throughout most of its modern history as a refuge for the some of the richest families in America.

About our Destination...
After the Revolutionary war, a large track on Cumberland Island was given to General Nathaniel Green as a reward for his contributions and sacrifices during the war. General "Lighthorse" Harry Lee, the father of General Robert E. Lee, died while visiting his friend Nathaniel Green, and was buried on Cumberland Island. Thomas and Lucy Carnegie built a mansion called "Dungeness" on the southern end of the island. In addition, they built homes (we call them mansions) for their children such as "Plum Orchard" which stands today.

In 1972, the island was designated a National Seashore by the federal government. Although some of the island is still owned by descendants of its rich and famous owners, most is a vast protected wilderness. Over 16 miles of white sand beach are undisturbed and protected by dunes up to 40 feet in height. The island is home to herds of wild horses, loggerhead turtles, and many types of sea birds. Public access is limited to 600 visitors per day who primarily reach the island by ferry from nearby St. Mary's on the coast. Boaters traveling the ICW can stop for the day, but are not allowed to dock at night. Anchoring is allowed, but comes with certain perils, which I will get into later. Camping is limited to specific areas and reservations must be made six months prior to a planned trip. Cumberland Island was in the news a few years ago as the marriage location of John Kennedy. He was looking for privacy, and he found it on Cumberland Island.

Across the ICW and just north of St. Marys lies Kings Bay, the massive 16,000 acre U.S. Naval base, and home port to 10 of the nation's nuclear submarines. Boaters on the ICW frequently share the waters with these monstrous machines. I was not so fortunate, but to sail past this facility is an awesome experience. Impressive also are the gunboats always on duty guarding the waters surrounding the base. This is one area of the ICW that you do not "stray over" to take a look. The buildings which house the submarines are so large they can be seen over 10 miles away.

Behind Georgia's chain of barrier islands is a vast area of salt-water marshes inter-twined with hundreds of creeks and rivers. It is through these waterways that the ICW is charted. While the channel is well marked, boaters are on their own for the alternate site-seeing routes. The distance of my trip from St. Simons to Cumberland was approximately 30 miles as the crow flies. Due to the irregular course of the ICW the distance was more like 40 miles. I calculated that we could motor-sail down in about six hours.

Cast Off, Mates!
After weeks of preparations, the cast of characters assembled on Friday night prior to our departure at dawn Saturday. My crew consisted of 1st Mate Susan, my wife of 28 years and three daughters Cail, Leigh, and Anna. For the record, Leigh was there under protest. I was determined that "the family" was going to experience this adventure as "a unit." In hind-site, it would have been wiser to leave one descendant behind to protect the gene pool in case of catastrophe.

We departed under fair winds and skies with good intentions and great expectations. Being the ever-cautious skipper, I checked the weather daily prior to leaving. The forecast was excellent, and only Tropical Storm Allison moving towards Texas blemished the Southern skies. Little did we know that this storm would circle Houston and then set a course due east for Georgia.

By the time we arrived at Cumberland Island late Saturday, the southwestern winds were bringing the lead edges of Allison towards us. After attending the mandatory orientation conducted by the Park Service, we started uploading ROMA and set up camp. Boaters are generally allowed to dock long enough to unpack. Seacamp Campsite is a half-mile walk from the ranger station overlooking the ICW and is located on the backside of the vast dune system positioned in a forest of live oaks and endless palmettos. Inhabiting this forest are many "friendly" creatures including raccoon and armadillo, so friendly they will literally walk up an invite themselves to dinner. Needless to say, the wife was not receptive to four-legged uninvited dinner guest.

After setting up camp, we took a quick trip to the beach. This day was the culmination of six months of waiting and planning, hundreds of dollars of expense, a voyage through a forsaken wilderness, the toil of lugging hundreds of pounds of "stuff we just have to have" to set up camp, so my eyes were going to bask upon the endless beach. No sooner had my feet touched the white sand, than an ominous rumbling could be heard in the distant western sky. The ever prudent voyager, I insisted on hurrying back to start supper. Before we could make it to the campsite, the first in an endless line of thunderstorms struck. The picturesque campsite now turned into a palatial rain forest. With a small tarp over the grill, we cooked hamburgers under the watchful eye of a friendly armadillo.

By the time dinner was finished, everything we had was soaked and the monsoon was just beginning. We all decided to return to ROMA and forsake the camp to the elements and beasts. Through the downpour and flooded forest trails we lugged necessary items back to the boat. Just before dark, we motored out a hundred yards and dropped anchor for the night (we thought). The weather service was now advising boaters that Tropical Storm Allison had changed heading and would arrive over the Southeast within days. Plans were now changed; we would sleep the night in the relative dryness if not somewhat crowded accommodations of ROMA, and rise at first light to break camp and head back to the marina.

Something Doesn't Feel Right
About 2:00am, I was awakened by the unusual motion, and sound of waves breaking off the beam. The strong changing currents and opposing winds had caused ROMA to break anchor. The nearby dock was disappearing into the night, and we were drifting out to sea. I immediately checked the anchor rode to find it wrapped around the keel. Despite all my efforts it was not coming free, and in short order I was holding only rope with no sign of an anchor attached. With only a smaller anchor as a backup, I knew re-anchoring would be useless. I decided to "break the rules" and tie up at the Park Service dock until dawn. I justified this action since I was a boater in a somewhat distressed situation. I would learn in a couple hours that dawn to a park ranger is not the same as dawn to a boater.

Awakened at first light by a madman with pad and pen in hand, I quickly learned that rangers assigned to a forsaken outpost in ungodly weather have no sense of understanding a sailor's dilemma. After ten minutes of arguing, in which I was repeatedly accused me of lying about my situation, advised that my anchor rode was not sufficient for my size boat, and that I should have had a proper sized backup anchor - the ranger finally relented when I told him we were planning to break camp and return to safe harborage before the main storm arrived. Under the circumstances, I decided not to point out that this anchor and rode size had served ROMA well for 27 years.

Retreat!
ROMA and the family were well underway by 8:00am with a trailing wind and constant rain. Shortly after passing Kings Bay Naval Base I felt the 9.9hp Yamaha outboard losing power. This had been a constant problem due to fouling plugs even though two mechanics had failed to identify the cause. My plan was to shut the motor down and simple change or clean the plugs, a simple five-minute task. With favorable winds, we would loose little time since we were under sail and power. When I attempted to shift the motor to neutral I noticed that something was wrong with the shifting mechanism. A second attempt was successful and I was out of gear. However, I sensed something terrible was wrong because now I had neutral but no forward or reverse gear.

After a thorough diagnosis, I determined that we had lost the transmission and therefore had no auxiliary power. I determined that with luck I could sail ROMA up the ICW and back to Golden Isles Marina. The rain was now constant, but little wind was available in the secluded marshland area of the ICW. After checking the charts I realized that there was a particular area a few miles ahead where the channel narrowed to a couple hundred feet. With an opposing tidal current, I would need a major wind shift to make it through this bottleneck. After tacking up the ICW for a few miles I reached this critical bend in the river. Despite my best efforts I fell a couple hundred yards short of making the turn, which would put the wind to my back.

ROMA starting to drift backwards so I decided to move to the edge of the channel and drop anchor. This was my lowest point of the entire trip. I was now faced with the reality of a broken boat, no hope of sailing home, a torrential rain and approaching storm. The family was very supportive through this ordeal, and even though we were in no immediate danger I could see the concern on their faces. I reluctantly radioed my marina for advice. To my amazement, the signal was very good for the 25-mile distance. The dock-master relayed my position and situation to the TowBoat U.S. affiliate who indicated he could get to my position in a little over an hour. There was little to do now but join the family below for a sandwich and nap.

Houston, we Have a Problem...
Since the cloud of doom was obviously raining on my parade this weekend, I should not have expected my time below to be any different. Although minor compared to the other problems, at this moment the fresh water pump on the pressurized water system decided to die. I almost declared "what else can happen", but realizing that we were still floating and everyone was accounted for, I decided to ignore this latest problem. I will tell you that it was a great relief to see the bright red TowBoat U.S. boat round the bend and head for us.
With little fanfare, the towline was attached and I assumed position at the wheel of ROMA. We found that steering was required if the pulling vessel made a turn because ROMA wanted to go straight. The tow boat skipper asked about my draft and when I told him I could winch up the keel and minimize the draft to 3 ½ feet he indicated that we could take a short cut around the back side of St. Andrews Sound. He said that the waters in the Sound were already getting rough because of the approaching storm. Thus began the four-hour tow back to our home marina. We were being pulled at an excessive speed, but I did not complain considering the weather and the $125 per hour meter charge.

The final stage of the return trip found us in St. Simons Sound and by now the storm and rains were intensifying. Being towed in rough seas is not fun! This was by far the most uncomfortable part of the trip, knowing that I could be under sail power except for the final docking. Why, I asked, did I not have all this wind when I so desperately needed it?

The docking was uneventful with help coming from the dockmaster at the marina. The real pain was parting with $625.00 for the towing service. As we began to pick up the pieces and try to put the ordeal behind us, there was one last surprise. Water was beginning to rise in the cabin floor. Did we have a leak? How could we have a leak? At this point I was exhausted, but could not rest. If a thru-hull was leaking major disaster was eminent. A quick check of the thru-hulls indicated no problem, so where was the water coming from? Unable to determine the source, I concentrated on pumping the bilge to minimize the damage. Removal of the carpets in a constant rain, pumping and bailing soon revealed that there was no leak. This was great news but did not solve the problem of locating the water source. Finally I concluded that the excessive speed incurred during the towing had forced water back through the discharge line to the bilge pump. Since there was no check-valve in the line, water was slowly filling the bilge during the four-hour trip. ROMA was riding bow up during the towing so the water did not reveal itself until we were sitting idle. Although this was good news, it did not diminish the cleanup effort.

On the Bright Side
Dazed, exhausted, demoralized, and financially devastated, the trip with such high hopes had ended in near disaster. The eternal optimist, I concluded that there was no injury, no loss of life, and we did not loose the boat. Therefore, this must have been a successful trip!

The only task left to accomplish on this day was the consumption of a gin-tonic and a fine seafood dinner with the family. Tomorrow would bring its opportunities and challenges, but today's had been met. I went to bed this night bruised and bloody, but not defeated.

Post Log
Interestingly, when I removed the outboard motor to take to the local shop for repair, I immediately noticed that a threaded connection in the shifter linkage had come loose. Within seconds and with only a small pair of pliers the "transmission" problem was repaired. Unfortunately, there was no way of seeing this with the motor mounted in the lazarette hatch. I guess I'll have to chalk this up as a very expensive lesson learned about outboard motors.

After successfully launching ROMA a couple weeks earlier, we (I) decided that the entire family "needed" to experience life on the sea. Partially out of curiosity and more so out of a strong insistence by the "Skipper" about how much fun we'd have, Susan, Cail, Leigh, Anna, and I headed to SSI to enjoy sailing and the 4th of July weekend aboard ROMA.

Although Seafarer literature claims that the S29' model will sleep 5, I suspect that Seafarer never took into consideration how much stuff an all female crew "needs." Combined with the facts that we had no A/C and the 95 degree heat, this was a recipe for mutiny of the highest level.

We had several good shake out cruises in St. Simon's Sound, some great meals at the local restaurants, and we did enjoy watching fireworks shows at SSI, Jekyll Island, and Brunswick - all from the comfort of our dock, but inevitably I decided to keep my head and offer the crew an early out.

Shortly after the firework's shows ended, the unpacking of ROMA started and we hit the road for the 200 mile drive back to the comforts of Casa de Newsome. Never have I seen a boat unloaded and cars packed so quickly. The was the first of many lessons learned over the next few year about just how much my children do not like what I love. (A technical footnote here is that the waterline on ROMA rose over 3" after the "unpacking" was finished.)

Fortunately, the First Mate enjoys sailing and we have never tired of our trips to the coast. We have learned that a healthy mix of beach, pool, sailing, movies, exploring, and lack of children result in very enjoyable trips.

In early 2000 I purchased ROMA, a 29' Swing Keel Seafarer from a good friend and former sailing buddy. After a modest and quick restore of the essential systems, we hauled ROMA to Two-Way Marina on the Altamaha River near Darien, GA for an early summer launch.

From Seafarer ROMA & Sailing Related Photos

A quick historical note here is that we launched ROMA on the same day as the Hunley was raised from Charleston Harbor. I deeply regretted not being able to attend the raising of the Hunley, but several years later I was so fortunate to attend the final chapter of the War of Northern Aggression when the Hunley crew was
buried with full military honors in Charleston.

I have owned sailboats most of my life, but the period between 1980 and 2000 were "dry" years other than my Hobie 16' as the primary duty of fatherhood pushed sailing and boat ownership to the back burner.

In 1998 I looked ahead and realized that I would be 50 years old in 2000, and that I would have a two year period without children in college. After 2002, I would have one or two daughters in college continuously until 2009.

Susan said I had a midlife crisis like men when they buy sports cars or motorcycles. I called it a desperate attempt to get back into sailing while I was still healthy and young enough to enjoy the sport.

I've made few declarations in my life, but this time I felt one was required as I stated that "You are more than welcome, but I'm going with or without you." Fortunately, Susan chose to come along as we started our adventure of blue water sailing and exploration of the coast.

An important footnote here is that our youngest daughter Anna was "forced" to come along on the launching and maiden voyage. Age was not working in her favor at this point in her life.