It’s rather cold. Kindly souls at New Bern lend us a heater and the 120v leads to power it which makes a huge difference to night time temperatures although it’s still two duvet/comforter weather and there’s a significant reluctance to be the first up to switch on the afore mentioned heater. Finally essential jobs are completed, provisions are stowed and the wrapping up of our loaned truck for winter finished so no more excuses, it’s time to leave.

Over night passages are freezing, or at least it feels that way. The northerly winds bring artic chills necessitating significant layering and all possible clothing to be worn. The tea pot acquires a wooly hat tea cosy in a vain attempt to keep the hot tea, hot. Acclimatisation to tropical weather has obviously taken it’s toll and the seasonal chill is not really what we have in mind - so southbound progress is important. Heading into the Intracoastal Waterway ICW (or Icy W…) the marshy lands of south eastern USA - South Carolina and Georgia - showcase bird life in the low lying estuaries and canal cuts. Dolphins porpoise beneath soaring birds of prey, muddy brown water concealing schools of fish while fishermen perch on precarious seats to haul their catch.

Charleston is beautiful. Tree lined streets shade historic homes surrounded by formal gardens, draping wisteria and fragrant flowers. Subtle coloured clapper board houses complete with gas lights, cobbled streets and real gardens. The original market now a tourist mecca of local crafts and Charleston hats plus biscuit stalls, which are not biscuits (or cookies) as the British know them but a flaky scone-ish kind of baked pastry served savory, sweet - or with sausage gravy.

Weaving through shoals between banks of marsh grass on the ICW it’s easy to see the resemblance between African savannah, apparently the inspiration for the town’s namesake, Savannah. Although another story tells of first settlers losing a girl overboard and calling ‘Save Anna’. Stopping overnight at Defirs Cay (De First Cay?) local fair is sampled with islanders reminiscing hurricane tales around an oil drum fire, a focal point if not much of a contributor to the climactic conditions. (The double cut pork chop could feed a small village for a week.)

Leaving the busy ICW for offshore sailing is a relief after a few days of motor boating. The temperatures slowly rise and the water turns from tannin brown to green then finally blue. The tannin stains on the hull we’ll tackle later! The Florida loom beckons eerily through the moonless nights, daylight reveals tower blocks on the horizon and a plethora of sports fishermen zig zagging their way around the ocean. The challenge of night entry to Fort Pierce is to determine which of the lights are navigational markers, and which are traffic lights. But the wind burnt palms and occasional reminders of the horrific hurricane season greet us in the dawn anchorage.