It’s bloody cold again when we wake up and I volunteer to make the tea again because my back is bad, I need to move around and I want to hold a cup of something hot in my hands.
There’s time enough for me to do the laundry before we go as we have to wait for the tide to be on the turn in order to make sure we get under the 67-foot bridge just around the corner. Although we should make it easily, with the additional high tides because of Hurricane Sandy, we can’t be sure of anything.
Two loads of laundry later, lunch made and eaten, water tank full, bird poo hosed and scrubbed off and we are ready to go. It’s blowing outside and still cold even in the sunshine.
The strong wind is blowing us onto the dock and there is now another catamaran parked in front of us on the dock so getting off is not as easy as it would have been before they arrived. Mike takes all the hurricane lines off and rearranges the normal lines so that I can slip them off easily. However, because of the wind direction he will have to forcefully swing the stern out first with me holding the bow line tight to get us away from the dock backwards. This will bring the starboard bow very close to the boat in front so just in case we call the owner out so that he can stand guard with a fender, just in case. As usual, Mike gets it right first time, the fender is not needed and we slip effortlessly away from the dock. He’s just too good sometimes. I put all the fenders and lines away desperate to be busy and not think about the bridge.
Just 30 minutes later though, we are inching up on it. The current is against us which is what Mike planned as he wants to go through very slowly but have the engines on hard. There are no tide boards. We creep up. It’s not low tide but we shouldn’t need it. It looks like we are going to hit but we just slide under, another one that when it comes to it, looks like a 65-footer not a 67-footer. Still, through is through regardless of how many inches there are to spare.
However, less than a mile down the Wappoo Creek and there’s another bridge, a swing bridge so no problem except that we have to wait for nearly half an hour for it to open. With a crosswind and nearly two knots of current against us we bobble around a bit and I’m glad I’m not at the helm. Right on time the bells and alarms sound in front of us and minutes later the bridge starts to open and we pass through.
We trundle along with me thinking that we have now done two of the three bridges to Savannah when I make the mistake of reading the bloody book. Despite what Mike told me, there are five bridges between us and Savannah; one swing bridge, one 67-foot and three 65-foot. So, three more chances of heart failure for me then!
Then comes the Elliott Cut. This presumably man-made channel is very picturesque lined with beautiful houses on both side, but if the tide is against you – oh boy! And of course, the tide is against us, all five knots of it at this point. Fighting our way through we are motoring at 7.5 knots and achieving 2.5 over the ground with both engines going at it. Still, it gives me time to admire the houses and the rather swamp-like trees hanging down to the water.
Actually emerging into the Stono River is so difficult that we almost come to a complete stop, at least that is what it feels like. We go so slowly that the computer charts and their GPS stuff get it all wrong and we appear to go over land and then go sideways before finally we are out and it sorts itself out again.
Eight miles later and there’s another bridge, the other 65-footer of the day. Gritting my teeth, I approach with trepidation. This one is two feet lower than the first one and that looked bad enough. You can actually see it from a couple of miles away across the marshes as you zig zag through the channels to get to it so the tension really builds up. So calm and peaceful this sailing lark! Not!
Because we catch this one at low tide and the tide boards are present and showing 68 feet Mike approaches this one quite confidently and it poses us no problem.
We check Skipper Bob’s anchorage book and find a likely looking place for the night but it’s some miles on and our progress against the currents and the wind is slow. The wind is still blowing and still cold and although I am inside most of the time because I have to sit by the chart plotter and shout the course out to Mike, I am freezing because the doors have to be open so he can hear me.
We see numerous dolphins swimming lazily by today. Ahead, behind or alongside, they never seem to do much though. They probably can’t see where they are going as the water is so brown and muddy. It’s a good job they have sonar!
Eventually just before dark, we pull into Church Creek and put the anchor down. As I stand with my foot on the windlass button, I eye up the bank by the side of the marshes. The tide is still low and I can see thick, gloopy mud. I know that when I pull the anchor up in the morning, this glutinous glug will cling to my anchor chain, no doubt full of scuttlers and other mud dwellers. I shudder, but tomorrow is another day and maybe Mike will do it!
We put the anchor alarm on. The tide will turn half way through the night and if the wind stays strong the boat could swing round 180 degrees – there’s a chance the anchor could pull out although with the amount of chain down we don’t even really need the anchor at all. Still, better to be safe than sorry.
Today we travelled a pathetic 16 miles. Hopefully tomorrow we will do better.
Position: 32 deg 42 min N, 80 deg 10 min W
Distance so far: 3293 miles
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