The Journey Continued...

So... for those of you who haven't noticed - I'm bad at this whole updating of blogs thing... but here are the final days of our journey. Yes, days....

We left the boat at Two Way Fish Camp in Darien, Ga for the week. The plan quickly became that the following weekend, Jack and I would travel down to Darien and sail the boat back in a power day trip. Over the next couple of days Jack and I kept a keen eye on the wind patterns, and everything seemed favorable, that is until the day before we were supposed to leave. However, at this point, we were committed to leaving on Friday morning (I know bad sign from the beginning) mostly due to kidsitting arrangements.

Thursday afternoon:

Dee, Jack's mom, drove us down to Darien and dropped us off. We spent the quickly fading afternoon working on the roller furler and trying to shake the kinks out of the jib. Walt, local sail maker and friend, had supplied us with some ultra strength oil and advice on where the problems most likely lay. Unfortunately, those problems were sitting on top of a 50' mast. Out came the bosun's chair, and soon Jack was hoisting me up, yelling all the while about too many hamburgers and french fries. He supposed my anger at him would put my unease at the ever increasing height out of mind... I guess it worked... Although, being above the highway bridge right next to us was a little unnerving. I quickly greased up everything, and all equipment was looking in fine order. After I came down we pulled the jib all the way out and unclipped this footlong piece of metal that was joining the jib to its halyard. We oiled the roller mechanism and ensured that there was no buckling, sliding, or sticking of any parts. We threaded all the sheets and everything seemed to be in good working order. Our current theory is that there was too much slack at the top of the jib causing a wrap in the halyard and preventing the jib from rolling in and out correctly.

All that to say, we spent the night there in Darien with plans to leave the next morning bright and early.


It Was Friday Morning When We Set Sail and We Were Not Far From the Land When...

Katherine got seasick. We ran out of fuel. The GPS blinked out.

The wind was roaring in our face as we beat into big swells of ocean. The coast is surprisingly shallow through most of her inlets and is constantly shifting, making charts and markers look like abstract art rather than informative guides. It also didn't help that our GPS would decide to blink out at the most shallow and tricky spots.
Yes, I got seasick. Most entertaining, I'm sure. And no, we didn't have the dramamine, because that would have been the intelligent thing to do. Jack, as a result, was always at the helm, except for the times when he had to get up to check on the motor, as she was slowly slipping out of gear and then eventually died. Our stupidity again to blame - as we did not top off the fuel at the dock. Jack said it was like magic. Everytime Katherine would sit up to steer, she'd throw-up. I would sit there at the wheel, bucket between my legs, holding on for dear life, not so much steering as just trying not to capsize us. With no motor, we had to sail. Which was fine with the lots of wind, but not as fine with the wind in your face. We plotted our tacks and decided to enter Sapelo Sound, far south from Ossabaw Sound our original planned entrance point. With no GPS we were relying on our chart and eyeballs, which turned out to be more reliable anyway. We finally managed to enter the intracoastal waterway, where the waves were significantly smaller, and slowly and surely I managed to recover what was left of my sealegs. We had a spare couple of gallons of fuel in a tank onboard, and once we got into smaller waves we were able to put those in to the tank without spilling the diesel all over the deck. We then used the fuel sparingly and made our way to the first marina we could get to, Half Moon Marina below Colonel's Island. That little twisty river getting there was super tricky. The sandbars were shifted out and the marsh had changed so much it was near impossible finding the deep channel. The GPS and charts were again of little assistance. We almost ran aground numerous times. Eventually we made it, using the last of our fuel to motor up to the dock. We fueled up right away, but after our harrowing ordeal, we decided it best to hole up there for the night.

A full day of sailing to get not very much further. Hopefully, we have actually learned something from this trip.

Saturday Morning.

We set sail again, motoring along. The wind is much more favorable, the waters calm. We decide to motor out that twisty river, and even though we had managed to enter the river alright, we did not manage to get out of it. The tides being different, we struck ground not too far away from the dock. We rocked and let out sails and motored forward and backward, and eventually got off the sand bar. (This was my first time ever running aground - an accomplishment!) We take a deep breath and keep on moving. Then Jack hears the bilge pump kick in. Which is unusual, as Wind Mistress takes on almost no water. He shrugs it off, thinking that perhaps we took on a little water during the rocking we had just undergone. But, it keeps running. So, he goes down to take a look, and water is pouring into the bilge. I'm at the helm, and in Jack-fashion, he calmly pops up with a bucket full of riverwater and announces. "So, we're sinking."
"Excuse me... what?!"
He reassures me that we're not taking on more water than the bilge and he can pump out, but that might not last for long. Especially since the bilge pump is run off the battery - which as per our GPS blinking out yesterday due to the "low battery voltage" (despite charging for a week) we weren't sure how long that pump could run. So, we're sinking. My first thought is, "It's gonna be a cold swim back to that dock." Second thought quickly following, "Well, at least it was fun while we had her, although, how do I really explain boating as an investment to my parents after this?"

Meanwhile.... I keep steering, and Jack is hunting for the leak. I turn the motor down as we're approaching another shallow area, and Jack notices that the water pouring in slows down, a strong indicator that the leak is involved with the motor in some capacity. He's throwing stuff every which a way - because the boat is still filled with all our sleeping/camping crapola from the week before. And he's pumping out water, and he's searching for the leak all at the same time. Eventually, he finds it. A hose clamp has come loose on the intake coolant hose for the motor. This hose has just been opened up and is pouring the seawater that is supposed to cool the motor down all over the motor itself, and in turn into our boat. At least it's fixable. However, we're not really in the best spot to fix it. We can't sail through this particular area because it's so shallow. It's hard to find any moving room in the channel, and the channel is not very deep. I slow the motor back so we're going about 2.5knots, so the water pouring in slows way down, and we putter through the rest of the river. Eventually we make it out into deeper waters and back onto the intracoastal waterway. We have enough space to open up the sails and shut off the motor. Jack then tightens the hose clamp back into place, and we are now set to enjoy our beautiful day back to Savannah.

Early morning cocktails are in order, as the sun rises high in the sky over St. Catherine's sound.

We continue up the intracoastal, wary of the ocean's waves, despite the significant lessening of wind today. Easy and quick going today until we get close to our own home territory. We decided to forego Hell's Gate in favor of the Gap that's opened up close to Coffee Bluff. If it works it'll be a quick trip to the dock. If it works. The Gap is deep in the right places, but quickly gets shallow if you're not paying attention, or if the tides aren't right. Well, we didn't even make it to the Gap before we ran into shallow water problems. Just outside Ft. McCallister's marina, a place we frequently visit, but coming from the other direction, we could not get across the sandbar. The GPS, totally incorrect. The chart, obsolete. There are a bunch of bouys directing the channel, but they don't seem to be making any sense, or directing anything. We ran aground three or four times trying to cross from one side of the river to the other. There's a long sandbar stretching way out right down the middle of the river. Eventually, a good samaritan motors over in his zippy little fishing boat and guides us over the bar, saying, "The little green ball (the key marker for the channel) floated away a couple months ago..." Great.... Anyhow, we made it over with his guidance, and continued on to the Gap. Where, we surprisingly didn't have any difficulties. Although, we were blessed with high tide, and we figured that at low tide we would not be able to make it through.

Home Sweet Home!

There was Coffee Bluff waiting for us. Erik standing on the dock awaiting our lines as we pulled her in. Finally. Two weekends and lots of excitement, and now she's at her new home! Now we can set to work.