This morning we finalized plans to go nowhere fast. Our next stop will be Mile Hammock, a popular anchorage adjacent to Camp LeJeuene near Onslow Beach. Anchorage means taking Katie ashore in the dinghy. Turf training is a failure so far.
High winds are predicted today and tonight. Katie’s been in the dinghy once, on a flat, calm, sunny afternoon in the St. John’s River a year ago A wind-rough anchorage with no place to cut loose ashore is not an ideal first-for-real experience. So we’re holding off a night hoping for calmer conditions.
An extra day at the dock is good.
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Yesterday afternoon we visited the lovely Cape Fear Yacht Club for cocktail hour. Local boaters welcomed us warmly. We found excellent company in our dockmates — Loopers on our starboard side and Yacht Club members on our port — and YC members who regaled us with advice and stories of the sea.
I think of Masefield’s Sea Fever
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow=rover…
One of those rovers graciously drove me to and from the Food Lion this morning. IH was low on more than I thought — why is it the aisles remind you of what you are running low on?
All in all, fellowship like this makes us feel like we’re in sharp, trustworthy company. That someone is there. That Pete, Katie, and I are never alone.
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SeaTow was casting off as Katie and I left for her run this morning. Engines fired up. Radio crackling.
Many of my Coast Guard friends will remember the furor created in the 1980’s when some near and dear Coast Guard services, like responding to disabled, grounded, or other not-life-threatening distress calls were turned over to commercial services. We thought the world was ending. It didn’t.
Now, I’m glad SeaTow and other commercial services are around. They fill the gray area between full-blown Mayday and a soft grounding, for example. Indeed, we’ve called SeaTow on the phone and radio to check local conditions. They know where people run aground. They have great local knowledge and have always generously shared it.
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Katie’s learned to communicate her preferred go-fetch venue by carrying her ball there, dropping it, and staring hard at me. Today, she chose the crescent-moon river beaches where blue crabs had either washed up or been discarded after a picnic.
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I spent the rest of the day reading. Like friendly locals or trusty salvage services, books are also trusty friends – until the virtual library returns its own novel from my Kindle to their shelves. “I’m at 82%,” I said to Pete, meaning, “Can you please cook dinner even though you already cooked breakfast?”
I couldn’t ask for a better shipmate or husband.
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The sunset brought cooler breeze and low enough temperatures I ventured out to watch sunset from the bridge with Katie, who regularly perches here keeping an eye on things.
Judging by their playlist, I believe Rusty Hooks Dockside Grill is hosting Disco Night. Judging from the parking lot and the girls in dresses and platform sandals across the way, Disco Night is a hot local ticket.
Tomorrow we’re underway early.
Irish Hurricane 