So, I volunteered to go with my good buddy Will in his Hunter 30 up to Georgetown SC to haul out. Sand and paint the bottom while the Hazzard guys replace his propshaft gland. It was a great experience for me, made me even more sure that we can really do this. It was a five day trip overall.
Day one, Tuesday, we left the city marina early, about 7:30. Got to the Ben Sawyer swing bridge precisely as it was opening, did not have to hold and wait for an hour. Then I went below to check the phone and...WHAM. The whole boat thunked and heeled over. Apparently a channel marker leaped out in front of Will. Big scuff down the side, chunk missing from the rub-rail. I drove for a while after that.
Stopped in McClellanville for the night (below) and bravely decided, Nah, we don't need shore power for one night, we don't need A/C. Wrong! Mosquitoes galore, and they chewed us up while we were sleeping.
Day two, Horsefly Hell Day. They were all over us. But we got some actual sailing in...until the South Santee River. We were towing the dinghy and getting good speed, up over six knots under sail with the motor idling, and all of a sudden we slowed. Hard. The inflatable had nosed under and turned into a sea anchor. Too heavy to lift and pour, so Will circled the boat while I got into the thing and bailed it out. Then we strapped it to the deck.
No trouble getting into Georgetown, and Hazzard Marine was great (also below). Georgetown is a nice little place, but its economy consists entirely of restaurants that close at 3 in the afternoon, and art galleries that don't serve food. We found one of the two places that bravely flew in the face of societal norms and stayed open in the evening, had some burgers and Cokes. Definitely hooked up shore power that night! Average speed over days one and two, just over three and a half knots.
Day three, Haulout Day. Again, Hazzard Marine rocks, hats off to Sam and Jasper. We hand-sanded the hull, wiped it clean, taped it off, and painted...fast! Once the can is open, anti-fouling paint starts curing right away. It had the consistency of grape jelly by the time we got it onto the jackstand patches and the brace spots under the keel. We also noted that the seawater intake for the engine was nearly painted shut. I cleaned it, carefully repainted it without globbing it up.
Checked out the other place that stayed open that evening, Buzz's Roost. Great spot, decent prices. Listened to some excellent open-mike acoustic guitar.
Day four, Getting Lost Day. The channel markers in Winyah Bay definitely want to send you out to sea; finding the ICW entry takes a bit of work, even if you've just come out of it two days earlier. We found plenty of chop, plenty of shallows, and plenty of wind out in the middle of the bay. We did finally get into the Ditch about two hours later than we'd hoped. We started making good time, 5 to 6 knots; the bottom job, gland replacement, unrestricted intake, and clean prop added up to a big gain.
Stopped briefly in McClellanville again for ice; they were nice enough to run us into town again for smokes. Talked with some folks in a pair of little speedboats that were transitting a goodly portion of the ICW, staying in B-and-Bs along the way.
Farther down the Ditch, we threw the hook in a little slough, the convergence of Long Creek and Bull River. Fantastic anchorage, muddy bottom but otherwise very good. Plenty of dolphins, plenty of pelicans, plenty of quiet. That was my first night on the hook, and it sold me on this whole lifestyle.
Day five, Rude Boaters Day. We made good time again, a little over 5 knots until we hit Isle of Palms. Eleventy-seven speedboaters a minute, all waking us. A few were nice enough to slow down, but all but one of them then gunned it too early and waked us anyway. Sullivans Island was no better. I wonder, do powerboaters have a blind spot for sailboats? At least nobody hit us.
Had to wait 40 minutes for the Ben Sawyer swing bridge this time. We idled to it as long as possible, still had to turn back upstream to buy time. The bridge operator was nice enough to warn us on the handheld that he was about to open the bridge and that we should make our turn and get going.
South of the bridge, more rudeboats. But then we got into the Harbor, got sails up, and made it home. All good! It was a great learning experience for me, and I have no doubt that Katie and I can do this now. I spent maybe a third of the trip piloting, two thirds acting as lookout and naviguesser.
Oh! And a closing anecdote. IOP and Sullivans were swarming with bikini babes, on shore and on boats. Apparently they're attracted to rude powerboaters. Anyway, tons of eye candy. Will's a single guy. I'm married, but I have permission to look and comment. And the only sexy sight that we found worthy of comment in all of that mess was on a northbound sloop near the bridge. "Will! Look! In-mast furling!" "Oh, man...beautiful..."
