June, 1995        

Aboard 'JABBERWOCKY', Great Bridge Station, Chesapeake, Virginia

Dear Family and Friends,

After all the festivities in Vero Beach with my in-laws, our attention needed to be focused in earnest on our return to the north.   Our trip home would be presented in two distinct legs of travel.  Leg 1, the Atlantic Intercoastal Waterway (ICW), is a cleverly orchestrated myriad of rivers, creeks, canals, sounds and bays that travels about 1100 miles from Norfolk, Virginia to Miami, Florida.  Progress along the way can be monitored by mile markers noted on the charts.  For example, Vero Beach is at about mile 950, smack on the Indian River.

North of Norfolk (mile 0), the waterway becomes less precise and considerable more planning will be required for Leg 2 due to inside canal restrictions on mast height, draft (how deep is the water) and the lack of a Corp of Engineers waterway.

Although many miles await our passing, there are also many wonderful opportunities to visit and explore along the east coast.   We have decided that our trip northward needed to be a good compromise of putting miles behind us and seeing the sights.

Getting our tourist interests off to a good start, WQ stayed several days in Cocoa, Florida.  While there we rented a car for three days and, from early morning to late at night, went to the Kennedy Space Center, Disney/MGM Studios and Sea World of Orlando.   A couple of days and about 100 miles later we stopped at Marineland for a day.   Marineland is on old highway AlA and was the original oceanarium.   Although dwarfed by Sea World standards, its charm is not diminished and the nearby marina was very friendly.

St. Augustine is the oldest continuously occupied European settlement in the new world.  I guess it is only appropriate that we toured St. Augustine (and drank from the Fountain of Youth) on May 8, my birthday.  St. Augustine's history is very interesting and the architecture varied and magnificent.  The fort, Castillo de San Marcos has changed country of ownership several times but only by deed as it has never fallen to attack or siege.

After spending the last four months in Florida, on May 1 we entered Georgia.  Early in the planning of this trip Belinda had expressed no desire to go to Florida as her memories of traveling there were only of concrete and high rises.   While there is plenty of highly and overly developed areas, Florida, from a boater's perspective, is very attractive, and Belinda mentioned that her opinion of Florida to be markedly different.

While in Georgia Belinda and Maggie spent a night off JABBERWOCKY with old friends who now live not far from Savannah.  Sean and I traveled the next day to Thunderbolt (mile 585).   Belinda and Maggie returned that evening after an apparent delightful night of sleep in a real bed.  (JABBERWOCKY's interior cushions are all 2-inch thick foam.)

The ICW through northern Georgia and southern South Carolina winds lazily through the marsh lands which make up this portion of the Atlantic Seaboard.  Traveling through this section of the ICW is anything but lazy, however.   Tidal ranges of up to nine feet (how much the water level raises and lowers every eight to twelve hours) create considerable current, which can either augment your speed or seriously impede your progress.  Although beautiful, the marshes are extremely low lying, giving no real cover to boats at anchor but do allow a person to stand on top the boat (6 feet or so above the water) and soc, literally, miles in any direction.  This is normally a wonderful time of year to be traveling, with nice warm days giving way to cool nights.

May 15 was an exception we will long remember.  We were anchored just off the ICW in Bull Creek, within sight of Hilton Head South Carolina about 3 miles to our northeast.   After arriving during a particularly hot early afternoon, we floated out safety lines and jumped overboard to swim in the cool, brackish water. We swam and played around JABBERWOCKY until the tidal currents, safety lines or not, deemed our return topsides.  We had known that a rain squall was on the prowl (when afloat, the weather channel is consulted frequently during the day); and, sure enough, from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m. we were treated to some gusty winds, sheets of rain and some worrisome, but not to close, lightning.

Lightning is the Achilles heel of sailboats due to its unpredictable damage.   Some boats are struck with no apparent damage, others lose electronics, and others, are sunk when a lightning bolt exits the mast into the cabin and then through the floor or via the bronze underwater hull fittings (which are often blown out) on its way to the ground.

In any event, the storm was seemingly over around 9:00 p.m. and, with Maggie already asleep in the V-berth Belinda, Sean and myself had already played   our usual double  - elimination Backgammon championship playoff and were getting ready for bed. It was a very hot evening and the passage of the storm had left us seemingly becalmed with no cooling breezes.   At about 10:00 p.m., out of nowhere, a gust of wind pushed JABBERWOCKY sideways, then straight back against the comforting tug of her anchor.  As Sean and I put away things in the cockpit  (lest they be blown away), Belinda turned on the VHF radio for an updated forecast.  From all the channels applicable to our area the announcers blurted out one warning after another.   Their forecasts were about,   "60 knot winds, 1" Heavy rainfall and "Dangerous lightning"   "Seek Shelter", was their advice.

Anchored in the marsh, even in the daylight, any protection was more than an hour away.   We had no choice but to sit this one out.   Hatches were closed, foul weather gear and PFD's (personal flotation devices, AKA lifejackets) was brought out and more anchor line was let out (longer anchor lines decrease the angle from the boat to the anchor, making it hold better) and made fast to the deck cleat I had installed and specially reinforced a couple of years ago.  We could see it coming, dark clouds that obliterated the stars followed by tall, towering thunderheads that were intermittently illuminated by internal and eternal lightning.   Counting the seconds between the lightning and the thunder, we monitored the progress of the storm.  It didn't take long for the thunder to follow at about 10 seconds  (about 2 miles) to 1 to 3 seconds (1,000 to 3,000 feet). The wind speed picked up considerably, causing our mast and rigging to vibrate and shake.  As the winds howled overhead, I decided to put down another anchor.  Although there was no indication that we were dragging, I wanted the extra protection.  Standing on the bow in 60 knot winds was very difficult (like sticking your head out of your car window at 70mph) and the 3 foot waves that built up in this tiny creek were washing over the deck each time that       JABBERWOCKY dipped her nose to the pull of the anchor.

With our Danforth anchor over the side, I paid out the line and cleated it off.  Literally crawling back to the cockpit I could see during lightning flashes the three other boats that were anchored within a 1/2-mile or so.  They, too, seemed to be bouncing around and having a bad time of it.  As the lightning grew more intense, I had the illusion that we were in a bowl, with lightning all around us.  Having done all that we could do, we donned our PFD's, and while Belinda hastily put together a small 'abandon ship' bag, I readied the dinghy in the cockpit for rapid re-inflation and deployment.

Paying attention to stay away from the metal fixtures of the boat we sat in the cabin near the companionway steps  (even though Belinda had gotten Maggie dressed and put her PFD on, she slept through it all) and waited for the lightning strike that seemed inevitable but, thankfully, never came.  By midnight, calming and clearing, we watched the thunderheads moving offshore and heading out into the Atlantic.

In the morning, preparing to get underway, I pulled up our anchors.  The second anchor I had put down had never dug in; our Bruce anchor had held us fast through the highest winds we had ever experienced.

A more typical traveling day for us usually finds Belinda and I getting underway around first light, generally 6:00 a.m. or a little before.    We will already have decided on   a set destination, usually 40 to 60 miles away.  Depending on wind (for motorsailing), currents, and tides and restricted bridge openings, this usually represents 7 to 12 hours of traveling.   We are not alone, however, and we see the same boats time and time again, waving to them while underway and speaking with them when we get the chance at anchorages or marinas,

Day by day the miles tick over on the log  (a boat odometer) and the beautiful and historic Atlantic settlements are visited by hiking, 1-horse drawn carriages, or tour buses.  We saw Beaufort (Bew fort), S.C. (mile 535) where the confederate secession papers were signed and much of  'Forest Gump' was filmed.  Charleston, S.C. (mile 470) home of Fort Sumter and across the bay from Mt. Pleasant, S.C.  Georgetown, S.C. (mile 403) where we watched a Holly Dunn country music video being filmed  (and I worked on the 9.9 outboard).  Beaufort (BC) fort), N.C. (mile 205) where we toured the maritime museum and watched the wild horses on the nearby islands.  At the Carolina Beach State Park we day hiked the nearby trails to view Venus Flytraps, native vegetation only in this area.  Albemarle Sound (mile 70) was one of the largest bodies of water to cross, which we did on Sean's 14th birthday, June 1.

Great Bridge Station, where we are now, lies only a dozen miles south of Norfolk, the end of our first leg.   We are now in the process of studying the charts and cruising guides for leg 2 of our return journey.   We anticipate being back in the familiar Canadian North Channel sometime in July and home to Mt. Pleasant in early August.

Northward,

The crew of the JABBERWOCKY,

Mike, Belinda, Sean and Maggie.

[Continued]