The below is a comprehensive visual explanation of the Albemarle / Pamlico Sound (located on the North Carolina coast). When we were Southbound (red route) from Norfolk, VA we chose to take the slightly shorter, shallower, more beautiful route (in my opinion) – The Dismal Swamp and stopped in Elizabeth City, NC. We continued our ICW deviation by skirting the shallow inner banks to Roanoke Island and around to Stumpy Point and then down to the historic pirate-y island of Ocracoke (one of my favorite stops).

When we were making our way back up, Northbound, we stayed true to the ICW passage (blue route). Maybe we were tired of traveling but it was just buggy and hot motoring up the Pugo and Alligator Rivers. It wasn’t particularly memorable. In those 4 anchorages only once did we have a sailing neighbor on anchor. Aside from the frequent visits of dolphins, the highlights of this stretch were spotting two American Eagles. One was a mature bald eagle, the other was a brown juvenile bald eagle, as it had not gained the token white head and tail feathers.

For most of our tour, the wind was a pesky 5 knots from the stern, which relays to zero apparent wind. When the wind died completely, it made for a very idyllic ICW ride.

We also had two Apache helicopters fly over. And watched two F15 Eagles and two F18 Hornets perform drills overhead. You could hear the jet engines scorching the sky but it took forever to spot the two specs in the sky and once you did, it was phenomenal to see them approach until poof they were gone again, past your field of vision. They flew “in proximity” to our sailboat twice, whilst we cruised along at a tortoise speed. I stood on the bow and waved my arms in the air and we both ‘wooped n hollered’ as they swooped near us. That alone gave us both a thrill that made the days heat and slow progress worth it.

In certain areas we experienced hellish green head flies that would dive-bomb buzz your face then bite the back of your leg. We learned the most important thing on the ICW (in summer) is a good fly swatter. Or …. our newest favorite living thing on Earth…. dragonflies. At one point Mike swatted two flies from his arm. Only tackling one to the ground, the other continued to gnaw at his leg. Before he could shake it off a dragonfly swooped in eating both flies. The dragonflies have these tiny talons that will stick your skin uncomfortably but we didn’t mind so much when they landed on us anymore. These guys could hitch a ride whenever they wanted for however long.

Yes, leaving the Caribbean-blue behind and landing in Florida was a momentous occasion but anchoring in the very anchorage we embarked from on our first blue water sail together brought a whole slew of new thoughts and feelings of accomplishment. I couldn’t help but reflect on our journey.

We left these shores with little expectations except to get to Bermuda then start the Caribbean as far East as possible. We had prepared and stocked our boat to the best of our abilities. We had gizmos and gadgets that worked (maybe not so much towards the end). We had emergency plans. We had us and Gaia. And so we sailed with the unknown ahead and a knowledge that it could…/probably/would get rocky…. (yes, the below is me…. less than happy)

After sailing THOUSANDS of miles (that’s multiple amounts of 1,000!) for 10 months we made a full circle. We were proud. We had overcome adverse circumstances, fears, really big waves, sea serpents, trifling rainbows, unruly groups of friends (as pictured to the right), and wild and untamed fresh fruit from the Leeward & Windward Islands!  Good Grief!

People told us we were brave… but you don’t feel brave when you’re three days out at sea, it’s 2300, and you poke your head out of the companion way hatch to see black walls of water on either side of you and a dark grey sky. You feel small and alone. And once you remember how overbuilt the boat is and how much preparation went into this journey… you smile for a weary second and think ‘Cool!’ before the motion of the boat whirls you around and your aching muscles remind you how sick and tired you are of this.

We had so many memories now – good bad and funny (see above picture) and they weren’t without cost. Over the years, we gave up countless weekends working to the midnight hour at times. We gave up comforts of living on land, we gave up having a savings account, heck, we gave up our jobs to pursue this agenda of life. And we were blessed to have friends help us along over the years. It was an entire community who encouraged and inspired us; who worked on Gaia with us and toyed around the Boston harbor with us. Even our families didn’t fight our love of the ocean but gave us warm hugs and wished us well… (for the most part…I’m looking at you Dad! – but you did come around).

Yes, when the anchor was well-driven into the muddy bed in Beaufort, NC, I took in the surroundings with a new perspective and it was great.

Once we had our moment of, “we’re back”, we opened up beers, jumped into the dinghy, and dinghy-ed over to a floating concert. Near a sandbar, a dozen poorly-anchored motor boats clustered  around a stationary barge with a full reggae band playing. A bud light gripped tightly in every hand, drunken girls yelling about pointless things, grown men with beer bellies talking about fishing or doing backflips off transoms, and a goofy smile on everyones face – it was a beautiful summer day in Beaufort, NC.

11 July 2016 marked our one year anniversary as a married couple. We spent the day perusing local shops, eating at Clawsons, and settling down in a coffee shop to get wifi. We made a reservation at a nice restaurant on the water then returned to our boat to write our vows….

It may seem a bit late to write vows one year after the fact…. for some people… but for us it was just right. The night before our wedding day we were both tired and realized neither of us had taken the time to sit down and write out some heartfelt promises. So we jointly decided to punt on it… and in the ceremony we honored the traditional Lutheran liturgy and recited a version of what my parents and my parents’ parents vowed on their wedding days. I also found out the first year anniversary should be commemorated with paper… (seems odd to me… considering the properties of paper and its ability to be torn in half or easily tossed into the trash) but we bought a pad of sketch paper and wrote our vows of marriage on that paper, thereby keeping that silly tradition alive for us.

Our late night dinghy ride back to the boat. Dolled up and all, I can still operate the dink and climb my transom.

The great Intracoastal Waterway, serene, beautiful, idyllic. Just mind the gun fire. Camp LeJeune is a Marine Corps training base located on the edge of the ICW in North Carolina and from time to time holds target practice… alarmingly close to the ICW. So alarmingly close, I grabbed a few shots of the targets. The exterior had thousands of indentations giving the metal a rough swiss cheese appearance. We cruised on by with no problem but if the lights are flashing, cruisers are not permitted to continue towards the firing range.

Mike and I stopped in the adorable town of Swansboro and tried alligator bites for the first time. It kinda tasted like calamari. Apparently eating alligator is no big deal in North Carolina. The gentleman next to us gave us an elaborate explanation of the culture of fishing and hunting. We grabbed ice cream and strolled through the entire downtown area (Main Street). We returned to the boat and enjoyed downtime sitting out in the cockpit. But with our leisure time we endured the town bar expel some odious sounding tunes.

Night fell and we watched a few lightening cloud clusters move near our anchorage. One of those storms hit us dead on and the boat healed over in the booming gusts. The current was pushing the boat perpendicular to the wind and it felt like a bad game of tug of war between the wind and the current. We anchored close to a shallow sandbar and amongst all the surfing back and forth, we ended up going aground in a 4.7 ft patch of sand. Mike and I begrudgingly pulled on our foul weather gear and went above deck to re-anchor in the 20+ knots of wind and the rain and infrequent flashes of lightening. Well… at least the bad music went inside and was one less nuisance to handle. After multiple attempts to set the anchor, I backed down and finally saw an OK sign from Mike and also concluded we weren’t dragging or in any danger of swaying into shallows, lobster pots, or channel markers.

Along our passage we saw temperatures reach well into the hundreds. The person off duty would sit under a fan in the salon (on the couches) and read, write, or, if you’re Mike, code. Every once in a while it was polite (aka humane) to pop your head up and ask if the helmsman needed a drink with an ice cube in it.

One morning after breakfast and coffee, I had the first watch starting at 9:30 AM. I felt fine and was steering by hand. We had just made the umpteenth turn of the morning and were set for a wide-open straight away (finally! I could put on Otto VonPilot and relax).

But it happened all very suddenly.

I felt something I had never felt before… my knee gave a slight involuntary jerk. It was very subtle but felt awkward enough for me to glance down. In the time it took to look back up, the blue water in front and yellow grass horizon to the side no longer existed, instead I saw nothing but blurry stars. My vision had completely given way. And that’s when my knees felt like jelly. It was unsettling to feel your body simply fail you. I saw nothing but blackness and felt myself begin to drop against my will. A second later I was crumbled on top of the seat cushions to my left. Half of my body on the floor of the cockpit and my upper torso neatly folded on top of the cushions; my right hand was still precariously on the helm. I yelled for Mike immediately and instantaneously he appeared at my side. My vision was still blurry and I was dizzy. I felt weak. Not tired or sweaty or achey just weak as if I had been fighting a cold for weeks on end. I knew enough to put my head between my knees and breathe deeply. Meanwhile Mike throttled back and took over steering.

This experience brought to attention the need of safety in a form I had never considered; the importance and responsibility to keep yourself healthy. So often, captains focus on safety of passengers & crew, weather, the performance of the boat, safety features… What about keeping yourself hydrated and well fed? If the captain fails to be lucid, is there another person on board? Are they trained well enough to perform simple operations (like throttling back and hailing help)? Thankfully Mike knew what to do. Thankfully Mike heard me when I yelled for him. I don’t know what would have happened if he had his noise canceling head phones on and was unable to hear my call for help. Maybe I would have risen to the challenge by standing up and throttling back… maybe… but maybe… I wouldn’t have been able to regain my composure…

Along our travels Mike and I learned a nonverbal communication for various situations, the most important being that look of when to leave a boring party. No, not really, (we still stink at that signal) more like anchoring. One of our tools, if motoring, is to throttle back. The sound of the engine is a bit loud on Gaia and if I were to throttle back it would signal to Mike, I wanted his attention on deck. Most of the time, it was to slow down for some motor vessels wake or to allow someone to pass… but that was infrequent.

After I regained composure I went down below. Once I was awake enough, I did what any sane kid does… I googled ‘fainting’. And the first thing that popped up on the google search was something called ‘fainting goats’ which ended up being a set of youtube videos of, you guessed it, goats keeling over and fainting… it was oddly adorable. But after I learned of fainting goats, I learned what happened to me was called Vasovagal syncope – Fainting due to lack of blood flow to the brain; usually brought on by standing for long periods of time, heat, or standing up too quickly. Once you experience fainting, you become more susceptible to it. If you’re fit and in good health and you faint more than twice in a month… you should see a doctor… it might indicate a larger risk at hand. Just to be clear I am in no way a doctor. This is simple information gained from googling ‘fainting’.

From Charleston, SC we spent the next few days motoring up the ICW. Each day we progressed northbound by 8.5 hours, varying between 6-8 knots depending on the current. We chose to be aggressive in our motoring up the ICW for two reasons. One, we felt our journey was due to come to a close and our careers (possibly) overdue to be reignited. Two, it was damn hot.

We motored to Winyah Bay, Cat Island on towards Calabash Creek. The ICW wound its way to and fro snaking a wide blue passage amongst a thicket of tall old trees. It was beautiful and amongst the trees or flat plains. We spotted osprey at every turn and a few alligators lurking on the banks. To keep sane we would switch on and off every 3-4 hours. The person on deck would steer by hand or use Otto VonPilot, correcting every minute or so to center the boat in the channel and monitoring the depths. This gave us a lot of time to meditate and clear our thoughts or listen alongside podcasts and receive news updates that were days old by the time we heard them.

We motored past the Brookgreen Gardens area, which was beautiful. We visited the old plantation with my parents during Thanksgiving and felt motivated to continue northbound instead of another day stop. But I will say, the Brookgreen Garden is a beautiful stop and well worth it.

{Surrounded by seaside homes, quant streets, small skiffs, a few keel boats, and (the annoying buzz & wakes of) jet skies in Wrightsville – we sat in the cockpit and read prior reviews of the anchorage. One review wrote a scathing note of local boaters and the extent of their inconsideration to us anchored transients…. it started with… ‘Where maritime law goes to die’… As a fellow (self-proclaimed) melodramatist…. I enjoyed his starting line and concur…. Damn jet skies and small motor vessels!}

Every morning we’d start the kettle to make coffee, check the weather, then open up the iPad to consult ‘Active Captain’. Our dependence and use of Active Captain on our garmin charts is akin to that of the Federal Reserve using monetary policy; it was the ying to our yang, the other pea in the pod.

I say this because Active Captain is crucial to our trip planning, it’s a set of interactive charts that has community-sourced information. Meaning each user is able to update the chart with reviews on marina facilities, anchorages, hazards, and other useful information. You can plot courses and measure distances to weigh points. You can zoom in and out of locations to view safe and quiet anchorages that might appeal to you… or maybe want to avoid. Heavily traveled areas, like the ICW, make for heavily reviewed destinations. Charleston, SC, for instance, had many reviews for the public anchorage and all non-too enticing.

Things Charleston is wonderful for: porches, eating out…  Things Charleston is not wonderful for: clearing old sunken ships and their anchors,  fourth of July fireworks…

There are two parts to the anchorage, one area is riddled with mooring balls which I find to be annoying (the mooring balls tend to be placed at awkwardly far distances which, crowds out all the good free places to anchor). The second area has several submerged ships and forgotten anchor chains just waiting to become entangled in your own anchor rode. A number of reviews complained of having to call a diver to come out and untangle their own chain free from the depths. It’s a fairly deep anchorage and strong current… meaning you need more chain (more swing room) to ensure you don’t drag at peak ebb/flood current. But at the end of the day, we said f%ck it. Down with the anchor and come time to pull our manson supreme (that’s the type of anchor) back up from the bottom… we’ll deal with whatever comes…

We stayed in Charleston for the fourth of July and enjoyed dinghy-ing to shore to walk into town just to peruse the town and stay in over-air conditioned coffee shops. We both agree, Charleston is down right beautiful and slightly reminiscent of Boston (in other aspects…). While in Charleston, we barely survived the heat but learned two very important things. Southerners are a proud folk and as sweet as honey.

Secondly, the 4th of July show is none too impressive in Charleston….

Being an avid lover of fireworks, we made a plan to see the 4th of July fireworks here. Unfortunately for SC, we are from Boston, which means the ‘fireworks show’ bar is set pretty high. We asked a few locals where the best view of the show could be found. All 3 people shrugged their shoulders replying with an earnest ‘I’ve never gone to see the show’. BUT BUT BUT then what do you people DO if you don’t go to see the fireworks…. The fireworks barge was set out in the middle of the harbor. We scoped out the waterfront and found a few good places to view.

As night fell, we eventually walked to the edge of a long pier overcrowded with an odd mix of families with small children and inebriated college kids. The sun was now below the horizon and we could see other fireworks displays far in the horizon from other county shows. Everyone stood making small talk… we stood and waited… and waited… and looked at our watches and waited…. and I became agitated. Come on Charleston…. the show must go on… this can’t be your first rodeo let’s get this rolling… for crying out loud the toddlers are on the brink of a fitful rebellion. Finally about 3/4 of a mile away a few flares jettisoned into the sky and exploded… a polite clap reverberated through the crowd and dismally quieted to silence…… it was silent…. Hundreds of people, crowded arm to arm on this pier and it was silent…. I tell you the only person that could truly enjoy a quieted massive crowd is an elementary school educator. Firework after firework flew up into the sky making a beautiful bouquet of color… but there was hardly a boom to be heard. Where was the explosion you could feel in the depths of your stomach, where was the energetic patriotic music, where was the…. laughter and smiles…. it’s as if the grinch came out of hibernation and decided to steal 4th of July this year.

Well, they performed their show and now we know… you don’t go to the Charleston 4th of July fireworks show in Charleston. We (all) watched in silence… and it was only interrupted by drunken college kids who decided to rally the crowd in good spirits…. it worked…. for a bit but apparently not everyone was as easily moved to loud jovial roars quite like a 19 year old kid with a hidden flask of Jameson. The show ended with an onslaught of awe-inspiring fireworks displays that brought the crowd to cheer. The last 5 minutes was wonderful… and the moment it ended Mike and I had elevated anticipations of a wonderful night out on the town. It was our duty to find a proper Southern cocktail. And we did just that. We found a bar that made Mike’s Old Fashion. As for me, I chose to let the bartender surprise me. He asked for a kind of alcohol and a few adjectives then asked if there’s any particular taste I dislike. And that was all. He returned with a fragrant gin cocktail, chilled perfectly slightly sweet and made for a perfect evening.

The next morning, we raised our anchor slowly. We were very aware of our chances of being stuck on some old anchor. And with every foot of chain we hauled in, we were that much closer to freedom…. I was at the helm and I could see we were zero-ing in on our dropped anchor…. before I could see anything I heard Mike give a hoot and a holler ‘We’re Up!’ And that’s when I knew the sea Gods had smiled kindly upon our humble transient home this time.

From South Carolina, we moved up the ICW eager to make progress to the promising cooler temperatures of New England but for that… we would need to endure a week long heat wave. ….

We left St. Mary’s inlet in GA and had a nice current helping us along. 

We departed Cumberland Island at 10:00 AM and started off at a strong 9 knots from the inlet. The wind was lighter than expected so we motored/motorsailed most of the day. Then a string of storms began chasing us.

Furled in the sails and waited for this little ‘white out’ to catch up. This is the view directly behind us….

And the view directly in front of us….

This is the second round of storms; not particularly scary. This brought winds up to 25 knots

At least we had a beautiful sunset. Mike was down below cooking.

During our night watches, we could make out large storm clouds passing around us. On my 1 AM – 5 AM shift I felt the winds pick up and a torrential downpour hit. For the umpteenth time I hid my chin under the fuzzy collar and internally thanked Mike for buying me a new set of foulies before we left Boston in 2015. The waves were rocking the boat at an uncomfortable angle. After slipping a few times and having a hell of time jibing, I called Mike up for another set of hands and as encouragement. After experiencing the lightening back in Georgia, I hit my ‘sailing wall’. I knew where I drew the line and that was at lightening storms. It was only raining at that moment but I still felt rattled and insecure, knowing that lightening could strike at any moment. It was pitch black and all I could see were the running lights on cargo ships coming in to port and black masses of clouds that moved in giant herds overhead. I was on my feet for my entire watch. I was so relieved to see Mike appear on deck early and say ‘tag’, our term for ‘okay, I’ll take over now, you’re watch is over’.

Mike must have downed an entire pot of coffee because he took over from 5 AM until we anchored in Charleston. It was fun coming into the harbor… oddly, there were a lot of similarities between Charleston and Boston…

Ecuador’s 3 masted Barque Guayas

Cumberland Island….is a hidden gem, still unbeknownst to the masses. And that’s a good thing.

As a self proclaimed melodramatic curious wanderer interested in history…. upon first sight, this place ensnared that child-like wonder in me. You’re first view of Cumberland Island is overgrown webs of Spanish moss which carpet the overarching limbs of giant oak trees. (Side Note: Super fun fact about Spanish moss… it’s not moss! *gasp* I know! if you’re as over-caffeinated as I am right now, you too are egregiously concerned about this deception…. it’s not moss it’s a bromeliad which makes it closer in taxonomy to the pineapple and succulent families.*you’re welcome*). Light trickles through the canopy of Spanish moss as timid mammals scurry under the protection of

endless green ferns and in the midst of this welcoming forrest are neatly carved walking paths…. but mind the horse poop. If you walk from one end to another you’ll stumble across vastly changing environments ranging from an endless salt marsh, to sand dunes that best resemble a heard of oversized camel humps, and one hell of an expansive beach. And the clincher that really made me love this island, is the crumbling ruins of a mansion and traces of personal stories left to decay in the elements and history books.

Cumberland Island was first inhabited by native americans, the Mocama people. The Spanish arrived in the 1550s and built a settlement on the island and they named the island San Pedro. Historical records show in 1681 there were as many as 300 Mocama and Spanish missionaries living on San Pedro. In 1683 French pirates looted the island and the following years were nothing but pirate skirmishes between the French and Spanish. In 1733 English General James Oglethorpe of Georgia arrived in on the scene and the island was renamed Cumberland Island. Oglethorpe built a hunting lodge on the island and named in Dungeness. Two forts were erected on the island and a small town came to fruition. Over the years, the forts and towns were abandoned and washed away in time. Revolutionary war hero Nathaniel Greene and his wife Catharine lived on the island until Nathaniel’s death in 1786. Ten years after Nathaniel’s death, Catharine remarried Phineas Miller and built a 4 story tabby mansion complete with 4 chimneys
and 16 fireplaces. Catharine named the mansion Dungeness, after Oglethorpe’s hunting lodge. Further in the life of Cumberland Island, Thomas Carnegie, brother of Andrew Carnegie, brought his wife and 9 children to live on the island. The family moved out in 1925. And in 1959 a fire destroyed Dungeness.

The island was a great stop. We were excited to see a submarine skulk by up the ICW and soon after have a refreshing storm pass over while we safely remained on the hook. Mike and I enjoyed Cumberland Island but in the end we decided…. The South is too hot for us northerners in July… we soon left for Charleston, SC.