Month: March 2026

Colonial Beach—only 110 miles away from our current spot at Atlantic Yacht Basin. Yahoo.

Working towards Colonial Beach

We slipped out of Beaufort early, aiming for Belhaven. The plan was to anchor in Belhaven Harbor, but when we arrived the wind had kicked up and the idea of rocking and rolling all night lost its charm fast. Instead, we eased into Belhaven Marina and ended up having a great evening catching up with old friends—the marina owner among them—and sharing end‑of‑day drinks with a few fellow boaters. Dinner in town, however, was a swing and a miss. You can’t win them all, and we’ll chalk that one up to experience. A better meal awaits somewhere up the waterway.

What’s Our Plan — Revised
The real debate that night was whether to push on to Coinjock or sit tight and wait out the weather brewing ahead. By the morning of the 26th, Carey and I decided to go for it. The forecast along the East Coast wasn’t exactly friendly, but we also needed to keep making our way home. So at 8:30 AM we pointed the bow north and began the 85‑mile run to Coinjock.
It turned out to be the right call. The weather held, the miles slipped by, and by 5 PM we were tied up quietly in Coinjock—surprisingly the only transient boat there, a rare sight for such a normally busy stop. The next decision loomed: a gale and small‑craft warning were settling in for the coming days. We figured we’d decide after dinner… and what a dinner. Coinjock handed us two fantastic meals, easily the best of the trip so far.
Up early on the 27th, ready to make the day’s call. I walked up to the marina office where everyone was buzzing about the expected gale. The consensus was unanimous: if it arrived at all, it wouldn’t be until after 5 PM. That was all we needed to hear. Start the engines—we’re going.
The 38‑mile run from Coinjock to Atlantic Yacht Basin was exactly the stepping‑stone we needed before Norfolk and the final push toward home. We made the trip in just under four hours and are now moored in Chesapeake, VA.

Unfortunately, a quick check with a mechanic revealed that the port engine’s raw water pump—a gear driven pump lubricated by oil—has a leaking seal. Ouch. No replacement pump readily available and we initially decided to continue on and watch the pump carefully. Cooler heads prevailed this morning the 28th. That pump freezing up could cause damage to the engine. We are not going to risk that event. We are retired and low risk boaters. We’ve now decided to wait here and get the pump replaced before heading to Colonial Beach. So, we must now suffer through more good meals eating out, and some relaxing down time for other activities. Not bad.

For now, we’re watching the weather closely and will move toward CB as soon as the pump is replaced and the weather allows. One thing is clear: becoming a true expert on weather—and having the right resources—has climbed to the top of the list for anyone boating in this time of climate change. Weather is so much more important to our boating pleasure during climate change. A downer though … we’re bringing along unhealthy amounts of devilish yellow oak pollen! It started in South Carolina and keeps floats around up the East Coast.

Below is just one example of the many commercial vessels we share the ICW with on days like this.

314 Stature Miles to Colonial Beach from Beaufort, NC. … getting near home

Two Long Days to Beaufort, NC
We really pushed it this weekend—71 miles on Saturday to reach Wrightsville Beach, the first of two long hauls so we could enjoy a well‑earned two‑day layover in Beaufort, NC. With perfect Saturday weather, the ICW was packed. Every kind of boat was out, and it felt like we were threading a moving obstacle course.
Despite the crowds, we cruised smoothly through three of the ICW’s usual troublemakers—Lockwood’s Folly, Shallotte Inlet, and Carolina Beach—all notorious for shoaling and the dreaded bottom tap. No drama this time, and by 4 PM we were anchored at Wrightsville Beach. The anchorage was lively, to put it mildly. A full‑on Sunday‑Funday crowd kept us rocking until sunset, when the last of the day‑boaters finally peeled away and the water settled into something resembling calm.

Day Two: Wrightsville to Beaufort

We were up early the next morning, anchor up at 7:30 AM for the 85‑mile run to Beaufort. It’s a long, mostly uneventful stretch of the ICW—scenic in its own way but not exactly riveting—and the hours felt every bit as long as the mileage.
Midday we spotted our anchorage neighbor from the night before, but unfortunately not under the best circumstances. He had gone aground at the one shallow spot of the day, New River Inlet. Towboat US was already on the way, thankfully. We felt for him; grounding is never fun, and in skinny water there’s not much another boater can do. You really need a shallow‑draft tow boat to get in close enough to help. We pulled in to Beaufort and moorded safely at 5:00 PM. Later we found that the aground boat got off with minimal damage and safely moored at Beaufort at few docks down from us several hours after our arrival. Good news!

Day Two at Beaufort

We slept late today catching up on some needed sleep. And boy was it cold. The wind was blowing 15 + knots and the temperatures were in the mid 40s. I’m glad we are not out on the water. We used the courtesy car, had a great Italian lunch and Carey picked up some liquor and food at the ABC store and Food Line. We’re ready for the next push. This evening we had neighbors from a nearby sailboat over for drinks, Mike and Lonnie. There are sailing on a Caribbean Sailing Yacht 44′ that they have restored. Mike told the story of its initial purchase and hauling out at Colonia Beach in 2008 or 9 when they put it on a carrier to their home in Ohio to restore and make it ready for the water. Now it sat right next to us and is a beautiful site to see.

A few things stood out over these two long days:

• We saw our first—and so far only—political sign of the trip. Last year they were everywhere. This one was just three words: Dictator or Democracy?
• A guy wearing an M.R. Ducks t‑shirt caught our eye—a favorite waterfront bar in Ocean City, MD and a spot dear to our friends Jack and Ann Southard. Turns out he’s an OC native and a regular there.
• We passed home after home with docks stretching far into the ICW, long enough to reach deep water. Some of these must have cost a small fortune. One in particular was impressive enough to deserve a photo.
• A small fleet of shrimp boats getting ready to work the waterway as we passed—shrimp, anyone.
• And finally, as we arrived in Beaufort, we spotted a Tiki boat just like the one back in Colonial Beach, happily plying its trade here too.

Steamboat Creek to Price Creek
Steamboat Creek bade us farewell, and off we went toward Price Creek—another one of those 45‑mile days we’ve been stringing together—this time through Charleston Harbor. Even though I lived in Charleston for four years, I’ve never been fond of stopping in the harbor, so we kept our eyes forward and cruised right past the big municipal marina. Two massive container ships were working their way through the channel as we crossed, and it was a treat to watch them glide by—at a very safe distance, of course. Once clear of Isle of Palms, we turned toward Price Creek and dropped the hook in what can only be described as serious wind. It was the first anchorage Carey and I have ever done that didn’t end with smiles. The wind and current teamed up on us, pushing our limits more than we expected after hundreds of trouble‑free anchoring’s. But persistence won out, and eventually we settled the boat safely for the night. That glass of wine was well earned.

Onward to Georgetown
Morning brought fresh smiles and a fresh start. We pointed the bow north for another 45‑mile run to Georgetown, SC—and to one of our favorite restaurants, SOCO. It’s southern cooking at its best, served by waitresses with warm smiles and even warmer accents. The day itself was easy: gorgeous weather, calm water, and a relaxed pace. We reached Harbor Walk Marina mid‑afternoon, took a little time to unwind, and then headed to SOCO. I went straight for the fried pork chop; Carey ordered her beloved fried oysters. Just good, honest southern food. A slow walk back to the boat wrapped up the evening and set us up for another day on the water. Found Georgetown over 21 years ago and it’s still one of our favorite stops and marinas. Entire downtown is a historic landmark, and the surrounding homes are stately and lovely. Well worth a trip by land or water.

Waccamaw River to Barefoot Marina
Saturday morning brought a parade of boats—perfect weather and a weekend will do that. We motored up the Waccamaw River, which remains one of the most beautiful stretches of the entire ICW. Towering cypress, quiet bends, and that peaceful, timeless feel you only get on this part of the waterway. Halfway to Barefoot Marina we stopped at Osprey Marina to fill up with diesel. Their prices were still pre-Trump War at $3.59/gal. All other marinas nearby were above $4.50. I filled to the top of our 600-gallon tanks — enough to get us home to Colonial Beach. Yahoo! By mid-afternoon we were tied up at Barefoot Marina in North Myrtle Beach. The young dockhand is from Occoquan and has spent many a weekend in Colonial Beach. Love when that happens. Tomorrow will be a tougher day, but that’s a story for tomorrow.

Today’s Photos
Just the big boys we passed in Charleston Harbor—those container ships that remind you why the law of gross tonnage is not to be trifled with.

Riding Out Weather and Chasing a Window North
We pulled anchor at Duplin and set our sights on a sixty‑mile run to the Herb River anchorage. The day unfolded quietly and beautifully—Georgia’s waterway winding mile after mile through more than 368,000 acres of coastal marshland, one of the East Coast’s most important wetland ecosystems. It’s scenery that makes you ease back on the throttles and just let the boat glide.
As we made our way north, the weather forecast kept tightening. A strong system was expected overnight, bringing damaging winds and heavy rain. First came a small‑craft advisory, then a gale warning. Herb River in Thunderbolt/Savannah is a known well‑protected anchorage, so we stayed with the plan, added extra chain and set up a watch schedule in case the storm arrived early or stronger than predicted.
In the end, the worst of the wind never hit us. The storm slowed down, and that opened a window. Instead of sitting and waiting for it, we decided to get ahead of it and make Beaufort, SC before the system caught up. By 7:30 the next morning we were underway, radar up—an invaluable tool when you’re trying to stay one step ahead of weather.
Most of the run was comfortable, but Port Royal Sound delivered a lively ten‑mile stretch. Three‑foot Atlantic swells met 20‑plus‑knot southerly winds pushing up 2–3‑foot whitecaps, creating confused seas. Not pleasant, but manageable, and soon enough we were turning the corner toward Beaufort. Everything calmed down, and we slid into Ladies Island Marina just after noon.
Two quiet days in one of our favorite towns felt like the perfect reward after the push north. That first night we ate at Dockside—our second‑favorite restaurant with the same name as our first‑favorite back in Colonial Beach. My swordfish steak was excellent, and Carey’s meal was just as good. Tuesday was a workday for her, with a little help from me. She made a grocery run to restock the boat and tackled the laundry. She loves boating, but laundry days are not high on her list of joys.

Continuing North
Turned in early and were up at first light to continue north. The plan was an easy forty‑mile day to Steamboat Creek, where we anchored with two other boats tucked in nearby. From there we’ll do the 45-minute cross of Charleston harbor on our way to the next anchorage above Isle of Palm, then onto our favorite stop .., Georgetown S.C. for a 1-night stay. Still taking it slow, steady, and relaxed—just the way this stretch of the ICW should be. However, we have a tight schedule to meet with a couple of upcoming events in April.

Pictures show a Georgia island home with access only by water, Dockside restaurant, over our stern to one anchored boat, and, finally, the Nordic tug off our port side that was our neighbor last night at Lady’s Island Marina in Beaufort. Nice day to relax at anchor. Meatloaf dinner tonight.

Northbound
Leaving Pine Island, we pointed the bow toward Fernandina Beach, FL — an easy 50‑mile hop under sunny skies and a perfect 70 degrees. Once tied up, we stretched our legs and grabbed dinner at a busy little spot across from the marina. The service was fast, the tacos… not so great. One of the few misses of the whole trip. A quiet glass of wine back aboard fixed the mood, and we turned in early. We’ve stopped here many times in the past, so we had opted not to do a walk-around.
Into Georgia and a Little Engine TLC
Our next stop was Brunswick Landing Marina in Brunswick, GA — our first step out of Florida and the place we’d planned for engine service. We’d logged 200 hours since leaving Colonial Beach in November, so it was time for an oil change and a good look-over.
On Thursday the 12th, the mechanic — now our new friend Mark — climbed aboard and got to work. While checking the engines, he spotted some fine belt filings. Turned out the serpentine belt was the wrong length, and the tensioner was starting to weaken. Not what you want to hear, but better to find it here than in the middle of nowhere.
Parts came through quickly, and by early afternoon we had a proper‑length belt installed, a spare on board, and the tensioner behaving well enough to get us home. Oil change done, engines buttoned up, and all work wrapped by 1 PM. With everything squared away, we decided to shorten our stay from three nights to two and get moving again. BTW, we highly recommend the marina, as it has free laundry and sponsors happy hour every Monday, Wednesday and Friday with complimentary beer and wine.
A Tide‑Timed Run to Duplin River
We didn’t get underway Saturday until 11 AM — timing the Little Mud River for after 2 PM so we’d have enough water. At low tide there’s a notorious 4‑foot stretch that demands a rising tide to clear safely. The plan worked: we slipped through without issue and dropped the hook in the Duplin River by 4 PM.
Anchored in a quiet bend, Manhattans in hand, we settled in for the evening. The northbound leg is officially underway, and we’re aiming to make the trip home slow, careful, and fun — just the way it should be. Traveling thru Georgia is a series of winding rivers joining a series of sounds. Pleasant but a lot of the same wetlands scenery.