We had a great departure from Charleston at 6:30am, enjoying the multitude of dolphins dancing along beside the boat. We spent the early morning hours listening to the local shrimp fishermen laughing about all the southbound sailboats - one remarked (in the local patois as far as I was able to make out) that his wife would push him overboard if he tried to make a heading to Florida waters! - he still sounded dreamy thinking about heading south himself, though. The shrimp boats are quite something - I took plenty of photos - puts me in mind of Forest Gump and his money-making Bubba Gump Shrimp business.
In the morning, just as we were putting up the mainsail - with Blair on deck untying the lines, and me at the wheel feeling pretty confident - there was a "may day" distress call. A local fisherman lost his engine and his boat was drifting into the rocks in the jetty near the Wappoo Creek. Despite my confidence at the wheel mere seconds earlier, the anxiety of the fisherman and the questioning by the coast guard scared the wits out of me, leaving me feeling pretty rattled! In the end, another boat managed to pull the distressed fisherman off the rocks so that he could drop his anchor top wait for his friend's arrival. As the coast guard continued to question him (about everything except the colour of his eyes!), he had completely regained his cool...he thanked the coast guard for the help and commented that he would be busy/unavailable to answer any more questions as he would be busy fishing off his boat until his friend arrived to tow him ashore. The first crisis of the day had been averted successfully!
By noon, Blair began testing the autopilot - rather than setting it to a compass heading, he programmed it to a way point. Much to our surprise, it held a heading for an hours. We had a quick conference, did some calculations with respect to time wasted going in and out of inlets as opposed to making a straight run for Fernandina Beach, Florida. We figured that with light wind conditions (that we were experiencing), we both felt rested enough to handle a straight passage rather than stopping at Tybee Roads or Hilton Head. Andy and Isabella on Southern Cross IV were elated with our proposal to make a direct run...so we all quickly altered our course headings for Florida. Of course, no sooner had we made the commitment to go straight through then the autopilot mechanism fell off again. No problem (we figured), we would just reset it continuously and deal with it for this leg of the trip. Even if it held for 30 minutes at a time, that would be more than fine. Weeeellllll, that was not to be. It seemed that no matter what we did, the crazy system would not hold a heading. YIKES! - another conference and we decided that we would stay the course behind Andy and Isabella if they were willing to act as a beacon at night with their mastlight. Once again, Blair gave them an option to move on without us, but they insisted on staying together, even though it meant that we were hampering their speed. Blair and I felt that we could handle two hour shifts at the helm. As the day wore on, I glanced over to see Blair madly scribbling mathematical calculations in his notebook. He became convinced that we would not have enough fuel to sustain us on the trip to Florida. "That's it," he said, "we can't go forward - with no autopilot, we just can't afford to risk running out of fuel." If I haven't already mentioned, I was already beginning to feel somewhat apprehensive about the decision to go forward with our plans. Now I was feeling absolutely terrified. Now, Blair will always err on the side of caution, but even so, I had watched him scribble his calculations for the better part of an hour. And I did not want to be adrift very little wind AND no fuel. So, once again (groan..), we radioed Andy to break the news that we would NOT be making this reckless passage with them. And once again, Andy peeled Blair off the ceiling with promises to abandon the trip in Brunswick, Georgia if necessary - and, absolutely worst case scenario, Andy plodded him along by promising to launch his own dinghy and send his extra gallons of fuel over to our boat should we run out. Try to get a visual of this possibility: our Morgan 462 bobbing in the Atlantic Ocean without fuel with light winds but some swells trying to lasso a dinghy laden with jugs of fuel. It seemed like something of a bizarre plan to me, but it was enough to convince Blair - and we carried on.
Blair and I were takings turns at the wheel - an hour at a time. It is hard work and my upper right shoulder is burning with the strain. Blair's neck is burning with pain for him. But still we press on - and as we pass Tybee Roads, we both wonder how wise our decision was. By the time the sun sinks below the horizon, we switch on all the running lights and the masthead light (minus the missing starboard light at the bow...thank you Bald Head Marina), and Southern Cross IV does the same. I go below to the galley to organize dinner - the last of the stew - and we finish it up just as the swells begin to pick up (although the winds are light). We fall into an easy hour on/hour off rhythm, until Blair begins to feel sorry for me and offers to do two hours shifts to my one. I am just fine with this - and Blair must sense my terror - especially as we listen to the coast guard issuing a "pan pan: pan pan: a distress call from an unidentified boat..." Would that be us if we weren't careful...you better believe it could be! I review in my mind the man overboard procedures and start to scare myself as I begin wondering whether I could get cushions and the life rings into the water fast enough to save Blair as he falls off the boat....potentially falling overboard from the deck of the boat messing about with the mainsail. I know that I need to stop thinking like this, but it would sure be a lot easier if the coast guard would stop scaring the wits out of me!
I finish my last sail watch and steering duty at 2am - thank god! By 3am, the ocean is so rolly that I am having a difficult time hanging on to the side of the boat - and I start praying for this trip to end. Poor Blair is exhausted, but we manage to get the sails down just outside the Harbour into Fernandina Beach, Florida...and surprise, surprise...Rum Line II (Gary and Lina Gratton) are hailing us on the radio from the fuel dock inside the Harbour. It will be fun to catch up with them once we are all rested. So it is the three Canadian boats tied to the concrete dock in Fernandina Harbour Marina...safe at last and warm!
Some interesting facts about Fernandina Beach, Florida:
Fernandina Beach is Florida's northernmost city and is on Amelia Island east of the ICW. Discovered in 1562 by the French explorer Jean Ribault, who named it Isle de Mai, the Spanish settled the island in 1567. They renamed it Santa Maria, established a mission and built Fort San Fernandino. In 1702, the British captured the island and gave it the name that finally stuck: Amelia, in honour of King George II's daughter. Amelia Island has enjoyed a colourful history. In its earlier years, pirates and smugglers used it as their stronghold, and during Prohibition, rum runners continued the tradition. Eight different flags have flown over Amelia Island, among them the standard of the conquistadors and the French Huguenots, the British Union Jack, and the Stars and Bars of the Confederacy. The island is the only place in the United States to have been claimed by so many governments.
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