Wifey B: That connotation played a role in the name change.
Wifey B: And you were indoors in your office at the time that fog rolled into your brain.
I couldn't resist but you know I think the world of you. 
The Adventures of Sylphide
- Thread starter Wayfarer
- Start date
The friendliest place on the web for anyone who enjoys boating.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
If you have answers, please help by responding to the unanswered posts.
Wifey B: That connotation played a role in the name change.
Wifey B: And you were indoors in your office at the time that fog rolled into your brain.
I couldn't resist but you know I think the world of you.
OP
OP
Wayfarer
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This is what it looked like most of the time:
Just kidding, that's a picture of my ceiling.
With regards to dongs: After much deliberation, I have been unable to come up with a joke for this part of my post that I felt was worthy of this fine, upstanding community and it's decent, hard working people, and so have decided to withhold any comments on the issue until further notice.
BUT IMMA NEED TO GET ME SOME A THESE LITTLE NUGGETS, SHARPISH.
BruceK
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There`s an English version called a Penguin. Similar, walks oddly and 1cm longer than a Tim Tam. The original maker of the Tim Tam is Arnotts, they sold out to a US company, Campbells (I think), which takeover opponents branded "The Cookie Monster".
Great biscuits, esp. the "double coat". Can be milk or dark chocolate. Even with chili chocolate. Not that I know much about them....
Now the photo I added has disappeared, how does that happen, not the first time either. You`ll have to imagine 1cm longer, nothing to get excited about.
Great biscuits, esp. the "double coat". Can be milk or dark chocolate. Even with chili chocolate. Not that I know much about them....
Now the photo I added has disappeared, how does that happen, not the first time either. You`ll have to imagine 1cm longer, nothing to get excited about.
Last edited:
boathealer
Guru
Thank you, Dave. Another winner.
twistedtree
Guru
RT Firefly
Enigma
Greetings,
Tim Tams are the perfect thing to dunk in your tea in the morning. Much better than dunking in coffee IMO.
Mr. W. Just think how many members will be able to brag that they knew you in the pre-Pulitzer days.
Tim Tams are the perfect thing to dunk in your tea in the morning. Much better than dunking in coffee IMO.
Mr. W. Just think how many members will be able to brag that they knew you in the pre-Pulitzer days.
Last edited:
OP
OP
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Thanks guys
I may have a sampler pack in my amazon cart right now... oops.
Greetings,
Tim Tams are the perfect thing to dunk in your tea in the morning. Much better than dunking in coffee IMO.
Mr. W. Just think how many members will be able to brag that they knew you in the pre-Pulitzer days.
Don't forget all the Olympic medals coming my way! lol
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Come on Dave, we're dying here! Need our fix of humor. It's really irritating when your day job is getting in the way of our enjoyment in reading your posts! You really need to fix that problem, okay?
Need our fix of humor. It's really irritating when your day job is getting in the way of our enjoyment in reading your posts! You really need to fix that problem, okay?
Leatherneck
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Wifey B: Communicated with Dave and he's been working, working, and more working. Popular boy apparently. Let him know he's missed but when he returns might not have time for writing as a lot of cruising to make up and fun, fun, fun to be had.
OP
OP
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Hey gang
Sorry I've been MIA lately. I promise it's nothing you said! As Mrs. B said, this season at work has been... extra. My company doubled in size overnight, and they've been scrambling to fill all of the new positions. Aside from a brief covid holiday, where we all had to spend a week ashore sealed in individual ziplock bags, I haven't had any time off since the beginning of March. Thankfully that was a short break, and everyone is happy and healthy and back to work. My schedule will continue to be light on vacation time for the foreseeable future, so I don't expect to do any long distance cruising this year, unfortunately.
Sylphide is down in Brunswick, Georgia at the moment. I haven't seen her in about six weeks, and it'll probably be another six weeks before I do. Even then, I'll likely only be home for about two weeks. I'm not sure what my plans are at this point. I will have some extra income, and less time to spend it than usual, so it may be an ideal time for a small refit. I'll start another thread on the matter.
I have a lot of catching up to do with the blog. Much of my blogging energy over the last few months was directed toward fiddling with the new website that my sister and brother in law lovingly crafted for me. It's still not entirely finished, but it looks great, and I'm very happy with it. I know most of you read my entries here, but I also post at www.mvsylphide.com for non TF Members. Have a peek if you're bored
Thank you to all of you who called or messaged to check on me I really do appreciate it. All is well. I miss you.
Sorry I've been MIA lately. I promise it's nothing you said! As Mrs. B said, this season at work has been... extra. My company doubled in size overnight, and they've been scrambling to fill all of the new positions. Aside from a brief covid holiday, where we all had to spend a week ashore sealed in individual ziplock bags, I haven't had any time off since the beginning of March. Thankfully that was a short break, and everyone is happy and healthy and back to work. My schedule will continue to be light on vacation time for the foreseeable future, so I don't expect to do any long distance cruising this year, unfortunately.
Sylphide is down in Brunswick, Georgia at the moment. I haven't seen her in about six weeks, and it'll probably be another six weeks before I do. Even then, I'll likely only be home for about two weeks. I'm not sure what my plans are at this point. I will have some extra income, and less time to spend it than usual, so it may be an ideal time for a small refit. I'll start another thread on the matter.
I have a lot of catching up to do with the blog. Much of my blogging energy over the last few months was directed toward fiddling with the new website that my sister and brother in law lovingly crafted for me. It's still not entirely finished, but it looks great, and I'm very happy with it. I know most of you read my entries here, but I also post at www.mvsylphide.com for non TF Members. Have a peek if you're bored
Thank you to all of you who called or messaged to check on me
I really do appreciate it. All is well. I miss you.
rochepoint
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Great website Dave.........
rgano
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Hey gang
Sorry I've been MIA lately. I promise it's nothing you said! As Mrs. B said, this season at work has been... extra. My company doubled in size overnight, and they've been scrambling to fill all of the new positions. .
This could be the ideal time to be moving up the food chain, Dave. Are you licensed to move up? I sailed as "mate with master's license" with Tidewater, and they quickly offered to fill me in behind an unlimited tonnage master when he moved on or they expanded, whatever it was....
BruceK
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Glad to hear your career is going well,and busy! That`s the great contradiction, lots of work, little spare time, = income and savings you are too busy to spend. The time will come... meanwhile are there tax advantages building what we call a a Superannuation Fund, I think USA has a name for it, derived from legislation, is it 401K?
OP
OP
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It definitely is prime time to move up. I've been encouraging my first mate to get his skipper's ticket right quick. I'm already at the top of the heap, though. I caught a similar updraft back in 2016 when a bunch of the old guard of captains decided to become pilots, and the ink had just dried on my master's. It'll be five years in the big chair at the end of next month. Where does the time go?
That sounds right to me, but I'm a bit dumb when it comes to that sort of thing. I did increase the amount I'm setting aside recently though, which seems smart. I dunno. I dunno what I'm doing, lol.
RT Firefly
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rgano
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Why did I think you were a mate, Dave? Great you get the starboard chair (in the Navy the XO's chair is to port. Think I spent all of five minutes in mine when I was XO. So it would seem your next move upward is admiral. Do they have something like that in your company?
OP
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Why did I think you were a mate, Dave? Great you get the starboard chair (in the Navy the XO's chair is to port. Think I spent all of five minutes in mine when I was XO. So it would seem your next move upward is admiral. Do they have something like that in your company?
We do have something similar, but they couldn't afford to put me in that job. I wouldn't take it if they told me I'd get all my hair back, lol.
I've been trying to get a full and faithful replica of Captain Kirk's swivel chair for the pilothouse, but purchasing hasn't let me sneak that one through yet.
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Beancounters! They'll drive you nuts even when you demonstrate the practical psychological effects of a worthy purchase.
OP
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49. Quality Cruising with Dad
After a long cold December on the Great Lakes, the season came to a close, and the big boat was put away for the winter. I overlanded eastward to spend a wonderful belated Christmas with the immediate family, then went a little farther east to visit some more of my very favorite people. Eventually I pointed my rented land yacht south, and made my way back down to a much sunnier, and much warmer Beaufort, NC.
Sylphide was right where I’d left her, apparently no worse for the weeks of neglect. The only thing out of place was my transom mounted flag staff, which had been relocated to the other side of the marina courtesy of a recent blow. My neighborly neighbor had fetched it, and stowed it in the marina office for safe keeping.
With that reinstalled, I spent a few leisurely days at Homer Smith’s, getting ready for the next round of migration. I toyed with the idea of staying a bit longer, mostly out of laziness, but also out of affection for the area. I liked Beaufort, and with things being a little more open than they had been for my prior visits, I could see myself spending an extra week or two there. The marina had other plans for my dock, however. The regular summer tenant would be returning soon, so I had to GTFO as the kids say. They offered me another berth across the way, but I figured if I had to move, it may as well be a big move to southward, and so it came to pass.
I departed on a lovely sunny Wednesday morning in the middle of January. There was no other traffic to speak of, and my trip out of town was quiet and calm and enjoyable. As we passed the Morehead City commercial docks, I saw a ship that was unlike any I can remember seeing. She had a couple of massive gantry cranes across her deck, which I assume are meant for really big and/or heavy cargoes. I didn’t see any such cargo moving at the time, so that was just conjecture. Hell, they could just be big weird treehouses for all I know. It held my interest long enough for me to take a picture and say ‘huh, that’s weird,’ but not long enough for me to do any actual research on the matter. I still haven’t.
It felt good to be on the move again. The now familiar Bogue Sound passed in a blur, accompanied by the sounds of audiobooks, music, and loved ones on speakerphone. Before I knew it, we’d plowed a furrow nearly forty miles in length, and Mile Hammock Bay was in sight. I nestled in between a cruising sailboat and one of the bigger Ranger Tugs. I exchanged pleasantries with a passing kayaker as I parked my keister in a wicker chair on the back porch, where I enjoyed a nice juicy IPA and a lovely sunset. Even though it was only my third time at the spot, It felt familiar and homey. My previous two visits had both ended sooner than I’d really wanted, so this time I decided to stay for a couple of nights.
The next day saw lots of activity in the harbor. The other cruisers were gone before I woke up, but there was a lot of small boat traffic and fishermen throughout the day. The Marines at Camp Lejeune were out training, and I tracked a gaggle of uniformed dudes as they stalked their way around the perimeter of the bay. It was pretty impressive how hard it was to spot them sometimes. I was half expecting one of them to come creeping up my anchor snubber if I didn’t keep a sharp lookout. For better or worse, they didn’t. At least, I don’t think they did.
That night, while I caught up on the Great British Baking Show, a USMC helicopter descended on the anchorage. It spent a few hours doing circles around Sylphide, and practicing touch and go landings a hundred or so yards away. It was fun to watch for a little while, but I found myself hoping they weren’t planning to stay up too late. That thing made a hell of a racket. Thankfully they packed it in well before I turned in for the night.
Having finally felt I’d gotten my money’s worth out of the anchorage, I got a late start. I was only aiming to make about thirty miles that day, so I had plenty of time to sleep in. It was another mild and sunny day, and another pleasant cruise down to Wrightsville Beach. As is becoming tradition, I timed the bridges poorly, and wound up driving in circles for 45 minutes waiting for Wrightsville Beach bridge to open. I used the time to set up the lines for docking, since my destination was just a few boat lengths past the bridge. I snagged a spot at Bridgetender Marina’s face dock, where I’d booked two nights. I topped up the water tanks, took a splash of fuel, and laid in some groceries in anticipation of having an extra crew member aboard.
Dad would be joining for a few days of cruising, and I was very much looking forward to it. I rented a car and drove down to Georgetown to pick him up. He’d left his truck there so he could escape back to Florida when he’d had enough of boat life. When we got back to Sylphide, we ordered some bangin’ barbecue take out, and had round two of belated Christmas 2020. I’m pretty sure he was pleased with his haul, and so was I.
What a Martian.
One of my Favorite Gifts
The next morning, after waiting for a tangle of traffic to clear through the Wrightsville Beach narrows, we cast off the lines, did a quick and graceful 900 point turn, and set off down the ICW. The last time Dad and I had done this same trip, we’d made it down to Southport Marina. That wouldn’t be an option this time, since hurricane ISISIAEEE9EAIIS had effectively removed it from the face of the Earth. I opted instead for Deep Point Marina, which was even closer. That meant we had all day to make only about twenty something miles. We took advantage of our extra time, and made a detour down to Carolina Beach. We didn’t stop, but we did a slow cruise through just to check it out. I wanted to see if the anchorage and mooring field would be somewhere I’d want to stop on a future trip, and I think I will. We got right down to the bottom end of the bay, did another 900 point turn, and headed back up toward the junction with the ICW.
After waiting for a tug to pass, we fell in behind them and made our way toward Snow’s cut. This turned out to be quite an adventure. I knew we’d be bucking some current going through, but I didn’t think it would be more than a couple knots. I was wrong. It was more like four or even four and a half. As the tide funneled through the piers under the Carolina Beach overpass, we were down to about three knots. The scene around us was quite frothy and turbulent. The water that wasn’t worked up into a rich, foamy lather was a chocolatey brown, heavy with silt and sediment. It was by far the most current I’d ever seen with Sylphide. I didn’t say so at the time, since dad was already plenty nervous enough. I just quietly kept busy sawing at the wheel, and casually poured on a few hundred more RPMs. Even with the extra shove from Perkins, it was a job keeping her pointed into it. Any time Sylphide’s long keel wasn’t parallel with the flow, she’d crab off sideways at a rate of knots. It felt like flying a kite in too much wind. Fortunately it didn’t take long to get through the skinny bits, and things calmed down massively. We celebrated by stress-eating some hummus and pita chips.
The Cape Fear River was much more tame, ironically enough. At least it was at first. The following current shoved us along nicely, and we were making great time as we passed the super secret military resupply hub at the cute and innocently named Sunny Point (don’t tell anyone where it is!) While we wondered what sort of brain melting lasers they had stowed there, a southerly wind started piping up against the current. It wasn’t long before a steep chop stacked up for us to pound into. Sylphide pitched with great enthusiasm, the dishes rattled and clacked in the cupboards, and every minute or so, her bows would throw a great big cloud of spray over the boat. The windshield wipers got a workout, and dad got to work leaving some more fingerprints in the hand holds. I was having fun.
The sleigh ride kept up for twenty minutes or so, followed by another five with the seas on our beam while we lined up the entrance channel into the harbor. She rolled a bit, but not as much as I thought she might, and we soon found ourselves in the shelter of Deep Point Marina. The seas were gloriously calm, but it was still pretty breezy inside the fairly tight marina. It took a few attempts to get alongside, even with the dockmaster there to catch our lines. I didn’t break anything or hurt anyone’s feelings in the process, so I was pleased.
The wind kept up through the next day, and since neither of us was in anything like a hurry, we decided to chicken out and stay another night. We spent a day fiddling and tinkering with stuff on the boat. We figured out how to open up the running light fixtures, and ordered some replacement LED bulbs for them. We opened up the intermittent old AFI air horns, and started thinking about how to replace them with the new ones I’d gotten for Christmas. I’d also gotten a couple of new light fixtures for the cabin, and some nice teak binocular boxes, and we found homes for them too. Hopefully I’ll be less likely to fumble my Nikon eye stretchers down the companionway steps another seventeen times.
Eventually, a pleasant day rolled around, so we threw off the lines and made our way toward the exit. There was a small ferry coming in that we had to dodge, but there was enough room for an amicable passing, and we exchanged waves using all of our fingers.
Back on the ICW, traffic was light and the cruising was easy and comfortable. The windshield wipers remained firmly in the off position, and dad was able to relax and focus on other anxieties. The only thing that required additional attention was a smattering of buoys at an inlet, which didn’t line up with the charts. As conventional wisdom recommends, I followed the advice of the nav markers, and ignored my charts. It was only after it was all behind us that I realized we’d passed the infamous Lockwood Folly Inlet. I could see how it could be confusing to those unfamiliar with the area, and I certainly wouldn’t want to make the transit in darkness or fog.
The rest of the trip to North Myrtle beach was lovely and smooth. The Little River Swing bridge opened with no lines or waiting, and we were able to sneak under Barefoot Bridge without waking the tender. We parked behind a big Hatteras at Barefoot Landing’s fuel dock, and got reacquainted with Tim, one of the friendliest and most accommodating dockmasters on the ICW. We stayed for two nights, and in between pizza and lounging, we managed to install my shiny new air horns.
More than loud enough to be obnoxious!
I’d seen advisories about high water levels and flooding on the Waccamaw River, and I was a little nervous about whether it would give us any trouble. Dockmaster Tim said it shouldn’t be an issue, as did the Socastee Bridge tender, and the dockmaster at Georgetown. Apparently the flooding was more of an issue farther upstream, and while the currents were a little high in the lower river, they were nothing to worry about. This all turned out to be good advice, and that’s exactly what we experienced the following day. We made excellent time going with the current down the beautiful Waccamaw River, and I was glad to share one of my favorite stretches with dad. We talked about music, and shared some of our more obscure and weird tastes. He definitely had a weirder collection to choose from, but I suppose that’s to be expected from an actual Martian.
We passed under the Ocean Highway overpass, hooked a right, and followed the Sampit River up to Georgetown, where Harborwalk Marina was there waiting for us. With the help of a benevolent breeze, I got her alongside slicker than snot on a doorknob. Of course there was nobody around to see it, but that’s to be expected. Shortly after we got settled in, a familiar face came to say hello. He was a fellow liveaboard who’d been there last time I was, and we’d had some very agreeable chats. It was nice to see him again. It went a long way toward making me feel even more at home than Georgetown already did.
After another day aboard helping me finish up the last lingering bits of our projects, Dad gathered up his hoard and piled into the ol’ pickup rocket, and made off over the horizon. That day, he made more miles than we had in the last week on Sylphide, but he didn’t enjoy it nearly as much. I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere.
After a long cold December on the Great Lakes, the season came to a close, and the big boat was put away for the winter. I overlanded eastward to spend a wonderful belated Christmas with the immediate family, then went a little farther east to visit some more of my very favorite people. Eventually I pointed my rented land yacht south, and made my way back down to a much sunnier, and much warmer Beaufort, NC.
Sylphide was right where I’d left her, apparently no worse for the weeks of neglect. The only thing out of place was my transom mounted flag staff, which had been relocated to the other side of the marina courtesy of a recent blow. My neighborly neighbor had fetched it, and stowed it in the marina office for safe keeping.
With that reinstalled, I spent a few leisurely days at Homer Smith’s, getting ready for the next round of migration. I toyed with the idea of staying a bit longer, mostly out of laziness, but also out of affection for the area. I liked Beaufort, and with things being a little more open than they had been for my prior visits, I could see myself spending an extra week or two there. The marina had other plans for my dock, however. The regular summer tenant would be returning soon, so I had to GTFO as the kids say. They offered me another berth across the way, but I figured if I had to move, it may as well be a big move to southward, and so it came to pass.
I departed on a lovely sunny Wednesday morning in the middle of January. There was no other traffic to speak of, and my trip out of town was quiet and calm and enjoyable. As we passed the Morehead City commercial docks, I saw a ship that was unlike any I can remember seeing. She had a couple of massive gantry cranes across her deck, which I assume are meant for really big and/or heavy cargoes. I didn’t see any such cargo moving at the time, so that was just conjecture. Hell, they could just be big weird treehouses for all I know. It held my interest long enough for me to take a picture and say ‘huh, that’s weird,’ but not long enough for me to do any actual research on the matter. I still haven’t.
It felt good to be on the move again. The now familiar Bogue Sound passed in a blur, accompanied by the sounds of audiobooks, music, and loved ones on speakerphone. Before I knew it, we’d plowed a furrow nearly forty miles in length, and Mile Hammock Bay was in sight. I nestled in between a cruising sailboat and one of the bigger Ranger Tugs. I exchanged pleasantries with a passing kayaker as I parked my keister in a wicker chair on the back porch, where I enjoyed a nice juicy IPA and a lovely sunset. Even though it was only my third time at the spot, It felt familiar and homey. My previous two visits had both ended sooner than I’d really wanted, so this time I decided to stay for a couple of nights.
The next day saw lots of activity in the harbor. The other cruisers were gone before I woke up, but there was a lot of small boat traffic and fishermen throughout the day. The Marines at Camp Lejeune were out training, and I tracked a gaggle of uniformed dudes as they stalked their way around the perimeter of the bay. It was pretty impressive how hard it was to spot them sometimes. I was half expecting one of them to come creeping up my anchor snubber if I didn’t keep a sharp lookout. For better or worse, they didn’t. At least, I don’t think they did.
That night, while I caught up on the Great British Baking Show, a USMC helicopter descended on the anchorage. It spent a few hours doing circles around Sylphide, and practicing touch and go landings a hundred or so yards away. It was fun to watch for a little while, but I found myself hoping they weren’t planning to stay up too late. That thing made a hell of a racket. Thankfully they packed it in well before I turned in for the night.
Having finally felt I’d gotten my money’s worth out of the anchorage, I got a late start. I was only aiming to make about thirty miles that day, so I had plenty of time to sleep in. It was another mild and sunny day, and another pleasant cruise down to Wrightsville Beach. As is becoming tradition, I timed the bridges poorly, and wound up driving in circles for 45 minutes waiting for Wrightsville Beach bridge to open. I used the time to set up the lines for docking, since my destination was just a few boat lengths past the bridge. I snagged a spot at Bridgetender Marina’s face dock, where I’d booked two nights. I topped up the water tanks, took a splash of fuel, and laid in some groceries in anticipation of having an extra crew member aboard.
Dad would be joining for a few days of cruising, and I was very much looking forward to it. I rented a car and drove down to Georgetown to pick him up. He’d left his truck there so he could escape back to Florida when he’d had enough of boat life. When we got back to Sylphide, we ordered some bangin’ barbecue take out, and had round two of belated Christmas 2020. I’m pretty sure he was pleased with his haul, and so was I.
What a Martian.
One of my Favorite Gifts
The next morning, after waiting for a tangle of traffic to clear through the Wrightsville Beach narrows, we cast off the lines, did a quick and graceful 900 point turn, and set off down the ICW. The last time Dad and I had done this same trip, we’d made it down to Southport Marina. That wouldn’t be an option this time, since hurricane ISISIAEEE9EAIIS had effectively removed it from the face of the Earth. I opted instead for Deep Point Marina, which was even closer. That meant we had all day to make only about twenty something miles. We took advantage of our extra time, and made a detour down to Carolina Beach. We didn’t stop, but we did a slow cruise through just to check it out. I wanted to see if the anchorage and mooring field would be somewhere I’d want to stop on a future trip, and I think I will. We got right down to the bottom end of the bay, did another 900 point turn, and headed back up toward the junction with the ICW.
After waiting for a tug to pass, we fell in behind them and made our way toward Snow’s cut. This turned out to be quite an adventure. I knew we’d be bucking some current going through, but I didn’t think it would be more than a couple knots. I was wrong. It was more like four or even four and a half. As the tide funneled through the piers under the Carolina Beach overpass, we were down to about three knots. The scene around us was quite frothy and turbulent. The water that wasn’t worked up into a rich, foamy lather was a chocolatey brown, heavy with silt and sediment. It was by far the most current I’d ever seen with Sylphide. I didn’t say so at the time, since dad was already plenty nervous enough. I just quietly kept busy sawing at the wheel, and casually poured on a few hundred more RPMs. Even with the extra shove from Perkins, it was a job keeping her pointed into it. Any time Sylphide’s long keel wasn’t parallel with the flow, she’d crab off sideways at a rate of knots. It felt like flying a kite in too much wind. Fortunately it didn’t take long to get through the skinny bits, and things calmed down massively. We celebrated by stress-eating some hummus and pita chips.
The Cape Fear River was much more tame, ironically enough. At least it was at first. The following current shoved us along nicely, and we were making great time as we passed the super secret military resupply hub at the cute and innocently named Sunny Point (don’t tell anyone where it is!) While we wondered what sort of brain melting lasers they had stowed there, a southerly wind started piping up against the current. It wasn’t long before a steep chop stacked up for us to pound into. Sylphide pitched with great enthusiasm, the dishes rattled and clacked in the cupboards, and every minute or so, her bows would throw a great big cloud of spray over the boat. The windshield wipers got a workout, and dad got to work leaving some more fingerprints in the hand holds. I was having fun.
The sleigh ride kept up for twenty minutes or so, followed by another five with the seas on our beam while we lined up the entrance channel into the harbor. She rolled a bit, but not as much as I thought she might, and we soon found ourselves in the shelter of Deep Point Marina. The seas were gloriously calm, but it was still pretty breezy inside the fairly tight marina. It took a few attempts to get alongside, even with the dockmaster there to catch our lines. I didn’t break anything or hurt anyone’s feelings in the process, so I was pleased.
The wind kept up through the next day, and since neither of us was in anything like a hurry, we decided to chicken out and stay another night. We spent a day fiddling and tinkering with stuff on the boat. We figured out how to open up the running light fixtures, and ordered some replacement LED bulbs for them. We opened up the intermittent old AFI air horns, and started thinking about how to replace them with the new ones I’d gotten for Christmas. I’d also gotten a couple of new light fixtures for the cabin, and some nice teak binocular boxes, and we found homes for them too. Hopefully I’ll be less likely to fumble my Nikon eye stretchers down the companionway steps another seventeen times.
Eventually, a pleasant day rolled around, so we threw off the lines and made our way toward the exit. There was a small ferry coming in that we had to dodge, but there was enough room for an amicable passing, and we exchanged waves using all of our fingers.
Back on the ICW, traffic was light and the cruising was easy and comfortable. The windshield wipers remained firmly in the off position, and dad was able to relax and focus on other anxieties. The only thing that required additional attention was a smattering of buoys at an inlet, which didn’t line up with the charts. As conventional wisdom recommends, I followed the advice of the nav markers, and ignored my charts. It was only after it was all behind us that I realized we’d passed the infamous Lockwood Folly Inlet. I could see how it could be confusing to those unfamiliar with the area, and I certainly wouldn’t want to make the transit in darkness or fog.
The rest of the trip to North Myrtle beach was lovely and smooth. The Little River Swing bridge opened with no lines or waiting, and we were able to sneak under Barefoot Bridge without waking the tender. We parked behind a big Hatteras at Barefoot Landing’s fuel dock, and got reacquainted with Tim, one of the friendliest and most accommodating dockmasters on the ICW. We stayed for two nights, and in between pizza and lounging, we managed to install my shiny new air horns.
I’d seen advisories about high water levels and flooding on the Waccamaw River, and I was a little nervous about whether it would give us any trouble. Dockmaster Tim said it shouldn’t be an issue, as did the Socastee Bridge tender, and the dockmaster at Georgetown. Apparently the flooding was more of an issue farther upstream, and while the currents were a little high in the lower river, they were nothing to worry about. This all turned out to be good advice, and that’s exactly what we experienced the following day. We made excellent time going with the current down the beautiful Waccamaw River, and I was glad to share one of my favorite stretches with dad. We talked about music, and shared some of our more obscure and weird tastes. He definitely had a weirder collection to choose from, but I suppose that’s to be expected from an actual Martian.
We passed under the Ocean Highway overpass, hooked a right, and followed the Sampit River up to Georgetown, where Harborwalk Marina was there waiting for us. With the help of a benevolent breeze, I got her alongside slicker than snot on a doorknob. Of course there was nobody around to see it, but that’s to be expected. Shortly after we got settled in, a familiar face came to say hello. He was a fellow liveaboard who’d been there last time I was, and we’d had some very agreeable chats. It was nice to see him again. It went a long way toward making me feel even more at home than Georgetown already did.
After another day aboard helping me finish up the last lingering bits of our projects, Dad gathered up his hoard and piled into the ol’ pickup rocket, and made off over the horizon. That day, he made more miles than we had in the last week on Sylphide, but he didn’t enjoy it nearly as much. I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere.
Comodave
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Nice read. Love your posts.
RT Firefly
Enigma
Greetings,
Mr. W/S/Dave...You change your name so much it's hard keeping track. I see the proverbial apple did not fall far from the Martian tree. GREAT stuff!
"...got reacquainted with Tim...". Our daughter told me one time there is a medical name for that light bulb that pops up over your head in response to certain words/actions/deeds. I can't remember what that term is but...
Mr. W/S/Dave...You change your name so much it's hard keeping track. I see the proverbial apple did not fall far from the Martian tree. GREAT stuff!
"...got reacquainted with Tim...". Our daughter told me one time there is a medical name for that light bulb that pops up over your head in response to certain words/actions/deeds. I can't remember what that term is but...
McGillicuddy
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Nice post. The ship in the photo is a paper/pulp carrier. It’s cargo holds are perfectly rectangular so that the bales fit perfectly without need for blocking or securing. Although the cranes look massive they are really lightweight as far as capacity goes, usually about 50 tons or thereabouts. The reason they are gantry type rather than swing type is to allow them to pick up a block of 40 or so bales and drop them accurately in position as the cargo doesn’t swing. It just goes up and down. Same as container cranes on a dock. This ship is all about efficiency and minimizing damage to paper products.
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BruceK
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Nice post Dave. Puts me in mind of the travel writings of Eric Newby, English sailor, cyclist, traveller ,and raconteur.
Newby was a real sailor: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Grain_Race
Newby was a real sailor: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Last_Grain_Race
ranger58sb
Guru
Once when we passed through there, we saw a weird-looking ship (or maybe two?) with some kind of huge nets all above the superstructure. We we're told later that they're used for "catching" space things returning from orbit. Sounded like hogwash, to me...
-Chris
kokopelliTim
Senior Member
Your stories ALWAYS bring a smile to me. Thank you.
I love how you cruise with your dad.
My dad was my boating buddy (and best friend in life). He helped on the boat, gave good advice, was a sounding board and generally nice to have aboard.
Since he passed 5 years ago, boating has changed for me. It is a little more lonely. But i still enjoy my boat and I know dad would enjoy it too.
So enjoy your dad.
Tim
I love how you cruise with your dad.
My dad was my boating buddy (and best friend in life). He helped on the boat, gave good advice, was a sounding board and generally nice to have aboard.
Since he passed 5 years ago, boating has changed for me. It is a little more lonely. But i still enjoy my boat and I know dad would enjoy it too.
So enjoy your dad.
Tim
