Saturday, October 27 (Mile 309 – Mile 346):  So Thursday afternoon, Bob and I were enjoying our well deserved quiet afternoon and working (playing) on our computers.  I was struggling trying to figure out how to better “share” the blog with some friends, and Bob says to me, “You’re talking to yourself.”

            I say, “I am not.”

            He says, “Yes, you are.”

            This goes back and forth a few times, and I finally say, “Well, if you were a prisoner on a boat for nine months (oh Bob says it’s not nine months – it must be nine years), with a worthless cat, and an uncooperative computer, you would talk to yourself, too!”

            …and that was all there was to that…

            I never did figure out how to “share” the blog, so if any readers have any suggestions or solutions, I would appreciate directions/instructions.

            I want everyone to know that this hurricane is completely Bob’s fault.  For days now, actually since the rain in Dividing Creek, Bob has been extolling the beautiful weather.  Hardly a few hours went by that he didn’t say, “I can’t believe the beautiful weather we are having.”  I’m thinking, he has to stop saying this - this is the kiss of death, and we are going to be stuck somewhere in the middle of the worst storm ever!  And lo! And behold! Here comes Sandy!  So blame Bob!

            I want to return to the story about the strange noises coming from the newly installed water heater.  The repair guy, Greg, was so nice to research what the noise could be, (something about the need for “carbonate (??)” to build up on the inside of the water heater to muffle the sound of it making hot water; but I don’t think he was right, especially, since the water heater was TURNED OFF.  So after I wrote about that matter, a friend of ours e-mailed us that the noise we were hearing was probably these little shrimp-type creatures eating the boat…no…no…eating the stuff that grows on the outside of the hull of the boat.  And I’m thinking, “Yeah, right…and the Easter bunny dyes his own eggs….”  So, like any thoughtful, interested person, I decide to check this out on the internet.  After all, like the ad says, you can’t put anything on the internet that isn’t true, right?  Well, amazingly, I found this website (www.paradiseyachtsales.net - so you can check it out for yourself), that talks about this very phenomenon.  It appears that there are these little snapping shrimp (Alpheus heterochaelis) that have two claws, one larger than the other, that it snaps shut as it catches its prey.  The article gets a little more detailed, but that was enough information for me.  So, I guess, maybe this is a true story, but I’m still skeptical.  Now - I have visions of a movie – it’s night time - all these little shrimp gobbling up the gunk on the outside of the boat, then gobbling up the boat, moving inside as they gnaw little holes in the hull, procreating as they go, we’re alone…)  Aw…c’mom…it’s Halloween!

            So, Friday morning, we leave Southport to head to the Myrtle Beach Yacht Club in South Carolina to ride out “Sandy”.  It’s sort of sunny, but working it’s way to mostly cloudy.  I am back in long pants, and a sweatshirt.  We are in a part of the waterway (mile 315 to 320) that is very developed on both sides – sorry to be disparaging, but, basically, it’s ugly.  There are huge McMansions, run-down shacks, and everything in between chock-a-block stuffed on every available piece of buildable land, and maybe not so buildable.  All of the homes are up on stilts.  I mean why would you want to wake up one morning, say, after Sandy, and look outside and have the distinct impression that your house was floating?   I mean, that’s acceptable in a boat, but not in a house.  Oh well, I’m sure the owners love living near the ocean, and there are always compromises.  There is also an “odor” along this stretch of ICW of a too many people smell (if you know what I mean).   So on down the ICW we go to face the first obstacle – Lockwood’s Folly Inlet – Mile 320 (what a name!).  Apparently, this inlet has shoaled in considerably, and the marks have been appropriately moved (hopefully) but that means they won’t match the marks on the chart plotter – it’s shallow, and we are traveling on a falling tide.  This is a great opportunity to run aground.  We hear chatter on the radio - some people say stay close to the red marks, others stay closer to the green – we pay attention, religiously, to the marks, and stay in the middle, and we traverse through this area with no problems.  That doesn’t mean I wasn’t holding my breath!  

            Around this area, we notice a DeFever following us, and he hails us, and we wind up passing information back and forth about the conditions that we have heard about ahead of us.  There were no other boats other than the two of us who appear to be traveling south on this day – we’re guessing that most people have already found a spot to hole up in to wait out the hurricane, which was what we were heading to do.  Lot’s of little fishing boats, but no one traveling south, so it was actually nice to have some company along the way.  He was going farther than we were, and he was anxious to get to his destination. 

             The ocean is clearly visible for the most part as you pass these inlets, and it is amazing to realize how close to the ocean you really are, and all that separates you from the great wide beyond is a little strip of land that would be breathtakingly beautiful if it wasn’t spoiled by all the development.

            The next inlet that gave us pause was Shallotte Inlet (Mile 330), but we had no problems there either.  However, Little River Inlet (Mile 342) was coming up, and although we had no problems there either, I am always nervous when I hear it could be difficult to get through an area, especially at low tide.  Bob never seems to be nervous about anything.  He just whistles away (well, Bob doesn’t whistle, but you get my drift).  It is about 11:00 a.m. (no…I am never going to write 1100 hours, so get over it), the sky has now turned to gray with heavy white clouds frowning down on us.  This inlet is a convergence of Little River and the Calabash River.  It looks just like an intersection with red marks trying to be copycats of stop signs.  The current runs madly through here every which way – little scurrying ripples chasing after each other, running helter skelter, seeming like they don’t know which way to go.  The landscape is relatively flat here on both sides, and full of marshes with rivulets snaking through the grasses everywhere.  The grayness of the sky, the steel gray color of the rushing water, combined with the yellowish green landscape, give the whole picture an eerie sense of beauty.  We inched our way through here, saw the water level fall from 16’ to 7’, and then, thankfully, start rising again!  We radioed back to our DeFever friend and told him how we navigated through here.  He made it ok, too.  Phew, that was the last obstacle! 

            We are in South Carolina! It is hard to believe we have come so far!

            The old Sunset Beach pontoon bridge has been removed and a big, 65’ vertical clearance bridge has been built in it’s place, so nothing to hold us up from getting to our destination for the evening (or next few days.)  We arrive around 2:00 p.m., get tied up, go check in (the usual routine), do some work around the boat, take a break, and it’s time for dinner!  So we head to the marina restaurant and have a great dinner of broiled flounder, spinach and roasted potatoes, and wine, of course!  Back to the boat, I think I may write some for the blog, but fall asleep at 8:30 p.m.!  So, today, Saturday, we go back to the office and reserve our slip for another, possibly two more days, I play with the cat, Bob checks the status of the hurricane (tropical storm), hurricane (tropical storm) – who knows what it’s going to end up being, and play cards.  We are hoping that “Sandy” just goes out to sea, but it appears that our friends and relatives back home may be in for a “bit of weather.”  Later on, I will probably do boat work (that rhymes with housework).  More later… 

Sunset at Southport

Sandy on a shack

Scenery along the waterway

One of many outbuildings on the water