Day 45-46

From Peter Ver Ploeg:


We took a look around Wilmington this morning, and while the weather may have left some doubt that we were in the South, the city of Wilmington did not.

Alex took us to an excellent restaurant for lunch, "Flaming Amy's Burrito Barn," and then back to the boat. Pete and I spent some time making ready and shoved out into the river at two in the afternoon. We rode the ebb tide all the way down to the edge of the Atlantic, arriving just after sunset. Then, without pause, flipped on our running lights, charged through the rolling surf at the river's mouth, passed Cape Fear Lighthouse, and entered the North Atlantic ready for our first night sail.


We had previously decided to stand two hour watches, two hours at the helm, two hours below. It would have been nice to have a longer watch so we could have a longer rest. But, everyone has a limit for how long they can sit in the dark, staring at a wildly bobbing compass dial, and still steer straight. We figured ours was about two hours.



The night was fairly rough, 2-4ft waves, steep and choppy. A thin, crescent moon had set early leaving us with just the stars and the glow of the compass dial, the whistle of the wind, the creak of the boat and the crash of the waves. Every few seconds Strolla would run into a bigger wave and with a shudder at the sudden impact, toss a thick spray in front of her bow lights. The water would be illuminated in red and green in a brief flash of color against the black. A second later, smaller water droplets, carried aft on the wind, would rain down on the cockpit in a cold, wet patter.

Coming off watch, wet and cold and exhausted, the thought of struggling out of our foul weather gear just to have to struggle back into it two hours later was too much. I chose to remain fully clothed and dripping wet. Rather than climbing into bed like this, I opted instead to wedge myself between the table and the bulkhead for stability on the violently rocking boat. In a half seated position, I put chin to chest and was sound asleep. Pete did much the same. Two hours can pass very quickly in this way. Fortunately, the following two hours passed much more slowly so things seemed to even out.


As we approached dawn, the waves slowly settled down and by breakfast were only around 1-2ft. We sailed all through the next day like this, wandering over the waves under a warm southern sun, land just the faintest smudge on the horizon. Ten miles from Charleston, South Carolina, we fired up the core to do a little motor sailing and try and reach the harbor before sunset and the turning of the tides. We didn't make it and had a slow fight in to port in the dark. It was Friday night, but we were whipped and stayed on board.