Daily Archives: 1 21 November 14

Friday, 21 November                                                45.2 SM

There’s a faint gurgling as Tom Point Creek rushes the length of the keel and bubbles up at the transom. And somewhere off in the golden brown grass a marsh bird squeaks a “good morning.” But those are the only sounds to be heard.

Stillness at sunrise on Tom Point Creek.

The sun slips slowly, silently ‘tween trees on the distant horizon.

This, friends, is a moment to savor. Say, praise the Lord, thank you God of all creation! What an amazing blessing just to be here to breathe the air. Amen!

That brilliant sun soon would dry the dodger windows and warm the cockpit. But right now, the windows are fogged with dew and the overnight chill lingers. And time’s a-wastin’! There are a lot of miles to cover this day.

Red revs, the anchor’s aweigh and Steadfast motors quickly down the creek and back into the Wadmalaw River as a big trawler, followed by two 40-something sloops pass by. This is the easy part of today’s transit. It doesn’t take long to get interesting.

Mud keeps creeping toward the channel at G177

The man-made cuts connecting river to creek, creek to sound and so-on are what make the waterway, so let’s not be too critical. But as has been well-documented, “it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature,” or try too hard to change her mind, for that matter. Man can make a cut wherever he wants but Mother Nature has the last word on whether it’ll stay that way. Usually the word is “no.”

So Steadfast follows others down the Dawho River to North Creek and Watts Cut, the warm-up for what lies ahead. There’s some time to relax and enjoy the morning the miles down the South Edisto River that lead to narrow, shallow Fenwick Cut. Fenwick dumps her into the Ashepoo River where the wind that had helped earlier now is on the nose. It works with the Ashepoo current to try to push Steadfast askew a bit, making it all the more interesting at the helm.

Then comes the much talked about—among Snowbirds, at least—Ashepoo-Coosaw Cutoff.   It seemed like such a good idea at the time, all these many years ago. But Mother Nature’s had her way with the man-made banks in the meantime, building shoals over here and some over there, but not in any predictable manner, nor making their presence known in all cases. It’s become enough of a mess that many Snowbirds now steer clear altogether, choosing a longer route to the east that adds at least five miles to the trip.

How does anyone sail a boat this size around here?

But at mid-tide and with a keel less than four feet below, the Cutoff seems doable this day, so Steadfast sallies in, albeit with caution. There are some tense moments, no question, but the bottom never rises to less than seven-feet so the Cutoff is put astern by midday. At that point, she’s into the Coosaw River itself, wide and with twelve-to-twenty foot depths all the way to the Brickyard Creek and the cut that puts her in the Beaufort River.

Beaufort’s said to be a beautiful city that can’t be missed. But there’s still a hundred-fifty miles to go to reach the Florida line. Every mile made is important. So Beaufort is left to starboard in favor of a landing at Port Royal, six more miles down river.

That’s six miles closer to the Sunshine State. Thank you, Lord.

Steadfast out.