Blewtooth

On Anchor
Bull River, Georgia

September 17, 2006
0745
Caught a wonderful fish yesterday evening. Left the dock at around 1500 and motored up to Little Goatie Island, ran up on to the little beach, dropped the anchor and jumped in the water and began cleaning the bottom with the hoe from Dad’s tool shed. Was surprised to find a lot of barnacles. Bottom is still stubly but much better.
Then got underway and motored up Turner’s Creek and dropped anchor at the head of the Bull River at Saint Augustine Creek. Started fishing right away and as usual ….nothing. This time was slightly better because I was using one of these new "smelly" plastic worms. I hate using live bait and fooling with it. So this was much better for me. I cast out to the marsh grass over and over again and was about to give up when I hooked it. OK I said to myself… enough fishing. Your are all I need. In no time he was on the grill.

Had a problem with the grill flaring up but that was the only thing wrong with a near perfect meal of trout and fresh tomato slices washed down with a beer and a piece of banana cake for desert. Spent a lot of time cleaning up the boat and then tried relaxing. Talked a little on the cell phone and then turned in. There is no feeling in the world like swaying on anchor with a nice breeze coming through the hatch. But it became a fitful night because of all of the pesky cockroaches and spiders that have managed to stow away after being tied up to a dock. Kept waking up with a start after feeling things that tickled the hairs on my arm and hearing rustling sounds in the dark corners of the boat. I am now determined to put a bug bomb in the cabin when I get dockside. That is one of the things you don’t have to worry so much about when you are swinging on a hook. I like anchoring out or being on a mooring sooo much better than dockside. About 0500 the wind died completely and I woke again with the high pitched whine of a mosquito in my ear. Closed the hatches and lit a citonela candle and tried to get back to sleep but couldn’t. But it was ok. Turned on the radio and thought about getting up and making a cup of coffee which I finally did and savored it while looking out of the porthole at a beautiful sunrise.

Going to check the charts for Lazaretta Creek and planning on heading out to Tybee Roads and then back in to Lazaretta on the incoming tide. Hope to have a good sail today.

So…..writing this the following day… motored up Saint Augustine and into the Savannah River and set main. Had a very slow, motor sail down to the mouth of the river. The wind however had disappointed again. Very light. Many freighters as usual to contend with. After finally getting past the Pilot’s Dock the wind picked up slightly and I had a little more sea room so I killed the motor, raised the 150 and started tacking back and forth. Just then "of course" there was a veritable herd of freighters that decided to come in and go out. I was hailed by the Pilots and asked to take care. They were very polite and just wanted to caution me of their approach. I assured them that I would keep well out of the channel if necessary. I then heard a call to Sea Tow from a trimaran that was several miles out of Tybee Roads. She was negotiating a tow because her engine had quit and said the wind had died. I had just past marker 21 when the wind died completely for me as well. Then it picked up again slightly but shifted. I could see Lazareta Creek but was determined not to motor over there. Then I was hailed by Sea Tow who had seen my sails from Lazaretta and thought that I was the disabled Trimaran. I told them that I wasn’t, just some crazy guy trying to dodge freighters out in the mouth of the Savannah River with barely any wind. I got request from him to "take care" also and that was all I needed. I could either turn on the kicker and just motor my self out of the mouth of the river and back into Lazaretta through the south channel or turn around. I opted for just turning around. The wind, though still weak had picked up a little and was now becoming steady and along with the tide it began pushing me back up river. I sheeted the main in tight and left the 150 up and it filled out gently and with little flapping and I was satisfied with this arraignment. The parade of freighters had gone by and I suddenly had the river to myself. I had a nice straight stretch for about a half a mile and so I set the tiller pilot, ducked below and grabbed the chips and salsa, came back up and popped the top on a cold beer and sat back to watch the scenery go slowly past. The shore line seemed so inviting and shady; sometimes marshy and other times little island hammocks with driftwood strewn beaches. I had spent many hours on them in my youth. It was a little hot but other than that it was a perfect moment. I kept the stereo off and just listened to the sounds of the river and thought about what it must have been like to have been on a great sailing ship in the days before tugs. All of the anticipation of making landfall, then the stress of negotiating a river's mouth with shifting strong currents and winds and then through it and then this: peace. A gentle wind pushing you up river. Every sailor must have taken a moment to enjoy it before the anticipation of landing. I would have loved to have been there for that moment.

I am learning to not be bothered by what other people think of me for not using the motor. So I’m not booming along on a reach or close hauled and looking all striking out in the bay. I am still sailing. And I am enjoying myself and this is the payoff.

So, the moment of course past and this time there seemed to be a herd of runabouts buzzing around the next bend. Some outbound and some motoring along the sandy banks. Several had beached and were picnicking in the shade. I sailed slowly past and they waved and I waved back and it was a good sail.

I dropped the 150 just before Fields Cut and turned the kicker on, motored back through Saint Augustine and dropped the hook in the same spot in Bull River. I dropped the main and tidied up a bit and went below for a nap. When I woke up I thought about fishing again but the tide didn’t seem right so that was the end of it. I raised anchor and motored back through Turners Creek and back to the dock on Whitemarsh.

A good trip and I didn’t feel too lonely. I need to sail more now I know. It is such a release for me. Cleanses my soul. Next time I will make it out of the rivers mouth and break free onto the sea. Maybe next weekend.

Good Sailing,
Rocko