.. but first a Beaufort, SC stop. In good weather we anchor south of the downtown marina and if the fridge is well stocked we don’t need a marina courtesy car or a taxi. The mostly south-ish winds have been light, ideal for those who need or want to coastal hop- ideally to Charleston, to skip the fun of going aground. We tossed that idea (not the grounding) around then discarded it. If we couldn’t sail and save fuel, why bother. Did manage a couple day hops out. Enjoyed the change of scenery and the opportunity to try out new inlets in settled weather. Thanks to Indigo we discovered St Catherines; easy passage with the incoming tide and a light south wind.
In Beaufort (do you recall from our lesson that it’s “bew-fort?) we stopped at a favorite waterfront dining spot, Panini’s, where Mondays are half-price pizza. Quelle chance! Two drinks, two small yummy flatbread style pizzas and a side order of meaty Italian sausage all for $32, including tip. Leftovers will be dinner the next night- how good is that?
We have it on good authority; complete with evidence too, that southern South Carolina will succeed and join with Georgia. Many creeks and the man-made land cuts that connect the winding rivers, allowing the ICW to move north/south, look and feel like those in Georgia. Shoaling is occurring at an alarming rate, so much so that many sections will only be navigable at or near high tide. The cut that connects the Savannah River to the Wright River has a horribly shoaled-in spot right at the southern entrance and there sat power boat, “Dare to Dream” aground, waiting for SeaTow. Guess he didn’t read the warnings to “hug the red.”
The South Edisto River contained the brownest, yuckiest looking water. Very tall markers attest to the huge tidal range in these southern waters.
The Ashepoo River- don’t you love these inspired names??- which we traveled through at low to near low provides a good example of the dramatic shoreline cut away at low tide.
Just as I grabbed the camera to take this shot, around the corner in the next cut, sits a monohull aground. I think we could count on one hand the number of monohulls we’ve seen underway in any given day. Brave or foolish, I felt this scene warranted a few poetic words:
Wandering Star wandered too far
The red side he cut too close.
Low tide was near, he hadn’t a fear
Now, “gone aground” he can boast.