CHUCK & WALT'S DITCH TRIP: Florida or bust!

Beaufort, 7 November 2006, 0650 hours. Fourteen days after we arrived, we slipped out of Town Creek Marina at first light under heavy skies and light rain. Still gun-shy from our nasty "incident," we gingerly creeped back to the ICW at about 4 knots. Once more in the groove, and with Dereg running even better than before, we notched up to 15 knots. Then it was a straight shot down the Ditch past Dusty's house. Along the way we saw hordes of egrets, herons, and cormorants attacking teeming schools of fish. As the rain picked up we passed a slow-moving armada of macho Navy SEAL types in heavily-armed patrol boats. With all those machineguns these guys weren't out duck hunting.

Then the weather really went to hell, going from merely yucky to downright rough and nerve wracking. A massive deluge wiped out all nav aids on the radar display, and we had to check and double-check buoys and lights every step of the way. Things were tense, and a few expletives were exchanged between skipper and crew as we groped along, sorting out the right route to Bald Head Island where we pulled into a marina. Once we were securely tied up and tempers had ebbed, it was time for a rum!

Bald Head Island, 8 November 2006, 0720 hours. Another dreary start, with slow going due to bridge openings and No Wake zones. The upside was that it was very picturesque, with lots of eagles and waterfowl, local crabbers, and trawlers.

A hundred miles later we tied up at Harborwalk Marina in Georgetown, SC, which was described in glowing terms as a totally renovated marina with all-new faclities. They lied. It turned out to be a dilapidated dock with a tiny office, a single restroom and shower, and some old geezer running the place. A great seafood dinner at Big Tuna made up for the marina, so all was good. Making things even better, Walt was visited by Bonnie Baker and her bright and beautiful daughter, Leah, old friends from when he lived in California. In fact, that was one of the nicest times of the trip so far.

Footnote: As if the marina wasn't bad enough, we were tied up just a mile from a massive International Paper pulp mill that belched smoke and steam all night and sounded like a hundred locomotives passing through town. Being directly downwind we were subjected to the reeking stench that filled the night air like a dragon's bad breath.

Georgetown, 9 November 2006, 0630. We couldn't get away from this hellhole fast enough. Leaving the pulp monster behind, we meandered down the ICW which here is truly awesome in its raw southern beauty -- marshes, flocks of water birds, even river dolphins crossing our bow. Spotted some wrecked boats, victims of past hurricanes. No gators.

The weather was so mellow that at Charleston we decided to poke out into the Atlantic. We passed Fort Sumtner to find it flat as glass. Chuck throttled up. We zoomed south at 22 knots, watching diving pelicans before pulling into snobby Hilton Head Marina where a dockhand propositioned Chuck (he declined). There were lotsa cool shops and a bar with live outdoor music. Walt's seafood platter dinner of prawns, scallops, crabcakes and flounder was one of best of the trip. Bartender joke: "Why don't blind people bungee jump?" "Because it scares their dog."

Hilton Head, 10 November 2006, 0645 hours. Cool and calm at first, the day grew hotter as we plowed south in open ocean on flat seas. Leaving Hilton Head harbor a pair of dolphins escorted us out, a classy touch at no extra charge. Pulled into the Conch House Marina at St. Augustine in time for reggae and happy hour. Walt was half-way to heaven.

St. Augustine, 11 November 2006, 0645 hours. Today was another flat-out day on the ocean under bright sun. Passing Cape Canaveral we could see the space shuttle standing on the launch pad. After 150 miles we entered the Ft. Pierce inlet and eased our way to Deregulation's new home -- the Harbortown Marina. At day 27 we had finally reached our destination.

Harbortown Marina -- Dereg's winter home.

Chuck's next upgrade: "Scooter" has a $6,000,000 pricetag.

The dos amigos survived the trip, the accident,
the weather, and each other's habits, to sail another day.

BAHAMAS SIDE TRIP

The deal was this: if the weather held and there were no hurricanes, we'd zip over to the Bahamas and do some fishing, diving, and skewer a few lobster. The weather held, so we shot across the Gulf Stream to West End, the westernmost point of the Bahamas and only four hours from Ft. Pierce. After clearing Customs we trolled for mahi mahi and got skunked. So we anchored off West End and Walt went snorkeling. No lobster, but he did come across a man-killing stingray and gave it a wide berth. That night it was drinks and grilled chicken off the stern.

Next day started fine as we searched for lobster hunting grounds and trolled. Then the winds kicked up and we decided to head around to Port Lucaya rather than take a beating at West End. On the way Walt's rod snagged a huge blackfin tuna...

At Lucaya we took a slip at the Grand Bahama Yacht Club, which is a pretty classy place, and had a steak dinner aboard. The next day we stayed put and played tourist using the local "bus vans" to get around and do some shopping. These are just little vans where everyone crams in, the reggae is loud, the odors ripe, and you can likely buy some hash if you're so inclined. Lunch was beer and conch fritters, and more beer.

Weather Report: The minor storm moving through today will be followed by a much stronger one which threatens to keep us holed up in the marina for several days, maybe more. We decide to split at first light the next morning, before the Gulf Stream turns to hell with 8' to 10' waves. We prepped the boat and super-secured everything, notified next of kin, and tried to get some sleep which was almost impossible. Anxiety gnawed at both of us.

At 0615 we threw off the lines and headed out, hugging land before breaking out into the Gulf Stream. We took a moderate pounding but just endured it, crossing to West Palm Beach inlet by 1100. After clearing Customs we moseyed up through manatee territory to Jupiter via the ole ICW, where Walt's treasure-diving, rum-drinking buddy Harry runs the Grand Slam sportfishing tackle shop and skippers fishing charters for well-heeled clients.

Just one of the endless big-bucks

homes along the shores of the Florida ICW.

Since Harry helped outfit us for the trolling we never really did, we invited him and his Dominican live-wire novia (girlfriend), Lucy, for dinner at Panama Hatties. This was the coolest place -- waterside seating in the open air, fish swimming around in pools of light, live reggae, stone crab claws, mahi mahi, rum, beer, wine... what else is there? Then Lucy, being the vivacious natural born dancer she is, gave us a salsa demo over by the band. Although Harry confides that he's no great catch, Lucy thinks otherwise and plans to marry him in a couple years, being that he was her first love. There's a great love story there...

Back in Ft. Pierce the next day we cleaned the boat stem to stern, and Walt packed his bags. Harry and Lucy picked him up the next day to spend a few days in Jupiter.

The dolphin we never caught. Maybe next time.

The one and only -- Lucy!

A final bonus, at least for Walt, was a lobster feast thrown by Harry and Lucy at her place in Jupiter. Anticipating Walt's craving (and lack of luck in the Bahamas) he managed to snag a few "bugs."