Book of Days: 10/06/19 thru 11/13/19

Weather forecast for November 16, 2019:

Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

Low 39 high 55

North winds, 10 to 15 kts, rainy

Captain’s Log: October 06, 2019 thru November 13, 2019

The second week of October was pretty routine for us. Perfect Love's bottom was cleaned, the generator was checked out and the air conditioning units were serviced. On October 17th, our boat served as the set of a photo shoot for a local magazine called San Marcos Neighbors that was doing a feature article on Andy Lee and his family. Andy is a celebrity in the Jacksonville sailing community, an accomplished sailor who, at the age of 13, sailed around the world with his father; he is also our yacht broker. Andy was so taken with Perfect Love that he asked if the photo shoot could be done onboard.

The photographer also took several pictures of the interior of the boat that were not used for the article.

On Friday, October 18th, we headed back to Hilton Head Island and the surrounding area to once again look at property. After spending more time at the Shelter Cove Marina we booked an AirB&B in Beaufort, South Carolina, for the night. We arrived in Beaufort just after dark, had a wonderful dinner at Lady's Island Dockside, and then headed for the AirB&B, which is owned by a Captain in the United State Marine Corps. Our accommodations were nice and comfortable, we had the entire house to ourselves and we got a good night's rest before heading back to Hilton Head the next morning.

The entire day was spent looking at more condos and single-family houses. Subsequently, three days later, we made an offer on a nice little ranch house, a fixer-upper on a beautiful lot in Bluffton, less than 12 miles from Windmill Harbor Marina where we plan to keep the boat.

The annual, two-day, Jacksonville Air Show, held over the water just off of Jacksonville Beach, took place on October 26th and 27th. We attended the Show on Saturday, the 26th. It was a beautiful day and the beach was packed with enthusiasts who were not disappointed, the Navy's Blue Angels were awesome and the entire show was outstanding.

The Marina at Ortega Landing held its annual Halloween Party on the 26th as well so we had to hustled back to the boat after the Air Show to get ready for the party. The party was a real good time. An 80s-90s band provided the music and the marina guests packed the dance floor for the entire night. Shirley had a particularly good time; ask her to elaborate the next time that you communicate with her.

On October 28th, our offer to buy the house in Bluffton was accepted; we will now have a home on terra firma once again and we are very excited about living in the Hilton Head area with the boat and big water close by. Notice to all of our friends and family: we fully expect you to visit us when your travels bring you to the area; we will have spare rooms and an air mattress or two ready for you.

A week later, on November 6th, we slipped the lines at Ortega Landing and pointed our bow towards Hilton Head. Thus began one of the most challenging passages that we have yet undertaken.

The first leg of the trip, a short, 20-mile cruise from the marina to a picturesque anchorage just off of the St. Johns River, was pleasant and uneventful. While passing downtown Jacksonville we were visited by a pod of six dolphin who swam with us for several miles. While Shirley manned the camera, I continually knocked my knuckles on the side of the boat as it appeared to us that the knocking noise kept the dolphin interested in us.

The Dames Point Cut, a navigation channel for large ships constructed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers after World War II, provides an alternative to the river's natural course, which contains several of the sharpest turns in the river. Blount Island was created from the dredging spoils of the channel construction. Little Marsh Island, our anchorage for the evening, lies across from Blount Island on what is now called the "Old" St. Johns River. We shared the wide anchorage with one other sailing ketch. We spent a comfortable evening at anchor and were fascinated watching two enormous container ships transit the Cut on their way to the commercial cargo docks up river.

The next morning we made the short, 2-mile trip down the St. Johns River, made a hard turn to port at Sisters Creek and began our 30-mile trip up the ICW heading for Cumberland Island. We arrived at Cumberland Island at approximately 3:00pm, shortly after low tide, set our heavy Rocna anchor in 10 feet of water with 60 feet of 3/4-inch chain and settled in for the night. The weather forecast was calling for 10 to 15 knot winds out of the north with the possibility of light rain showers throughout the night.

In rough conditions while at anchor I usually spend the night on a settee in the main cabin and check our position every 45 to 60 minutes. On this particular evening our anchorage was relatively calm when it came time to hit the sack. The wind was out of the north at about 8 to 10 knots, there was no rain, the tide was running with the wind, our bow was into the wind and there was no chop on the water. Our heavy ground tackle had never failed us and I assumed that we were secured. We were exhausted and I did not check the weather forecast before retiring with my XO to the Master's Cabin, where we both fell fast asleep. We soon learned the hard way that I had made a serious, and dangerous mistake.

At approximately 4:30 a.m. we were suddenly awakened by a very loud banging noise but we couldn't determine what it was or where it was coming from. Startled and confused, we both jumped up and quickly went topside where we were confronted with total chaos. It was pitch black, the rain was pouring down, the wind was howling, the boat was being violently tossed around and we couldn't see a thing. We quickly went below; I started the engine, turned on all of the electronics and the spreader lights to illuminate the deck while Shirley grabbed our big spotlight from the forward cabin. Back on the deck Shirley immediately went forward to the bowsprit and tried to get a fix on our surroundings by panning the spotlight back and forth in a 360-degree arc; no luck, in the total darkness we had no idea of where we were.

At about this time, a loud, prolonged air horn began to blow; it was coming from a boat that was, at the time we retired for the night, anchored not far from us. From the direction of the horn's blast and the location of the boat's anchor light we could tell that we were no longer near our neighbor, but we could not make out anything else in the total darkness. One of us had dragged anchor and, by the terrifying sound and feel of things, it was us!

For what seemed to be an eternity, we were totally out of control and blind to our situation. The boat was swinging wildly and crashing up and down in the waves. The loud banging sound that had woken us up was finally identified as the anchor chain slamming against the bow sprit-mounted anchor roller as the bow dropped and then rose with the waves.

At this point Shirley took the helm while I went forward and tried the spotlight. Shirley finally saw something close to starboard and loudly called out that we were drifting toward a concrete dock. Swinging the light around, I then spotted wood, concrete and a dock cleat. Our 50,000-pound boat had dragged her 80-pound anchor and 60 feet of chain for at least 80 yards and was now less than 5 feet from banging her starboard side up against a section of the St. Mary/Cumberland Island ferry dock. As our luck would have it, this section of the dock just happened to be unoccupied by another boat and the dock itself had a heavy rubber guard running along a length that almost perfectly matched the length of our boat.

With Shirley still at the helm and trying desperately to keep us somewhat parallel to the dock, I quickly secured a heavy dock line to the starboard-side midship hawse cleat and, just as the hull made contact with the dock, I jumped onto the rocking dock where I secured the line to a dock cleat. Shirley quickly left the helm, attached a stern line to the boat and then tossed it to me. After I secured the stern line we quickly repeated the same with a bow line; we also rigged two spring lines.

The boat was no longer drifting but she was slamming against the dock. We now had to time our attempts at positioning each of our large fenders between the boat and the dock with the irregular wave action that was heaving the boat against the dock. Working very quickly and carefully, we soon had four fenders cushioning the hull from the dock.

We, and our beautiful home, were no longer in immediate danger, but we were in a real difficult situation. Now, with things marginally under control, we stood in the pouring rain and took a few minutes to try to calm down and think; our hearts were pounding and, looking back, I think that we both may have been in shock.

It was approximately 6:00am and, with the dim morning light just barely illuminating our surroundings, we were finally able to take in the entire scene. It was frightening. Out of the north, near-gale-force winds were blowing straight down the long fetch of Cumberland Sound and against the incoming tide, creating 4ft white caps that were pushing our boat against the dock. With each breaking wave the floating dock heaved up, down and sideways, constantly banging against its concrete pilings, with Perfect Love mimicking the motion of the dock. Our anchor appeared to have come to rest about 40 feet off of the aft quarter. The anchor chain was rigid, coming off of the bowsprit-mounted anchor roller at a 30 degree angle down and towards the rear of the boat on the port side. Our dinghy, still hanging from the davits, was precariously close to a concrete dock piling, but was not yet hitting it. Oddly, a quick survey of the starboard side of the hull revealed no damage.

Our adrenaline was pumping hard; we each had numerous but minor bumps, bruises and cuts; we stood in the rain and wind and marveled at our "good fortune". If the boat had drifted 20 feet farther to the north she would have been driven past the dock, spun around, beached, pushed onto her side and then taken on water; if she had drifted 40 feet farther to the south she would have missed the fixed dock and slammed into a series of large wooden pilings, spaced about 10 feet apart, and been beaten to pieces. We were incredibly lucky to have come against the dock the way that we did; we had absolutely no damage, not even a small scratch on the hull paint. Our better Angels were evidently looking out for us.

Slowly a measure of composure returned to each of us and, with it, the outline of a plan emerged:

1). lower the dinghy to prevent it from getting pinned against the concrete piling

2). attempt to retrieve the anchor

3). with the anchor on board, get off of the dock under power

4). motor to safer, deeper water

5). drop anchor and play out a 10-to-1 scope (140 feet of chain)

The dinghy was easily lowered into the water and tied to our stern but our multiple attempts to retrieve the anchor proved unsuccessful. The angle of the chain coming off of the bowsprit roller prevented any movement. With every attempt of our powerful windlass, the chain would jump off of the roller and wedge itself between the roller and the guard. One of us would then have to climb out to the end of the bowsprit and dislodge the chain with the bang of a hammer while riding the waves like a bucking bronco.

I thought that by allowing the bow of the boat to swing away from the dock, thereby lessening the angle that the anchor chain was coming off of the roller, we could slowly retrieve anchor. Shirley was not so sure and felt that we should just stay put and wait the storm out. Feeling the need to do something, I went ahead and eased the line that held the bow to the dock. Working the winch foot switch, Shirley made another unsuccessful attempt to haul the anchor. We tried this approach several times and, with each unsuccessful attempt, the position of the boat relative to the dock became more precarious. We finally gave up and called TowBoatUS for assistance. We pulled the bow back towards the dock as far as we possibly could and then waited for our help to arrive. It took bout 45 minutes for TowBoatUS to reach us.

The captain was very skillful, expertly positioning his boat so that he could transfer to us the working end of a heavy tow line with a large steel carabiner connected to it. He then instructed me to clip the carabiner around the anchor chain as far down the chain towards the water as possible. Once this was accomplished, he slowly throttled up, moving away from our boat in the direction that our bow was pointing. The tow line steadily pulled on the chain, causing the carabiner to periodically jump lower down the chain and into the water. With each successive jump, the anchor would drag a foot or two towards the bow. Eventually the anchor freed itself from the muddy bottom and broke the surface of the water about 40 feet in front of our boat.

With the anchor now free Shirley jumped back onto the dock to release the lines; I took the helm. The TowBoatUS captain positioned his boat so that the tension of the tow line kept our bow against the dock. Shirley was then able to carefully release each of the lines and, freeing the midship line last, she step back onto the boat. The TowBoatUS captain then pulled us, with his tow line still connected to our anchor line, away from the dock and into deeper, safer water.

We could now retrieve the entire chain using our windlass but I stopped the windlass just before the anchor reached the bowsprit roller. The carabiner had slipped all the way down the chain and onto the shank of the anchor. Hanging over the end of the bow sprit, I reached down, unclipped the carabiner, tossed the tow line into the water and then pulled the anchor into its cradle. We moved under our own power into deeper water.

The TowBoatUS captain retrieved his tow line, pulled along side, tied a line to our boat and then filled out the necessary paperwork. We signed the papers where required, profusely thanked the captain and bid him farewell. We then motored to our desired location, properly set the anchor and put 160 feet of chain in 15 feet of water. It was now just before noon and the worst of our ordeal was over, but we were not completely out of the woods yet. It was still raining, we still had near-gale-force winds out of the north, the water was very rough and the weather forecast was ugly for the next 12 hours; we were not going anywhere soon.

After changing into dry clothes we hugged each other for a while and then congratulated ourselves. I am very grateful to have such a calm and steady hand as my ship mate; we worked extremely well together under terrible conditions. Time after time, Shirley saw what needed to be done and just did it. Over warm food and hot drinks, we discussed in great detail the actions, or lack of action, that led to this crisis. We learned some very important lessons the hard way. The crew and the boat were extremely fortunate to emerged unscathed and we thanked God for that.

As our nerves finally settled a heavy fatigue set in and we spent the remainder of the long and stormy afternoon alternating cat naps in between checking the anchor and our position relative to the shore. We did have one pleasant diversion in the late afternoon; to the south we could clearly see a sinister-looking nuclear submarine making its way up Cumberland Sound heading for the Kings Bay Naval Base, escorted by two large submarine tenders.

We both spent the long night in the salon, Shirley occupying the port settee while I stretched out on the starboard side. The high winds and rough water continued all night. A 40-minute timer was set and we took turns going on deck to check our position. With the outgoing tide running with the wind the boat rode at anchor comfortably but, by 11:30pm, the incoming tide opposed the wind and the boat swung chaotically about the anchor; it was very uncomfortable from midnight until dawn.

The weather forecast for the new day called for gradually clearing skies and diminishing winds through the morning. We had had enough of Cumberland and decided to make the 25-mile trip to Jekyll Island. Shortly after dawn we hauled anchor and headed for the ICW.

We made our way north under cloudy skies for the first few hours; the sun finally broke through around 10:00am. We passed about a dozen boats, all heading south, as we motored north. The wind was still blowing at 18 to 25 knots out of the north, with some gusts over 30, when we entered St. Andrew Sound, just south of Jekyll Island. There we were challenged with 5-to-7ft waves on our nose. With waves breaking over the bow and sea spray flying over the dodger and bimini, we powered our way into open water and Red Marker '32' (St. Andrew Sound has a shoal that runs a couple of miles out and Red 32 marks the turning point around which we had to navigate to get to Jekyll). We made the turn with less than 8ft of water under our keel. By 3:00pm on Saturday, November 9th, we were securely tied to the dock at Jekyll Harbor Marina; we were completely exhausted. After grabbing an early dinner at Zachry's Riverhouse next to the marina, we hit the sack and were asleep before sunset.

On Sunday, November 10th, we secured two marina bicycles and rode all over the island. Driftwood Beach was amazing and the view from the beach of the Golden Ray, the capsized cargo ship still lying in St. Simons Sound, was incredible.

We also rode our bikes through the historic Jekyll Island Club. The Club was founded in 1886 when members of an incorporated hunting and recreational club purchased the island for $125,000. The Club thrived through the early 20th century; its members coming from many of the world's wealthiest families, most notably the Morgans, Rockefellers and Vanderbilts. The Club closed at the end of the 1942 season due to complications from World War II. In 1947, after five years of funding a staff to keep up the lawn and cottages, the island was purchased from the Club's remaining members for $675,000 during condemnation proceedings by the state of Georgia.

On Monday morning, November 11th, rested and anxious to start moving again, we slipped the dock lines at Jekyll Harbor Marina and continued our trek north; we had 56 miles between us and our next anchorage. Under clear blue skies and light winds we squeezed under the Jekyll Island Bridge. With the beautiful Sidney Lanier Bridge hanging gossamer-like in the west, we made our way across St. Simons Sound, passing an incoming cargo ship and the wreck of the Golden Ray. Shirley soon disappeared below deck and got lost in her work while I was left alone at the helm to enjoy the scenery slowly passing by.

The cruise was uneventful and relaxing; we arrived at our anchorage on the Newport River near St. Catherine's Island just before 5:00pm and were treated to a stunningly beautiful sunset. The stars were ablaze; there was not another human in sight.

The weather forecast for Tuesday, November 12th, called for clear and calm conditions until late afternoon, after which rain and very cold winds increasing to 20-25 knots would move in; the first freeze warning of the winter was issued for the morning of the 13th. We had 49 miles to cover before reaching downtown Savannah and the forecast for the next few days was not good. If we started at daybreak and the forecast held, we should be in Savannah before the weather deteriorated.

Our first challenge, about 17 miles up the ICW, was the infamous 'Hell Gate'. This short but troublesome channel across Ossabaw Sound is a notorious spot for groundings and, with a 6ft draft, we were a bit anxious about crossing it at anything other than high tide. We approached the channel at 90 minutes past high tide and saw nothing less than 8ft of water all the way through. So much for Hell Gate; on to Savannah.

We reached the Savannah River at approximately 3:30pm, so did the rain and the wind. The slow 6-mile trip up river to the city was made under miserable conditions with the temperature dropping quickly. There was not another boat on the water.

Approaching the River Street Market Dock we were confronted with yet another challenge: we had to squeeze our boat, measuring 58'2" overall, into an 75' open space between a $75,000,000 yacht and a $120,000,000 yacht. We made it, just barely, missing the $75Mm floating palace to our stern by about 2 inches (the captain was on the fore deck watching closely as we slip past).

Once secured to the dock, the shore power was quickly connected and the heaters were cranked up. Time to warm up, tidy up the boat and get ready for drinks and dinner with our Savannah friends Jeff, Elana, Sam and Mark.

We met at Elana and Sam's place, a beautiful 18th-century house on East Bay Street, almost directly across the street from our dock. After drinks, they wanted to see the boat so we walked back to the dock for a quick tour before heading out for dinner. It being a week night, Shirley and all of our friends had to work the next morning so it was an early night. After stimulating conversation and a delicious meal we were back on board by 9:00pm.

On Wednesday morning, November 13th, under a cold, crystal clear blue sky, we left downtown Savannah and headed for Hilton Head Island and Shelter Cove Marina. At approximately 1:00pm we entered what will become our new home waters. Our most challenging passage to date came to a gratifying end as we crossed Calibogue Sound, headed north on Broad Creek and tied up to slip I-12 at Shelter Cove.

Until next time, may your tomorrow bring fair winds and following seas.

Book of Days: 09/06/19 thru 10/05/19

Weather forecast for October 06, 2019:

Jacksonville, Florida

Low 70 high 92

North winds, 8 to 15 kts, sunny and humid

Captain’s Log: September 06, 2019 thru October 05, 2019

With the scare of hurricane Dorian still fresh on our minds, we decided to ask the marina if we could extend our stay through October 31st, the official end of hurricane season. Bruce, the marina manager, initially told us that there was no room at the inn but, the very next day, he told us that someone had just cancelled their reservation and we could stay indefinitely, however, we would have to move back across the fairway from C-95 to B-75 before the end of the month. No problem! We will be in Jacksonville for a while longer.

On Friday, September 6th, we hopped in the SUV and headed for Savannah to catch up with old friends and to scope out the marina scene in the area. We arrived in Savannah in the late afternoon and checked into the Hyatt Regency in the heart of the old city. After depositing our baggage we headed out to do some exploring and, after several miles of walking the historic streets and beautiful squares, we ended up sitting at a bar where we engaged in a conversation with two locals who just happened to be tour guides. We left the bar with some good information about Captain Woody's, a 'must visit' restaurant in the Bluffton area, and two free tickets to a bus tour of Savannah.

The next day we drove to the little town of Bluffton to check out Captain Woody's, which was closed, and then continued on to Hilton Head. We ended up at Shelter Cove Marina where we met Debra, the rental manager for the three condo complexes that surround the marina. Debra gave us some information on condo rentals and, just for grins, she then showed us two units that were currently available in The Captain's Quarters complex. We wanted to check out a few of the condos as we are kicking around the idea of renting a unit during the upcoming holiday season.

That evening, back in Savannah, we met up with our old cruising friends Jeff, Sam, Elaina and Lana at Sam and Elaina's beautiful home on East Bay Street. After a few drinks we walked several blocks to Circa 1875 where we had a fantastic dinner, great conversation and a lot of laughs.

On Sunday morning, September 8th, our youngest daughter's 37th birthday, we checked out of the hotel and headed for Thunderbolt Marina. We were very disappointed with Thunderbolt; it is not a place where we would want to spend any amount of time. Our decision was now made; Shelter Cove Marina in Hilton Head would be our next temporary home. We were on the road back to Jacksonville by 11:00am.

It will take us about five days to bring the boat from Jacksonville to Hilton Head in early November and we wanted to check out two marinas along the route; the Brunswick Landing Marina in Brunswick on Fancy Bluff Creek and the Morningstar Marina on Lanier Island just west of St. Simons Island. Morningstar would be our first stop.

On the drive east along the Torras Causeway, heading towards Morningstar, we took notice of a very large and unusual object looming above the vast plain of marsh and saw grass way off on the southern horizon. It had a very unusual shape, half of it was red and the other half was blue with a bit of white. We could not identify what it was and soon forgot about it.

We had been to Morningstar two years ago and had met at that time a fellow Vagabond 47 owner who treated us to a tour of his boat. This time we came across a beautiful Vagabond 42 but the owner was not onboard. We admired the boat, taking particular note of the very large cockpit, and then finished our stroll of the docks.

After inspecting the rest of the Morningstar facility we climbed back into our SUV and headed for King City on the southern tip of St. Simons Island. Traffic heading onto the island was horrific but we eventually made our way to Mallery Street. We parked in front of Iguanas Seafood Restaurant and found two vacant stools at the bar.

While enjoying a delicious late lunch of shrimp wrapped in bacon, we learned from the bar maid that a large cargo ship had capsized at approximately 2:00am, that morning, in Saint Simons Sound. Four crew members were still missing. The traffic that we had encountered coming onto the island was now understood; everybody within a 30 mile radius was coming to the Saint Simons Pier to get a very close look at the Golden Ray, a 200-meter-long car carrier, laying on her side in 30ft of water. We finished our lunch and headed for the pier.

The pier was swarming with onlookers brandishing cameras and network news personalities, camera crews in tow, doing live broadcasts. Coastguard boats and salvage tugs encircled the wreck. It was a surreal sight. This huge ship, laying on its side, was so close that it felt like we could almost reach out and touch it. It was a rare and very strange thing to behold. We now understood what the very large and unidentified object was that we had seen in the distance on our way to Morningstar Marina.

Like everyone else, we gawked at the strickened vessel and took many pictures. Upon our departure from St. Simons Island we headed for Driftwood Beach on Jekyll Island to get an entirely different perspective of the wreck.

The Golden Ray was bound for somewhere in New England carrying over 4,000 Hyundai automobiles. She capsized in 30ft of water approximately 30 minutes after leaving the big AVP Marine Terminal in Brunswick. Had the capsize occurred less than 20 minutes later the Golden Ray would have been in the open ocean and would have gone down. We still do not know he cause of the accident.

After getting our fill of the Golden Ray disaster we headed for the big marina in Brunswick. The marina is in a very scenic location but the town of Brunswick is not much to write home about. A one or two night stop at the marina would work for us but nothing longer. After a quick tour of downtown Brunswick we were back on the road and heading for Jacksonville.

Shirley had been trying for some time to sell our collapsable bikes on FaceBook and, on September 12th, a woman named Cindy showed up at our marina with cash in hand. As we walked down the dock towards our boat I struck up a conversation with her. Was she a boater, perhaps a sailor? What kind of sailboat did she have?

To our amazement, Cindy lived on a Vagabond 42 currently docked at Morningstar Marina on Lanier Island just west of St. Simons Island. We had been admiring her boat at Morningstar just four days ago! What a crazy, small world! We are now FaceBook friends with Cindy and will catch up with her at Morningstar during our trip north to Hilton Head. Amazing!

At 7:00am on Saturday, September 14th, we were once again driving to Hilton Head; we had a 10:00am appointment with a realtor to look at condos on the island. For some time now we have been feeling the need for a home base, somewhere on terra firma, near the southeastern Atlantic coast, that we could retreat to when we needed a break from the tight quarters of Perfect Love (living full time on a 47ft boat is much like living in a tiny house). Our original thoughts were centered around Savannah but, after the disappointment of Thunderbolt and after spending more time on Hilton Head, our attraction to the island and the near-by surroundings eclipsed Savannah. We were now on a mission to find a home base in the Hilton Head area.

Rob, our realtor, showed us 8 condos in the Shelter Cove Resort; we were not impressed with any of them and the asking prices were outrageous. Scrap the idea of buying a condo near the Shelter Cove Marina. Maybe our original thought of just renting a condo for the holiday season was not such a bad idea after all. We bid Rob a fond farewell and headed for the Backyard Beach Bar near Coligny Circle where we compared notes and refined our home search strategy over beers and greasy burgers.

As we drove off of the island we decided to tour the model homes at Latitude Margaritaville and at Sun City. Both are senior-oriented, planned communities located across from each other on Route 278, about 10 miles west of Hilton Head Island. We had a lot of fun touring the model homes. Maybe we should build a house.

To our great surprise, we were impressed with the model homes at both developments. We took a lot of pictures to capture some great decorating ideas for future reference in the event that we decide to build a new home or remodel an existing property (I need projects).

We stopped in St. Marys on the drive home and had an absolutely wonderful dinner at St. Marys Seafood & More. We sat at the bar, met the manager, his wife, his son and grand children. After being officially adopted into their family and finishing our delicious meal we were treated to a free, home cooked desert. What great people! What a fun place!

On Friday, September 20th, I served as crew on our friends Ralph and Leslie's catamaran Now & Zen. Ralph and Leslie run a busy day charter service, taking up to six passengers out on the St. Johns River for 4-hour cruises. Shirley had crewed for them back in August when I was in Ohio. Leslie and Shirley were scheduled to attend a benefit at the Jacksonville Garden Club and Ralph asked me to fill in for Leslie. I had never been on a catamaran so I jumped at the opportunity.

We left the dock shortly after 4:00pm and, after passing the Ortega River draw bridge and approaching the wide St. Johns River, Ralph stationed me at the helm while he mingled with and took care of the passengers. The boat did not handle like our mono-hull but I soon got the feel and had a lot of fun; I had the helm for 90% of the cruise. As the sun was setting we were treated to a spectacular view of downtown Jacksonville.

The next morning we participated in the annual Ortega Marina Dinghy Poker Run. It was my first ever poker run. There were five locations along the Ortega River that each participating dinghy had to visit. The participants could visit the stops in any order that they desired and at each location a playing card would be obtained. We were given 40 minutes to complete the run. The crew with the best poker hand at the end of the run was declared the winner and given a $200 credit at the marina; there were other prizes given out as well.

The intrepid crew of Love Child (our dinghy, powered by a trusty 15hp Suzuki outboard) arrived at the starting line armed with a cooler full of Coronas and stimulated by our favorite music blasting from a bluetooth speaker. We stood ready and able to best the competition.

We completed the run in not quite record time because we lingered to admire the two bald eagles perched high in a tree overlooking the small dock that was our third stop.

With two pair and Jacks high, we thought that we were in the running as the participants gathered around the marina pool for drinks, burgers and dogs (provided by the marina). In the end we were not even close; we left empty handed but feeling good. It was a lot of fun.

Friends had told us about Clark's Fish Camp, an eclectic restaurant located on a creek that feeds the St. Johns River about 20 miles from our marina. We just had to go so, on the evening of Monday, September 23rd, we enter the address into the SUV's navigation system and took off for Clark's.

What a strange and interesting place located in a spectacularly beautiful area! Literally hundreds of exotic animals look down on diners from the ceilings, walls and isles of the multi-roomed, ramshackled wooden structure. A live, full-grown alligator lounges in the large aquarium next to the bar. Countless small alligators linger among the lily pads, waiting for food scraps, in the shallow water that borders the outdoor dining deck on three sides. Every animal that we could think of, and many that we had no idea of, watched with glassy eyes as we devoured our delicious meal.

We later found out from an employee that Clark's has a special arrangement with many zoos throughout the US. The arrangement entitles the restaurant to the corpses of any animal that dies while at the zoo.

A beautiful sunset brought our excellent adventure at Clark's to a close. If you find yourself in Jacksonville, you must go to Clark's Fish Camp!

We had quite a scare on Friday evening, September 27th. While eating our dinner at the bar at La Nopalera, a Mexican restaurant not far from the marina, I began to choke. Shirley was engaged in a conversation with the young man sitting next to her and didn't notice that I was struggling to breath. I could not speak and was beginning to get light-headed. When Shirley turned to look at me she immediately knew that I was in serious trouble and jumped into action. In a loud voice she called for help while she pulled me from the barstool and began the Heimlich Maneuver. She was too short and couldn't get her hands positioned correctly. By this time I was limp, pale as a sheet and blankly staring forward. Shirley continued to call for help. Finally Debra, a woman who was actually shorter than Shirley, took over.

This little angel was a nurse trained in the maneuver and knew exactly what to do. Steadying herself by putting her right leg back, she bent me over backwards, lifting me off of the ground, with her hands in a fist positioned just above my navel. She pushed hard inward and upward at the same time. After a second abdominal thrust the obstruction cleared and I could breath again.

The entire restaurant was watching as the shock slowly subsided and I began to feel normal again. We sat at the bar and decompressed as a number of employees and patrons expressed their happiness that I was OK.

Shirley was amazing; keeping calm and acting quickly. I literally owe my life to my wonderful XO and the little nurse who stepped up to help. Remember, you never know if you have tomorrow; live every day as if it is your last.

Robert, my best man, and his wife Karen arrived from Cincinnati the next afternoon for a week of cruising. Robert and Karen are experienced sailors who desperately needed a break from the daily grind and we were more than happy to oblige.

On Sunday, while I finished the exhausting chore of polishing all of the stainless steel on deck and hull, Shirley, Robert and Karen headed to Costco to provision for the week. Later that evening we had everything ready for a mid-morning departure the next day.

We began the first leg of our trip, a 24-mile cruise from the marina to Sisters Creek, at 10:30am on Monday. Five hours later we were tied up to the free city dock, bow in, at Sisters. Robert quickly inflated Karen's blow-up kayak/paddle board and off she went to explore the surrounding marshes and waterways. Those that remained relaxed and enjoyed the scenery while contemplating the next day's route.

The next leg of the journey would take us from Sisters Creek, which is on the ICW and just two miles from the ocean, to Cumberland Island. We would cover a distance of approximately 27 mile if motoring the ICW or approximately 34 miles if sailing off-shore. The unanimous preference was to go off-shore but the weather forecast was not favorable; calling for 5-7ft seas and northeast winds gusting to 20 knots. The Captain postponed the final decision until the next morning.

The weather that greeted us with the sunrise was true to the forecast; we are going to motor the ICW. Now, how are we going to get off of the dock?

Sitting alone in the cockpit as the sun was just starting to climb over the eastern horizon, I quietly began to develop our exit strategy. Suddenly I was distracted by movement on shore; I turned to see an old, oriental gentleman silently facing the just rising sun. He was dressed in a white shirt and beige pants, and holding a walking stick that was a bit taller than he was. A plastic grocery bag was on the ground next to his left foot. He stood still for a moment, not far from the water's edge, and then slowly took a knee in the sand while holding his head down and his vertical staff close to his body and against the right side of his face. He knelt silently, not moving a muscle, for at least the next five minutes; probably celebrating the new day, paying homage to a god or honoring an ancestor; a Buddhist perhaps. I watched with a voyeuristic fascination.

Slowly he rose, grabbing the plastic bag as he grew taller. Oddly, and at the same time, several species of birds began to flutter around the man. He slowly set his staff on the ground and, with his free hand, reached into the plastic bag. In a cacophony of squawks and flapping wings the birds circled closer and closer as he tossed avian delicacies into the air. This went on for some time; until the bag was emptied. The birds dispersed as the man picked up his staff, turned and slowly walked away.

Judging by the behavior of the birds, this must happen often, perhaps every morning.

Now, back to the challenge at hand, how are we going to get off of the dock?

The dock is a long, concrete pier running parallel to the shoreline of a rather narrow and shallow oxbow off of the western shore of the ICW. There is a 3 knot current running through the oxbow in a counter-clockwise direction as the tide rises and in a clockwise direction as the tide ebbs.

Tied to the dock with our bow in (pointing away from the ICW and into the oxbow) I had to make a 180 degree turn in a fairway that was about twice as wide as the length of the boat. We were 45 minutes past high tide and the current was running fast and away from the dock.

Since we were tied to the very end of the dock, the end closest to the ICW, I had planned to back straight down the narrow 20-yard mouth of the oxbow and into the ICW but, as soon as the last dock line was slipped, the current quickly carried us towards the oxbow's opposite shore. Even at full power the boat would not back. The water was pushing us sideways into the shallows and I had to quickly get the bow to turn to port somehow. Finally, after several unsuccessful attempts, and with the 110hp turbo engine's pedal to the metal and the bow thruster about to blow a fuse, the bow started to respond. But not before our keel momentarily kissed the muddy bottom. Finally, after a tense few minutes that put us all on edge, the port turn was fully executed and we advanced into the deeper and wider waters of the ICW, heading north.

We eventually relaxed as the very scenic ICW slipped by at 4 knots for the next 25 miles. We did have to keep a close eye out for shoaling in several areas. The Twin Highway Amelia Island Bridge, just south of Fernandina, brought us to a halt. The bridge clearance at mean high tide is supposed to be 65ft and we were approaching the bridge 15 minutes after high tide. During normal high tide conditions we would have about 18 inches to spare, but it was a 'king' tide and the clearance gauge on the bridge read 62.5ft. We set the anchor and waited for the water to drop; two and one half hours later we motored under the bridge. We passed Fort Clinch, the Civil War-era fortification at the northern tip of Amelia Island, forty five minutes after passing the bridge. We dropped anchor just off of Cumberland Island thirty minutes after passing the Fort.

After securing the boat we went ashore to do our initial reconnaissance of Cumberland Island. Following a broad path that cuts straight across the island we marveled at the huge, twisted, moss-draped live oaks that towered over the thick underbrush and whose branches formed a verdant canopy over the path that we traversed. The heavy foliage eventually gave way to sand dunes and sea oats which, in turn, gave way to a wide, flat and totally deserted beach that stretched for miles both north and south. The soothing and constant drone of waves breaking on the shore was the only sound to be heard.

That evening, after dinner, we watched the sun set over Cumberland Sound and then spent several hours star gazing. Only the distant lights from the submarine base at Kings Bay off to the northwest disturbed the darkness.

A brief history of Cumberland Island:

Sometime after 1733 the English General James Oglethorpe, founder of the colony of Georgia, established a hunting lodge on Cumberland Island. He named the lodge 'Dungeness' after a headland in Kent, England.

The Revolutionary War hero Nathanael Greene came to own most of southern Cumberland Island as a result of a business deal used to help finance George Washington's Continental Army. Greene's wife Catherine built a huge, four-story mansion on the island after his death. She named it 'Dungeness', after Oglethorpe's hunting lodge.

In 1818, a very ill General "Lighthorse" Harry Lee, a Revolutionary War hero and old friend of Catharine Greene, was returning from the West Indies when he asked to be taken to Dungeness. Lee died after a month of illness and was buried on the island. His son, Confederate General Robert E. Lee, had a tombstone placed over the grave and visited his father's final resting place several times.

In the 1880s Thomas M. Carnegie, brother of steel magnate Andrew Carnegie, and his wife Lucy bought land on Cumberland for a winter retreat. In 1884, they began building a mansion on the site of Catherine Greene's old structure. Carnegie never lived to see the completion of the mansion but Lucy and their nine children continued to live on the island, naming their mansion 'Dungeness' after that of Greene.

Dungeness was designed as a 59-room Scottish castle. Lucy also built pools, a golf course, and 40 smaller buildings to house the 200 servants who worked at the mansion. The last time Dungeness was used was for the 1929 wedding of a Carnegie daughter.

After the stock market crash and the Great Depression, the family left the island and kept the mansion vacant. Dungeness burned in a 1959 fire, believed to have been started by a poacher who had been shot in the leg by a caretaker weeks before. Today, the ruins of the mansion remain on the southern end of the island.

In 1954 members of the Carnegie family invited the National Park Service to the island to assess its suitability as a National Seashore. In 1955 the National Park Service named Cumberland Island as one of the most significant natural areas in the United States and plans got underway to secure it.

The island has three major ecosystem regions. Along the western edge of the island there are large areas of salt marshes. One will also see palmetto plants and gnarled live oak trees covered with Spanish moss at the edge of the island's dense maritime forest. Cumberland Island's most famous ecosystem is its beach, which stretches over 17 miles.

The island is home to many native animals, as well as non-native species. There are white-tailed deer, squirrels, raccoons, nine-banded armadillos, wild boars, feral hogs, American alligators, as well as many marshland inhabitants. It is also famous for its feral horses that roam free on the island.

On Wednesday, October 2nd, Shirley, Karen and I motored to shore for a day of hiking. Robert remained on board busy with work. We spent the majority of the day exploring the Dungeness ruins, watching the wild horses and combing the beach where Shirley collected many fine conch shell specimens.

After a fine dinner the crew once again retired to the deck to watch the sunset and to star gaze.

Robert and Karen were scheduled to fly back to Cincinnati on Saturday so, at 9:00am on Thursday, October 3rd, we hauled the anchor, motored south on Cumberland Sound and then out into the open ocean, heading south. Our destination was the St. Johns River and Sisters Creek.

We were able to fly our brand spanking new, big, bright red code zero head sail for a while and, I must admit, we were a sight to behold. As we made the 90 degree turn south, paralleling the coast, the wind moved to our nose and we had to douse 'big red'.

Less than two hours out of Cumberland Sound we could see, far to the south, the faint outlines of a few of the big US Navy ships moored at the Mayport Naval Station. The Naval Station sits at the mouth of the St. Johns River and, as the distance narrowed, the big ships began to take shape and loom above the waves.

The ICW crosses the St. Johns River just two miles up river from Mayport and Sisters Creek lies on the ICW less than one half mile north of that intersection. As luck would have it, we approached the Sisters Creek Bridge at high 'king' tide and, like Fernandina, we had to set the anchor and wait for 60 minutes before the water dropped allowing us pass under the bridge.

Once under the bridge we had no problem tying up at the city pier. However, this time we entered the oxbow keeping the pier as close to port as possible. Moving deeper into the oxbow and staying close to the pier I began a back-and-fill maneuver which turned the boat 180 degrees to starboard. We were now close to the oxbow's opposite shore and parallel to the dock, with our bow facing the ICW. The current slowly carried us right up to the dock and we touched with a gentle kiss.

The next morning, at daybreak, I once again had the distinct pleasure of watching my oriental friend pay his homage to the rising sun and then feed his many winged friends, who were just as excited to see him as I was.

We were easily off of the dock by 10:00am on Friday morning, motoring towards The Marina at Ortega Landing. We glided past a beautiful downtown Jacksonville and slid into slip B-75 about 4 hours later. We put a couple of thick steaks on the marina clubhouse grill and then, after a fine dinner, we played our new favorite card game, 'hand and foot', late into the evening. Robert and Karen departed for Cincinnati the next day.

Until next time, may your tomorrow bring fair winds and following seas.

Book of Days: 08/05/19 thru 09/04/19

Weather forecast for September 05, 2019:

Jacksonville, Florida

Low 70 high 92

North winds, 8 to 15 kts, sunny and humid

Captain’s Log: August 05, 2019 thru September 04, 2019

Our new temporary home, The Marina at Ortega Landing, is a really nice place. Located on the Ortega River, a tributary of the St. Johns River, about 20 miles from the ocean, this marina boasts a beautiful lounge, swimming pool, hot tub, great shower facilities and well-maintained, heavy, floating docks. It is one of the premiere hurricane holes on the east coast and why we chose to come here.

Our original slip assignment was on the T at the end of ‘A’ dock but, the day before we arrived, we were told that a broken-down trawler was temporarily occupying our spot. Upon our arrival we were directed to slip 75 of ‘B’ dock. As I turned into the fairway between ‘A’ and ‘B’ docks the wind and current pushed me too far down the fairway and I had to execute some fancy maneuvers to reposition us before easing our battering-ram bowsprit into the slip.

The owner of the 80ft motor yacht in slip 74 was on the dock and instructing me to back into the slip. The XO ever so politely replied "NO WAY". Backing Perfect Love is not an easy thing to do under any conditions; with multi-million dollar yachts on either side of me, and with the current and wind conditions as they were, a bow-in approach was the only way to go. We made it with no issues, but I was perspiring profusely. We secured the boat, met a few of our new dock neighbors and then, as the sun was setting, relaxed on the fore-deck with a glass of wine.

The next morning we familiarized ourselves with the facility and then explored the surrounding neighborhood on foot. Old streets of small homes and large, stately manors, lined with huge live oak trees dripping with Spanish moss, lead from the marina to a near-by shopping district that boasts a Publix supermarket, a Panera Bread cafe, a West Marine store and a Chik-Fil-A restaurant. We will be comfortable here.

Two days after our arrival at Ortega we decided to rent a car, drive down to St. Augustine and retrieve our SUV. Now, with wheels at our disposal, it was time to explore Jacksonville. We were a bit disappointed.

Several weeks ago, while still in St. Augustine, I told a gentleman that we were heading for Jacksonville. “Why” he said, “I live in Jacksonville and there is nothing there” he added. Unfortunately, he was right.

We did enjoy the Neptune Beach/Atlantic Beach/Jacksonville Beach areas, but downtown and the west side of town (other than the marina and immediate surrounding area) are unimpressive. While in Neptune Beach we stopped at the famous Pete's Bar.

About Pete's Bar:

"During prohibition the bar's first owner, Peter Jensen, used to sell bootleg liquor from his nearby grocery store. When prohibition ended in 1933 Pete's Bar was the first in Duval County to receive a liquor license. Peter's granddaughter, Nancy Jensen, owns the business now with her four children. Her secret to success? Change nothing. "I had one man walk in the door and say 'thank God.' And I said why are you saying that sir? He said I haven't been at the beach for 40 years. Everything has changed but Pete's hasn't changed at all," said Jensen.

Historical pictures and photos of annual events line the wall of Petes like the yearly Thanksgiving celebration. "Two blocks are totally packed with people. We've had people fly in from Colorado and California," said Jensen.

Some famous folks have bellied up to Pete's bar. "Hemingway was here one time many, many years ago. I think Jimmy Fallon was here," said Jensen.

And so was author John Grisham. He not only wrote about the bar in his book, "The Brethren," but wrote part of the book in the bar while staying at the beach. "The daytime bartender said I recognize him. I know him. He was sitting in here writing. I didn't know what he was doing. But I think we were just convenient. A convenient location for him," said Jensen."

A few days later we drove 30 miles south to Green Cove Springs, Florida (our official, full-time residence). We had never been to our official residence and decided that, being so close, we should take a look.

A lonely external fuel tank from the NASA Space Shuttle Program and an abandoned 737 airframe, both sitting in a large field between the Smith Maritime Boatyard and the Green Cove Springs Marina, were novelties that caught our interest, but the rest of the town was nondescript.

While lounging at the marina pool the next afternoon we were invited to join several cruising couples for an outing that evening. They were going to see Paul and Christine, another cruising couple living on their boat at the marina, who were performing at a local Mexican restaurant roof-top bar. Paul, a fiddle player, and Christine, a vocalist, are part of a great-sounding trio and have frequent gigs throughout Jacksonville. It was a great evening and we made a lot of new friends.

A few days later I received a call from a woman who had seen the listing of Perfect Love on Sailboats.com. She immediately told me that she was not interested in buying the boat, but was very interested in learning more about the restoration process as she and her husband were in the middle of a similar effort; the restoration of a Hudson 45 ketch.

Her many questions eventually led to an invitation to tour our boat; which led to an invitation to tour their boat. In short, we became friends with Scott, a retired pilot, and Christine, a real estate attorney. In appreciation for all of the guidance that we provided to them, they took us out to dinner in Neptune Beach after touring their Hudson.

Tuesday, August 12

Bruce, the marina manager, had previously asked us to move our boat from slip 75 on 'B' dock to slip 94 on 'C' dock so, taking advantage of slack tide and no wind, we expertly backed Perfect Love out of slip 75 and into slip 94. Who says you can't back a Vagabond 47?

Thursday, August 14

We have a free Delta Airlines ticket that must be used before August 31st so we decide to take a last-minute trip to Denver to visit our son Jim and daughter-in-law Lyndsay. Our flight out of Jacksonville is 45 minutes late due to mechanical problems and we almost miss our connection out of Atlanta to Denver.

With tensions high and a lot of hustle, we make the connection, only to have that flight delayed by 55 minutes due to a passenger's medical emergency. We touch down in Denver 90 minutes behind schedule and arrive at Jim & Lyndsay's place at 11:30pm, mountain time.

The next day the four of us drive into the mountains for a kayaking adventure on Lake Dillon, just west of Keystone. It is a beautiful day but we get caught in west-bound traffic east of the Eisenhower Tunnel. By the time we get to Lake Dillon it is cloudy and cold with rain threatening. Kayaking is cancelled and we head to Breckenridge for a casual walk around town.

From Breckenridge we head for Keystone where an outdoor food and music festival is underway. The skies are clear again, the food is great and the music is even better. A band called 'The Brothers Comatose', out of San Francisco, is really outstanding.

Jim takes the Loveland Pass route on the trip back to Denver. We drive through the Arapaho Basin and stop at the Continental Divide to get a few pictures. The mountains are spectacular!

Monday, August 19

We move from Jim and Lyndsay's condo to Karen's house (Shirley's very good friend) for a few days. While Shirley and Karen are busy working during the day and catching up on 'girly' things in the evening, I keep myself busy walking Karen's dog and day tripping to Rocky Mountain National Park.

The evening before our flight back to Jacksonville I enjoy a wonderful one-on-one dinner with my son. Prior to this trip I had not seen Jim in over six months and, over drinks and great food, we spend some real quality time together, just father and son.

It was a great trip.

We get back to the boat around 11:00pm on Wednesday night after an exhausting day of travel. The next morning, while Shirley is working, I repack a bag for my upcoming solo trip to Cincinnati. Shirley is way too busy with work to take another trip and I need to see my 94-year-old Mother and catch up with our daughters and grand daughters in the Cincinnati area. I fly out of Jacksonville on Friday and touch down in Cincinnati at 7:30pm.

It is good for the soul to spend quality time with Mom, visit with my sisters Kathy and Julie, and catch up with our good friends Robert, Karen and Shawn. On Monday, while visiting our daughter Erica and her husband Shawn in Marysville, Ohio, I have the opportunity to inspect the progress that they have made on the restoration of their Island Trader 37 ketch. On Wednesday our daughter Jess and grand daughter Livy join us at Mom's for a visit and then lunch at a Mexican restaurant.

My last few nights are spent at our daughter Jamie's house where I have the opportunity to hang with grand daughters Lauren, Ali and Caroline. We play a round of 'Hand and Foot' the night before Caroline and Ali start their first day of the 8th grade. I am up early on the big day to make them my famous French Toast and then drive them to school.

Meanwhile, back in stormy Jacksonville, Shirley has been putting in 10-to-12 hour days on the phone, answering e-mails and making on-line adjustments. As her week drags on tropical storm Dorian, currently east of the Bahamas, grows in strength, becomes a category 3 hurricane and is predicted to head up the east coast of Florida with Jacksonville squarely in the "cone".

As my Friday departure approaches the hurricane predictions get progressively worse. Shirley tells me that our marina family is beginning to show signs of nervousness; both Shirley and I are anxious to be reunited and to begin our hurricane preparations. According to current predictions, it looks like we will have a good 36 hours to get everything battened down and to make our evacuation plans (if needed).

Shirley has been experiencing some wild weather back at the marina. Every afternoon for the past few days the very hot and humid late afternoon skies become dark and stormy.

Brief but heavy thunderstorms, accented with impressive chain lightning, roll through, cooling things off and setting the stage for some spectacular sunsets. Shirley, our official ‘boatographer’ captures the beautiful scenes. Not surprisingly, the XO has already begun hurricane preparations before my arrival.

Saturday, August 31

Hurricane Dorian is bearing down upon us; it is anticipated that the storm will make landfall in about 48 hours but the general location cannot be determined at this time. Shirley experienced hurricane Sandy in Annapolis several years ago but Dorian will be my first; I am nervous and excited. Fortunately, our marina is said to be a very good hurricane hole. We are approximately 22 miles from the ocean and the fetch in any direction is short.

Saturday afternoon we decide to drive to Neptune Beach to check out the ocean. Dorian is moving north very slowly, is still south of us and the eye wall is at least 30 miles off shore. The moody seascape is stunning and the kite boarders are taking full advantage of the wind and the waves; they are having a good time.

Dorian is really taking her time getting here and has been ravaging the Bahamas for several days now. I can’t imagine what it must be like to endure category 4 winds for over 36 hours; we all wonder if anything will be left. At least a half dozen of our marina friends have spent many winters in the Bahamas and have close friends who live there full-time; everyone is worried.

In the mean time, the marina hosts a Hurricane Watch Party. Everyone is expected to bring a dish while the marina supplies the wine, beer and soft drinks. The party is well attended and there are some very creative dishes including a dolphin fruit salad and "Dorian (taco) Dip".

There are quite a few experienced boaters at the marina who have lived through many hurricanes, including the destructive Irma 2 years ago, and watching the calm and measured approach taken by these veterans to secure their vessels has been educational and reassuring. I believe that Perfect Love is now prepared for the worst. She is well secured in a heavy, concrete floating dock; all fenders are strategically positioned, all lines are doubled (some tripled) and the deck has been completely stripped of anything that could possibly take flight in +100mph winds.

If Dorian is a category 2 (or higher) storm and takes direct aim at Jacksonville we will leave the boat for an appropriate shelter, otherwise we intend to stay with our good ship.

Sunday, September 1

We are still in the ‘kill zone’ of Dorian and, if the storm does not make the turn to the north that is predicted, it could get very ugly here in Jacksonville. The National Hurricane Center is now predicting that Dorian's eye wall will be about 50 miles off of the Jacksonville coast on Tuesday night. We hope that the predictions are correct, but all we can do is watch and wait.

Tuesday, September 3

Dorian is supposed to introduce herself to us sometime after midnight. It looks like the eye wall will be at least 50 miles off shore, maybe more, so the storm should not be too severe here at the marina. The weather is currently balmy, overcast with a 5-10knot breeze and low humidity; it is actually very comfortable outside. The boat is completely secured and we are ready for whatever comes our way.

Wednesday, September 4

It is now 2:00am, I have been up all night and intend to remain awake until the brunt of the storm has past, but things are still calm right now.

Shortly before 3:00am the wind suddenly begins gusting up to 30 knots and torrential rain starts to pound the deck. Here we go!!!

The fury lasts for about 2 hours and then, as the winds settle down, the rain stops. The extreme outer edge of the monstrous hurricane Dorian is now past us. We have had afternoon pop-up thunderstorms that packed a bigger punch; with less than 2 inches of rain we didn't even get a measurable storm surge. I am oddly disappointed, but relieved nonetheless.

Until next time, may our tomorrow bring fair winds and following seas.