And now, we rest.

Change of plans: instead of pushing on for another 4-5 days to reach Charleston before the holidays, we decided to reroute up the Cape Fear River and put in to Wilmington for a month. Simply put, we're exhausted, and a break is overdue. Since Wilmington is a city new to us both, we've got plenty of exploring to do in the next two weeks before heading north (by car) for the holidays. More posts are forthcoming to catch you up on our time in New Bern, Morehead City, and seeing our first dolphins(!).

Scratch That

Another week, another gale. Alas, this weather is the trouble with doing this trip as winter stealthily stalks our every move, reminding us that an October or even September departure would've made for friendlier skies. But winter wasn't contributing to our savings account, so here we are. Plans to make haste toward Wilmington are out the window, and instead we have moved from Beaufort's Town Creek Marina (not cheap at $1.50/foot) to neighborhing Morehead City, where we've tied up at the Sanitary Restaurant (closed for cleaning; how appropriate!) for a mere $10. Having just checked the forecast to find 40 knots of wind on the menu, we made the easy decision to stay another night and perhaps wander off in search of a movie theater tomorrow. Until then, we'll continue to bask in the heat of our woodstove, curl up with our books, and listen to the krill crackling as they snack upon growth on our hull.

On the Road Again

This morning, Jeremy and I left behind the comfort and security of the ineffably hospitable town of New Bern to return to the daily grind of the ICW. The week we spent there was just what we needed: we slept late (past 8:00 one day!), covered every inch of the historic downtown thrice over (by foot and bike), overate on Thanksgiving (we are Americans, after all), and had our fuel injectors rebuilt to stop the engine from overheating (we hope). We're spending a windy night in Beaufort and will press on in the morning in hopes of reaching Wilmington in time for the lighting of the world's largest living Christmas tree on Thursday. How could we pass that up?

A Typical Day Underway

The alarm sounds sometime before 6:30. The snooze function is rarely employed more than once, but sometimes it's already One of Those Days before dawn, and there's just no such thing as willpower. Jeremy is almost always out of bed first; Colleen has a habit of languishing just a bit longer than she should, though perhaps she does this to avoid having to navigate her way into the engine compartment to check the oil. After that's done and the engine is fired up, a minimum of three layers are donned. This is usually one layer too many for the person who is about to spend 20 minutes cranking the (manual) windlass to bring some 120 feet of anchor chain plus muddy anchor aboard. Once the anchor clears the surface of the water, we're off and running. From this point on, we begin taking turns doing 2-3 hour shifts at the helm while enjoying a light breakfast. Being as civilized as we are, there's almost always freshly brewed coffee and tea to be had, which was especially necessary when morning temperatures hovered in the low 40's.

When I'm not on the helm, I've been passing the time rediscovering things like the quadratic equation to help me with the math problems in my GRE prep book. When that suffering is over with, I read voraciously and practice harmonica until I feel lightheaded (my specialties include barely recognizable pieces by Simon & Garfunkel and Jimmy Buffett). I occasionally partake in some light exercise that includes sit-ups, lunges down the side decks, and modified push-ups against the cabin house. Jeremy likes to point out that these are not "real" push-ups, but he is easily silenced when I ask how many push-ups he's done that day. Ever the captain, Jeremy has a more difficult time relaxing, and often spends an unhealthy amount of time looking out for the safety of his crew by obsessing over weather and charts. Fortunately for his blood pressure, he too enjoys the company of books and Finn the cat. As for that furry companion of ours, his is the life of Riley: naps are interrupted only by meals and those times when he so kindly deigns to let us pet him. Sometimes he condescends to join us on deck, always finding a warm spot in the sun where Jeremy and I can watch him take solace from the wind that burns our cheeks. At least he earns his keep by helping us set sails and coil lines (see above).

Sometime in the middle of the day, the hungriest person will fetch some lunch, which typically features sandwiches or last night's dinner. All the while, our shifts continue as sails are set, trimmed, struck, set again, and at last furled and covered for the day. When we've arrived at the anchorage we've selected (usually something recommended by our invaluable guide published by ICW cruising guru Skipper Bob), the hook is dropped and then watched with bated breath to be sure it has set properly. Once the deck has been cleared of the days books, charts, and discarded layers, we prepare for dinner, the most anticipated part of the day. Sometimes, this meal is impressively sophisticated: mushroom tortellini tossed with broccoli, olive oil, and Parmesan (and paired with white wine, of course), or a colorful vegetable-and-tofu stir fry in peanut sauce. Still other nights reflect our tremendous hunger and exhaustion as we whip out the Kraft macaroni and cheese or devour canned soup and grilled cheese.

Bedtime comes especially early--10 PM at the very latest, if someone hasn't already fallen asleep on a settee--so post-dinner activities rarely include more than dish washing (we're very good at taking turns), reading, and email-checking when there's a cellular internet signal. If we stopped early (before 4:00), we might try to fit in some housekeeping. The other night, Jeremy fiddled with the engine, while I cleaned the toilet--another activity we share, and we never forget whose turn it is on that one either. Fortunately, there's always room to sit down, relax, and enjoy a view like this: