Anchoring Off Cumberland

Home sweet home, our anchorage in Fancy Bluff Creek

Home sweet home, our anchorage in Fancy Bluff Creek

Cumberland Island will forever be a favorite for me, both because it’s the first place we’ve ever anchored, and also because of its undisturbed beauty. After a month at the marina in Brunswick, it was the perfect place to reset our minds to cruising again.

The ties to the dock are strong ones – for all three of us. This was the saddest we’ve seen Claire as we’ve left a harbor. It was partly the immediate thought of leaving a community that absolutely adored her. But she’s also getting older and understanding the lifestyle more as we continue to cruise. As much as we say that we hope we’ll see them again in the islands, she knows that it’s unlikely, or at least, it won’t be for a long while in kiddo time.

For us, there’s also the hesitation in leaving a known variable. Being at the dock is extremely convenient. The basics (water, electric) don’t run out, and changes in wind and weather (aside from a developing hurricane, of course) require a changing or tightening of some lines, at most. You aren’t married to the tide schedule and there’s no passing traffic to monitor. It’s just easier.

When we leave the dock, wherever we go, whatever we do, must be a better trade. And while leaving good friends will always be the toughest part of this lifestyle, what’s out there never disappoints.

An hour into our cruise from Brunswick, Claire was still understandably upset by our departure. But as we set our course on the Atlantic, we began to see cannonball jellyfish just below the surface. At first it was a few, and then a few more. And then we realized we were sailing through a bloom that stretched for miles. Claire’s spirits were lifted, as were ours. As we rounded the inlet at Fernandina Beach to head into Cumberland Island, three dolphins kept pace alongside our bow. And that’s to say nothing for what we found on the island the next day.

We anchored in a little cove just off of the southwest corner of the island, with a secluded beach just a five-minute dinghy ride away. In a small stretch of shoreline, we found crabs and shrimp and recent prints from birds, raccoons and possibly wild pigs. We hiked through the maritime forest, watching armadillos hunt through the brush for snacks, and had a picnic lunch at the Dungeness ruins, what remains of a mansion from the Gilded Age. The absolute highlight of the day were the wild horses we passed as they enjoyed a leisurely afternoon. More than 100 live on the 17.5-mile-long island. The pictures at the end of this post show the beauty of the place that my words fall short of conveying.

The excitement was not without its stresses, though. We finally broke the seal and spent our first two nights at anchor, and she held beautifully. But the calm sea state during our first night changed dramatically midday Friday (as we knew it would). Winds built from the north-northeast to a steady 20-25mph and the waves kicked up, a steady thump all night long as they broke across our transom. The boat again held just fine, but it was an evening of constant vigilance with our anchor alarm, making sure we didn’t start dragging toward the few other boats anchored just north of us, or the shoreline. As we gain more experience and confidence with anchoring, the stress will decrease.

After keeping an eye on the marine forecast for a few days, noting the steady projected winds from the northeast, studying the local charts, and leaning on the knowledge of friends who had transited just a few days before, we decided to make way south Saturday morning on the Intracoastal Waterway. Waves of 4-8 feet were predicted out on the Atlantic for at least the next two or three days, and though there would have been plenty for us to do on Cumberland Island if we chose to wait it out, the anchorage wasn’t nearly as comfortable as when we had arrived, and we needed to make way south again, if possible.

Transiting the Intracoastal – yet another feather in the Clarity cap. The five-hour run was a whole different kind of adventure. But more about that in my next post.

For now, we are tucked down below this chilly November evening, a few games of Candyland just finished, with the wind whistling through the rig and the soft crackling of krill munching on our hull.

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First Family Sail

DSCN2682There were times in the last month that I thought, we are never going to leave this dock. Our boat is literally putting down roots in this slip. Projects will weigh us down and drown us before we ever fill her sails.

But she sails. Beautifully. Comfortably. This floating home and her crew are finally finding their bearings.

After a very busy and exhausting month, all the way through the night before departure, we cast lines on Thursday morning and guided the boat out to the Atlantic Ocean. We had tested and readied as much as we could with the engine and other critical systems, but truthfully, we weren’t completely sure how the day would unfold. Would the engine quit? Would there be problems with the rigging? We haven’t developed the trust in this boat yet that we had in the Pearson. But this first family sail was the beginning.

With a slow but steady breeze from the east, we put up both sails and made our way north with some aid from the engine. Sure, hoisting the main took more effort, since the sail is older and baggier and doesn’t slide easily through its track. And yes, it was really choppy through the channel out to the ocean Claire and I both started feeling it and once we were out, though the waves were minimal, there was a steady swell. But once we got the sails hoisted and the boat flattened out, so did our tummies. A bit out of practice, we are reminding ourselves how to best tackle these longer day passages. We didn’t need a perfect sail; we needed an uneventful one, and we got it.

We made it to our slip in Fort Pierce at dusk, exhausted but renewed, and have been exploring town the last few days with some boat projects thrown in. The plan is to leave tomorrow for Port Canaveral, roughly 60 nautical miles north.

The vast to-do list is still there, the challenges and adjustments to our new life continue, but finally with some forward momentum, it feels as though a huge weight has been lifted.

It’s funny – we’ve been at this a little more than a month now, and looking back, we’ve already come such a long way, earning our stripes as we go.

 

Changes in Latitudes…

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Our little fish, snorkeling in the lagoon off of Peanut Island

We’ve only been here two weeks, and it’s fascinating to me how much my attitude has changed on things that used to be so important to me.

I’m sure part of this was my own personal hang-ups, but back in Oak Park, I would never leave the house without my makeup on and my hair done. Here, with this heat and with our daily routine, I’ve taken to wearing no makeup the vast majority of the time. It’s so hot morning through night that it all sweats off anyway, for one. For two, I’m wearing sunscreen all day, which doesn’t mix well with makeup. For three, we’re swimming all the time, so mascara is pointless. And four, I’ve just come to a point where I don’t care. And you know what? I’m pretty happy about that.

Another thing that was important to me back at home was my clothing – cute dresses, skirts paired with trendy shirts, anything from Anthropologie. Here, what’s comfortable and airy takes the cake. Yesterday, I returned our rental car in shorts and a tank top that prior to moving aboard, I never wore out of our bedroom. And skirts and dresses while constantly climbing on and off and up and down the boat, or on and off the dinghy? Not practical.

Aaron’s also never worn so little clothes in his life – shirtless for the vast majority of the day. And he hasn’t worn socks in 30 days – he actually marked the calendar June 30 – and he hasn’t done his hair in weeks. “What comes out is what it is,” he says. I think that’s an excellent approach to life in general.

Our expectation of a “comfortable temperature” has also changed. Yes, we have air-conditioning on the boat and it has been working well (knock on wood), but we keep it at around 82 or 83 down below (yes, that is dramatically cooler than outside). And of course, we want to get outside, too. So, basically, we avoid the sun midday, but otherwise just put up with the heat – all three of us. A constant state of stickiness has become the norm, and we cool down not with air-conditioning a lot of the time, but with a rinse-down. The first few days, Claire understandably complained about the heat even just from the walk from the parking lot to the boat. Now, she rarely mentions it. Such a trooper, that kiddo.

The “schedule” of a day, for the most part, has also fallen by the wayside. Already, we have to remind ourselves what day of the week it is, and we usually don’t know what time it is. Eating has taken an interesting turn, in that we just don’t do a whole lot of it (save for Claire, for whom eating is an ongoing highlight of her day 🙂 ). Aaron and I either get wrapped up in what we’re doing, or it’s just plain too hot and we don’t feel like eating much more than something light. Aaron also doesn’t have a set time for lunch, like he did when his days at the office included his lunch hour. We’re drinking a whole lot more water, though. Probably the amount we should have been drinking all along.

Oh, and Netflix and Amazon Prime? Cable? What are those again? A staple of my day back in Oak Park (I’ll admit it) has become not even a factor of life here. The marina’s Wi-Fi doesn’t extend to our dock, and though we could connect with Aaron’s cell hotspot to stream, we just, haven’t.

Daily life has become a mixture of projects to tackle, deadlines to meet, and exciting adventures. Since my last post, we’ve found quite a few more issues with the boat, and some that we knew about already have become much bigger in scope. But we’re trying to take it all in stride and pace ourselves as best we can, with the goal of getting this boat off the dock sooner than later.

And we made one very, very important purchase – our brand new RIB (rigid-inflatable boat), which will serve as our family car! More on that in the next post. We want to give Claire as much ownership in our new lifestyle as possible, so we decided to let her name the dinghy. It’s been pretty hilarious hearing her additions to the shortlist. I’m planning a little boat-christening party and name unveiling. You can probably imagine some of the contenders :).

Life is changing quickly for us here! Can’t wait to see what a few more weeks bring.