A Rough Passage - St. Augustine to Savannah, May 9-10

The automated voice of the NOAA weatherman had predicted rain at night, chance of thunderstorms (but they predict that every day) and wind from the north, in our face, the second day, but at only five to ten knots.  Light winds were also predicted by our other sources.  We left St. Augustine at the 10 am bridge opening and planned, based on distance divided by speed, to arrive at the red and white buoy marking the entrance to the well-buoyed channel leading to the Savannah River at about 6 to 9 am the next morning. This would give us the incoming tide to help push us the remaining 19 miles through the river’s delta and up to Savannah. We figured that beating into five to ten knots for just a few hours would not be very hard on us or the boat.  Or the cats!

During the first day, the wind was at our side but stronger than expected. With main and genoa we were doing 7.5 knots and ahead of schedule. We saw several merchant vessels at a distance, several pleasure fishing boats, and one sailboat, going the other way. And then we saw a large navy ship, perhaps a Destroyer Leader (DLG), crossing our bow from starboard to port, several miles away, apparently headed for Jacksonville. Later we saw it again on a course parallel to ours, overtaking us on our starboard side. This time two smaller but fast vessels, side by side, came toward us from our port side. The Communications Officer, Lene, went below to listen to the radio and we discovered that they were engaged in a naval exercise – and we were right in the middle of it! But they neither asked us to get out of the way nor shot at us, so all was OK. Eventually both turned away from us in different directions.

In late afternoon we saw and heard the thunder of a big cloud approaching us from the west and reefed the main, replaced the big genoa with the small jib and donned foul weather gear. It was not a particularly ugly black cloud but it caught us with heavier wind and heavy rain. I sent Lene below to keep dry. Dodging to starboard did not work so eventually we went to port to get through it quickly, and half an hour later it was past us.

Lene made up a big pot of rice with chopped up burgers; a very filling dinner at sea.

But then another cloud appeared behind us and this one was bigger, black, and ugly.

It was getting toward dark and we turned on the radar which showed, for its entire maximum 24 mile range, a wall of storms (yellow on the radar) approaching us from the west – a squall line, with the storm several miles thick. No way to dodge this one. 

High winds, heavy rain and stinging sleet were upon us and stayed with us for about an hour and then it was cold. A cold front had passed over us. And then the wind was from the north, as predicted, except about six hours too early and at 20 to 25 knots, not the 5 to 10 predicted. We used the engine and the reefed main during the night, but were only making about five to 5.5 knots and that speed was not directed toward our destination, but beating back and forth across the dotted line to our waypoint. And the computer was telling us that we would not arrive there until as late as 2 pm the next day and NOAA now predicted no abatement of the wind. Our other weather sources were not available because we were out of wifi range. Lene, all dressed up in warm clothes, life preserver, harness and tether clipped to cockpit jackline (the blue line under the surveilling Alphie, next day), started her watch. 

She decided that she could not do this alone and asked me to come up to the cockpit, so I donned such clothing and lay in the cockpit with her. We had closed the front clear plastic panel of the dodger to create some degree of protection from the wind in the forward part of the cockpit. The boat was crashing through big waves, rising up over them and then crashing down into them. The boat makes a lot of noise in such conditions. She creaks and groans constantly and when below particularly, sounds as if she is being hit with sledgehammers every 10 seconds or so.. Lene was afraid that it would break up at sea, with us 25 miles off the coast. But like a strong oak tree in a storm, which bends, but does not break, our boat stood up to the beating it took.

After a few hours Lene went below to lie down though she could not get to sleep, and I stood the watch alone. Like that song from Annie: The Sun Does Come Out Tomorrow and did so that following morning. Actually the eastern sky gets a glimmer of light well before the official time of sunrise. When it got light enough, I put out the small jib to help with the reefed main and engine to get us more speed, up to  6 – 6.5, but still at angles rather than directly toward our destination. Our first morning without coffee; peanut butter sandwiches was all Lene could manage.

Then about 10:30 am, I checked the paper charts again to plan for the portion of the voyage from the red and white buoy to and up the river to see if we could keep our sails up in the channel.  I zoomed in the chart plotter to the waypoint I had set in to compare the route from there up the river with the paper chart, but it didn't look like what I had expected. What the heck is going on here??? Do you remember that card in the Monopoly game: “The bank has made an error in your favor.” Well I had made an error in plugging in the waypoint the morning before, the waypoint that we had been heading for all day and night. Savannah’s entrance was almost ten miles (two hours) nearer than expected.  I couldn't wait to tell Lene about this error now in our favor.  I KNEW how happy this was going to make her feel! We tacked to starboard tack and headed almost directly for the new and corrected waypoint. In fact we were able to gain the tail end of the favorable tide for about two thirds of the 19 miles up the Savannah River and the early adverse tide is not very strong.  Finally things were really in our favor.

The river has been dredged to a depth of over 40 feet way past the city and the city’s port is reputed to be the second busiest on the east coast. We had seen a pilot boat heading out of the river toward a big freighter that was many miles behind us, and then pass us again, coming back in again after having deposited its pilot on the merchantman. And we saw the big merchantman getting closer to us.
The communications officer went below to call MSC on VHF channel 13 to try to accommodate the big guy. He said that he was OK for now, but he would be passing another giant going out round the next bend and would we please hug the right shore, which we did.

We arrived and tied up to the municipal dock which is parallel to River Street, had lunch at Huey’s, a New Orleans style restaurant, paid for four nights wharfage, cleaned up the boat, which had gotten messed up in the storm, and I fell asleep for a long quiet night.

We later received an e-mail from Bob and Laura aboard “Thai Hot.” They are also returning to the Harlem YC; we had last seen them in St. Martin. They got caught in the same storm for a longer period of time on a longer passage, from northern Florida to North Carolina. Thai Hot is a sturdier but slower boat than ILENE. They too, made it through the storm.

Posted from Beaufort SC.