We drifted for a few minutes before a slight exhalation filled the sails and GANNET began to slip along at two to three knots. At least there were no waves to collapse the sails. The Atlantic was as smooth as had been the sheltered water on the landward side of the island. I wished for more wind, but at least we were moving, and there are worse places to be on a sunny winter afternoon than on a small sailboat gliding across glassy water.
As the hours passed I watched the shore a couple of miles to port and two ships a few miles to starboard heading for the Savannah River and began to consider where I would spend the night.
GANNET’s outboard is an electric Torqeedo. I like it for several reasons. It breaks down into three parts and is easy to mount and remove from the transom. It is quiet. It is clean. It precludes my having to carry gasoline and oil on board. It’s battery can be charged from GANNET’s solar powered electrical system. But it has drawbacks in that it is expensive and has limited range. Just what GANNET’s range was at that moment I was uncertain. I had three Torqeedo batteries on board. One was ten years old and hadn’t be used in a long time and might be dead. The other two were probably good for 6-8 miles each powering at 2.5-3 knots in smooth water and not against wind or tide.
At 5 PM we were nearing the north end of Hilton Head Island and the entrance into Port Royal Sound. Sunset would be at 6. I could certainly lower the Torqeedo back into the water and power into the sound and anchor there for the night, but the Atlantic Ocean was as smooth as a good harbor and I was reasonably certain that the night would be calm. Ten minutes before sunset we were in 35’ of water a mile and a half off the northeast corner of the island and a half mile south of a buoy marking the dredged channel into the sound. I went forward, pulled the Spade anchor and deployment bag onto deck and anchored. As I made my way back aft I l was facing east. The nearest land was Bermuda eight hundred miles away. I figured it would provide sufficient shelter and went below to turn on the masthead anchor light and pour myself a drink which I took on deck with Boom 2 speakers and sipped and listened to Bach.
Dinner was freeze dry beef stew bought three years earlier with the water heated on the JetBoil stove. Old times.
At sea I sleep on the windward pipe berth. Well we were technically at sea, but neither berth was to windward and I had removed the berths to have the covers replaced, so I retired for a quiet night on the v-berth. A few years earlier the eye of Force Five Hurricane Matthew passed near where we were anchored. Timing is almost everything.
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