Hilton Head Island: seventh circumnavigation 3

 Secure in the lee of Bermuda, which has an unusually long wind shadow, GANNET barely moved during the night and I slept well.  I woke a couple of times and went to the companionway where I saw the island where it was supposed to be and the green buoy where it was supposed to be.

The sun came up but the wind didn’t.

I ate my invariable sailing breakfast in the cockpit.  I had brought a bottle of grapefruit juice with me, but my other provisions—instant coffee; uncooked oatmeal; whey protein power; trail mix; dried fruit; powered milk—had been on board since at least before I had GANNET trucked from San Diego to Hilton Head the previous Labor Day weekend, and probably much longer.  They were all as tasty as ever, though some might disagree.

Through a bright, sunny, pleasant morning I waited, mostly reading Jonathon Raban’s BAD LAND in the cabin to stay out of the sun, going on deck from time to time to watch bubbles drift past on the outgoing tide and futilely look for any sign of wind.

I decided that if there were no wind by noon, when the tide would turn in our favor, I would lower the Torqeedo and power into the sound.  While my course the previous day had lots of curves and turns, I calculated that I had covered twenty-four miles and that I had ten more to go to GANNET’s slip.  I had no pressure of time.  No need to be back in the marina that day and could anchor in the sound and wait for wind on Thursday.  I just didn’t feel like staying where I was any longer.

A few minutes before noon I was kneeling at the stern preparing to tilt the Torqeedo into the water when I felt a breath on my back.  I turned and saw a line of darker wind ruffled water to our south, left the Torqeedo as it was, and made my way forward and raised the anchor.  It came up clean.  Hilton Head’s long white sand beach must extend offshore.

After lowering the anchor and rode deployment bag onto a plastic sheet on the v-berth, I raised sails and GANNET began to gather way.

For the first mile our course was north, then in the sound, northwest.  Wind on our beam steadily increased to twelve and fourteen knots, and moved forward when we turned.  Still smooth water, only 6” ripples.  More glorious sailing at 6 to 8 knots

 

Several rivers pouring into Port Royal Sound and the tides have carved out forty and fifty foot depths, but there are isolated and mostly unmarked shoals.  I am beginning to know these waters, but I continue to pay close attention to the depthsounder and the iSailor charts on my iPhone.

GANNET dashed along.  The contrast was great between this and the afternoon before and the eighteen hours we sat at anchor becalmed.  GANNET sails so well in almost any wind, but she does need some.

As we neared the red and green markers at the mouth of Skull Creek, the wind was blowing fourteen knots directly out.  I didn’t feel like short tacking the last 1.8 miles in the Intracoastal’s channel around a twisting bend in the creek, so I furled the jib, lowered the Torqeedo into the water and started it, and lowered the main.

A sand spit to the north of the creek entrance was covered with birds:  sea gulls, cormorants, and one pelican.

While GANNET’s two foot freeboard does not offer much windage, her ultralight weight does not carry far, and the headwind slowed us.

A few other boats passed, mostly power, but a few sail.  Those on board waved at the old man on his little boat.  I’m sure they thought how nice it is he still gets out on the water.  The old man waved back.

As we rounded the curve and pointed at the marina I put out fenders and dock lines and we powered slowly into GANNET’s slip, tying up at 2:30.  Circle completed. 

GANNET’s second circumnavigation and my seventh was by far the most uneventful and the most pleasant.  Amateurs seek adventures; professionals seek to avoid them.  We had no adventures.  We did have a fine time.