From Eliz. City we got a late, 11 A.M. start, due to marketing.  It was mostly motoring but we put up the genoa three times for about half of the passage, once even turning off the motor. We arrived at the anchorage after the sun had set, but before it got dark. Our route was to continue down the Pasquotank River, traverse Albemarle Sound and go south (up) the Alligator River to a place off Deep Point which is deep enough to anchor, moderately protected from potential winds, outside the ICW channel and reachable before dark. The little white space to the left of the word "River" in the upper right quadrant of this chart segment hit the spot. It is 2/3 of a mile long and about 700 feet wide at its widest spot.

There are about 8 boats here. We are in 11 feet of water with 60 feet of chain out. We have a potential problem because when we tried to use reverse gear to set the anchor, we heard only strange sounds. So we laid out sixty feet of chain, which, with the weight of the anchor, held us in place all night in very gentle air. If we had dragged, there was a lot of room behind us toward the channel in which the anchor, hopefully would have caught. No internet access here. Dinner, card games (Lene almost always wins), reading and in the morning we emptied the aft compartment so I could take a look at the "no reverse gear" problem. I saw how, by disconnecting the end of the cable from the shift lever at the helm, one could manually shift the boat at the engine itself. And while we had access, I added distilled water to those of the cells of the batteries that looked like they could use a few sips.
Among the boats here were "Whisper," who we met in Elizabeth City, and their buddy boat "Piper."

In fact, two of the three adorable kids who played with Witty belong to Piper, not Whisper. We accompanied them most of the next day, toward Slade Creek through the Alligator-Pungo Canal and somewhat down the Pungo River, but they had elected to go elsewhere the second day.
The AP canal is quite a bit wider and almost twice as deep as the Great Dismal Swamp Canal.

Our only scary moment was crossing under the Wilkerson Bridge, near its southern end; unlike all the other fixed bridges over the ICW, which are 65 feet high, this one got short changed and is only 64 feet high -- and we are 63.5 feet high!

Slade Creek is wide and over a mile long. We got here first, at about 2:30 after a totally motoring day, and anchored in the first bend after entry, where the wind protection was good, in eight feet of water and were later joined by two other boats. There is lots of room here.

Then chores: I dove into the brownish, tannin dyed water and cut several lengths of line from around our propeller, but the boat still makes a chattering noise in reverse. We will get this checked out in Oriental, our next stop. (Also the harvesting of leaves in the Great Dismal Swamp Canal whacked our wind speed and direction instruments making them even more in need of calibration.)  I went up the mast to reattach the halyard for the Harlem Yacht Club burgee because the halyard had worn through in the strong winds in Yorktown, completed the wiring of our two million candlepower flashlight for finding buoys at night, hung a picture, fixed a cabinet and organized our cabinets. This last in the course of looking for the two white LED interior lights that we replaced with red ones to preserve night vision. Lene does not like living in a red light district. But we have not found the white ones yet.
The problem here is flies, lots of them. Lene killed about a hundred that had invaded ILENE. She is fully screened but they got in while we were underway and the companionway was open.
Also Alphie gave Lene a scare. She was missing, Lene was crying. I looked in both the aft end and the forward end of the stack pack tube that holds our mainsail when it is not in use. No Alphie. Finally I unzipped the top of the tube to raise this sail and there she was, in the middle, perturbed that her nap disturbed.

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We got underway from Jekyll late relative to the tide, at 8:30, due to the need to fuel up. But the first  time we went aground it was solely my fault: Green on the right northbound in the ICW,... I just wasnt thinking. But no biggie; we backed off easily and quickly. The second time it was the fault of the lack of dredging in the ICW: we were in the center of the channel and while we were not stopped, the alarm was ringing and the fathometer said we had only five feet of water so we were dragging the bottom six inches of our keel through eight inches of very soft sediment. But after the first two miles of the days passage, depth was no longer a problem.
St. Simons Sound, gateway to the commercial city of Brunswick, is quite deep. And the tide flowing out, southeast, was favorable, very favorable, so we were motoring at over nine knots. Once clear of the channel we motor sailed during the morning but once the wind came up (a broad starboard reach) we sailed without motor in the afternoon toward St. Catherines Sound. A very pleasant sail under warm and sunny skies. Other than two shrimpers who were working St. Simons Inlet, and a sailboat we were catching up to off St. Catherines Sound, we saw no other boats. We even enjoyed good tide after the jibe, going west into St. Catherines Sound, making eight knots with just the main.
We had started with the plan to go to Wahoo Creek in the Sapelo Inlet. (Most inlets around here are named after the rivers that flow out of them and most are named for Saints: John, Mary, Catherine, Simon -- maybe it was from the period when Spain was influential here?) But while out there, we found that St. Catherines was only ten miles further and we had lots of time to get there before dark, so plan B went into effect.  Nearing arrival, we saw rain clouds gathering to the west, ahead. When we set our anchor in Walburg Creek a light rain had begun and while I was attaching the snubber and securing things it got torrential. Nothing to do when the boat was finally secure but take off all clothing -- everything was saturated -- towel off and put on fresh clothing before dinner.
Walburg Creek is bound by marshes on both sides and sparsely inhabited on land or by boat. We had a scare in the middle of the night when the tide had gone out and we showed only eight feet of water, rather than fourteen, and were dangerously close to the south shore. The wind had come up and the tide was flowing. I got Lene up and she started the engine. I pulled up the anchor, Lene moved us maybe 50 yards to a better spot (there was lots of room) we dropped and set it and, after watching, we went back to sleep. Lene, who edits these posts, criticized me for failing to express our sense of terror while picking up and re-anchoring in inky blackness with current flowing fast and wind howling. She is correct.
In the morning the plan had been to sail to Bull Creek, up in Tybee Roads, which is the entrance to the Savannah River, near Hilton Head. The outside route would have been 43.2 miles as compared to 48.9 via the hairpin turns of the ICW. But the wind was from the north at up to 20 knots and especially for the 20 mile plus outside part of the passage Lene was not enamored of beating into that stuff on a cold grey day with rain forecast. And I was not looking forward to it either. There is a saying to the effect that "Gentlemen do not beat." Beating into strong wind in the ocean beats up the boat and the boaters. So Plan B: inside. But blocking the way was Hell Gate. It is a portion of the ICW, a canal, only .6 miles long, connecting the Ogeechee and Vernon Rivers. But with our draft, we cannot get through except at very near high tide. And the tide was already flowing out and we had a couple more hours to go, so: Plan C: Redbird Creek is a totally uninhabited creek through the marshes and only 4 miles from Hell Gate. It was tricky in Redbird when the strong wind was blowing from the north while the tidal current ran the other way. ILENE did not know how to lie on her anchor. The good news is that the anchor held. No one came through by day or night; it was just us and the kitties. And very dark at night, being for from civilization. We arrived in the late morning with plans to leave in mid afternoon, but stayed the night. The views: N, S, E and W; are impressive for their blandness. At low tide one is six feet lower and sees less other than the banks which are closer.

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