CHAPTER FORTY FIVE: THE FOG BLOG

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE: THE FOG BLOG

Yesterday morning the Admiral got up about 6:30 a.m. to check on the weather for travel from Hilton Head to Thunderbolt. We were docked right near a very tall and long bridge. But it wasn’t there when the Admiral looked at 6:30. Between Slow Motion and the bridge a dense fog had descended/arisen and wiped out all visibility, except what you could see and reach at arm’s length. We’ve never taken Slow Motion out on to a waterway in fog. We have radar, but do all the other boats? If you’ve ever driven on Route 5 in California and run into the “Tule” fog, you know that the only safe course is to pull over and wait until the sun burns it off. Fortunately, we only had about 25-30 miles to go from Hilton Head to Thunderbolt, so we could play the waiting game with the sun and the fog. Around 9:45 a.m. it was clear as far as we could see down Broad Creek heading into the Calibogue Sound. So at 10:00 a.m. we pushed off in what appeared to be bright sunshine.

But wait, this is the Fog Blog for a reason. You guessed it, as we got to the juncture of Broad Creek and the Calibogue Sound, the fog was lying in wait, and it ambushed us just as we entered the Sound.  Suddenly everything was gone – no coastlines, no skyline, no waterway – and it was very, very quiet. The radar did not show any boats around. But really, who would be crazy enough to be out in this dense fog? Oh yeah, we were that crazy. I went to the prow of the boat and scanned the horizon, such as it was, from right to left, left to right. The Admiral stayed in the flying bridge monitoring the radar and doing his own scanning. We saw the sun as an indistinct circle of white somewhere behind the gray/white fog that swirled around Slow Motion. We traveled at a very slow speed, so that there was barely any sound emanating from Slow Motion’s mighty diesel engines. It was like being in a glider, I suppose, but less noisy – no wind. We continued gliding through this foggy world straining to hear any sound of any engine within a half mile of us. We welcomed each day marker when we came upon them shrouded in their own foggy robes.  With the help of our chart plotter we stayed in the ICW channel, which was plenty deep (thank God). And we noticed incremental changes in the density of the fog, as the sun burned through some of the outer layers. That fog continued to surround us for at least a half hour more – it only seemed like an eternity.

Now, this is for you kids at home: DON’T GO CRUISING IN THE FOG! We were lucky. It was a Sunday morning and presumably everyone was in church. We will not venture out into the fog again. Repeat 10 times, take an Aleve and take a nap.

Once the fog lifted and the sun made its appearance, the Admiral increased our speed a little bit. We were trying to save our fuel, after pushing Slow Motion for 66 miles from Charleston to Beaufort. So fuel-saving speed is about 7 miles per hour. That’s an eight plus minute mile for the joggers/runners in the reading audience. The best I could ever do was nine minute miles, finishing most of the 10 K’s I ran in about 56 minutes. Once I ran a mile in 6 minutes 45 seconds, and it felt like I was flying. It was at the start of a 10 K, where all the runners were just glommed together at the starting line. I was standing next to my brother in law, who runs six minute miles, and I got caught up in the excitement of the start, the adrenaline was flowing, and I actually thought I could keep up with him. Not a chance, and as I recall, every mile after the first mile was very painful and took at least 9 minutes or more to run. But I’ll never forget the exhilarating feeling of running like the wind. Eat your heart out, Paul Ryan.

On Sunday, which actually turned out to be a “sun” day, we arrived at Thunderbolt Marina near Savannah. The Admiral took an immediate liking to this place. They have a huge boatyard right next to the Marina – lots of tools and manly things (hearing the sound of Tim Allen, the Tool Man, in the background). The bathrooms and showers are spotless and you can shower in privacy. The water is very hot. The pressure is good. I miss the amenities of Belhaven – the fluffy towels, the hair dryer, the shampoo dispenser, the warm shaggy mats – but that’s just fluff for the Admiral, who likes the bare tile just fine, doesn’t use shampoo and, God forbid, would never defile his hair with a hair dryer. So for the Admiral the bathrooms rate an A plus, for me a B plus. We’re tied up to a floating dock next to a wall covered with shellfish shells. We see them at low tide, but the tide change here is 7 feet, so much of the time they’re covered. We have the place pretty much to ourselves, except for the occasional yacht crew members who wander over to the bench near Slow Motion to smoke – yuck! But, when asked, they moved away. We’re sure they are not allowed to smoke on the 200 foot yachts that they crew. So they tried to find a place to smoke in the “low rent” part of the marina only to realize that smoke bothers everyone, whatever class, gender, ethnicity or religion.

The Admiral spent much of the day making Slow Motion look pretty again. He has found the perfect mix of lemon juice, lime juice and water that works like a charm cleaning off the “tea” stains at the water line of Slow Motion’s bow. Her light brown moustache is gone – she looks like a lady again. That mixture also worked wonders on the rust marks around the bolts on the swim board. There are lots and lots of cleaners sold at West Marine for exorbitant prices, but some of them say that they should not be released into the waters where we’re cruising. That is weird – a boat store sells boat cleaners that are too strong to be released into the water. At any rate, we love our pelicans and our porpoises and all the other wildlife we come across, so we’re trying to use the least stringent cleaners, but still get the job done. If you have any suggestions, let us know.

Speaking of pelicans and porpoises, we continue to witness great performances by both of these amazing animals. Yesterday, the porpoises led us through the fog to the sunshine, then cavorted in front of Slow Motion for most of the thirty miles. Today one white headed pelican entertained us by flying around Slow Motion and the nearby dock, then diving like a kamikaze pilot straight down into the water with enormous impact, upon spotting a desirable fish. I can’t imagine what kind of headache that “Peli” has at the end of the day, after dive bombing for hours on end. The Admiral says it’s either dive bomb for fish or die hungry. Pelicans apparently need to eat all day. What was that rhyme: “His bill can hold more than his belly can?” I don’t think so. He fishes the old fashioned way – one fish at a time.  We have yet to capture him on film, but we’re hoping in the next few days that the fish in our immediate area remain plentiful, so we can share the pelican’s amazing dives with you – better than the cliff divers in Acapulco, I swear.

I’m off the Arizona tomorrow for a visit with my sister and her husband. I’ll be making kiffels with Sue and whatever else she feels like baking for the holidays. Meanwhile, the Admiral has plenty of projects to complete on Slow Motion in Thunderbolt, and he gets to enjoy the daily shows of our pelican. We’re here until the 19^th, when we continue south through some of the most dangerous waters on the ICW. Stay tuned.