Following the moon

The full moon arrived as scheduled over the Northeast Point of Bull Island. It burned through the horizon haze, and rose into an orange ball. It’s point of arrival would be my destination the following day, and the outlook promised fantastic conditions for the journey.

The next morning the landing was quiet and the wind variable as I set out in the flow of the outgoing tide. I used my paddle to cross the ICW ahead of a snowbird motoring up from the south. We were soon sailing in the light wind from the east in a slow hush, patches of wind softly fluttering on the creek’s surface. The creek in minutes filled with the breeze: Kingfisher’s hull hissed through the water, the air’s movement sounded around the brim of my hat, and my face broke out in a grin of pleasure. Strong winds were not anticipated – this movement was enough for the windward work out to and across Bulls Bay to the Northeast Point. At the Shark Hole, a loggerhead breathed, and floated on the surface, its carapace dark and ancient. The creek’s outgoing waters emptied into the Bay, and we sailed out to the open and relatively smooth waters. The east breeze on the outgoing tide suggested fine conditions for a longer Bay crossing to the northeast, but instead I chose an island exploration for the day. Another thirty minutes of smooth steady windward sailing brought us up on the Point’s beach.

We shared the Point with no other boats but plenty of bird life. Ruddy turnstones fed along the strand, and a pair of vultures feasted on a horseshoe crab. I wondered if the previous night’s full moon had seen the riot of these ancient animals mating – their carcasses littered the high tide line. The Point’s projection contained a usual grouping of birds: brown pelicans, royal terns, laughing gulls, black skimmers. I pulled on long pants, and crossed the dune field for the access into the maritime forest and dikes surrounding Jacks Creek. The clothing addition paid off – there was a greeting from a few mosquitoes and deer flies in the woods. From the west dike, the draining of the Jacks Creek impoundment for the building of a cross dike revealed features not previously seen. At the end of the dike before the next section of maritime forest, a metal pole with flagging indicated the terminus of the new dike on this side.

Views from the pools along Alligator Alley into Jacks Creek displayed flats and shallow water well suited for the many opportunistic wading birds. Pool #2 maintained an adequate water level and its usual density of alligators. Across from pool #2, alligators had carved out through their travels a muddy canal thoroughfare, and one followed another toward the dike. The breach remained in the dike by pool #3, and will not be fixed until later this year. (Please note the damage makes this section of Alligator Alley impassible).

On the Lighthouse Road, past the maritime forest behind the Boneyard, the construction of the cross dike from the eastern side had begun in anticipation of the inevitable washing out of the most exposed eastern dike. Several trucks were parked on the road, and I saw from a distance three men after lunch heading back out to their track hoes to resume the dike building. The beach was not far ahead at the “Little Boneyard”, and I took the opportunity to cool off in the ocean. I only realized later that I had bypassed the Boneyard on this trip, a place usually high on visitors’ priorities to see. I passed the last tidal creek cutting through the beach at low tide, and crossed without problem after viewing the Bull Island waterfall created by a shelf of marsh sediment.

Close to the Point I headed out to the beach’s edge to inspect the channel running out between the beach and shoals to the ocean for future navigation.  I walked farther to get an even better perspective, and encountered in the clear shallow water just feet from the edge a patrolling bonnet head shark. It continued to swim back and forth along this area, and I noticed on its left rear flank a large fresh wound from a bite. I recalled the opening of a new exhibit at the South Carolina Aquarium, Shark Shallows, where visitors will be able to touch bonnet heads, and I could almost do so with this shark.

Kingfisher was still alone on the other side of the Point when I arrived. The outgoing tide had left the hull up high on the intertidal zone, but the slope allowed gravity to help in the drag to the water. With the tide now turned and the SE wind behind, we ran across the smooth Bay, sighting one loggerhead on the sail. Once into Andersonville Creek, I spotted a group of diamondback terrapins in a small side creek, and one after the other the turtles slid down the muddy bank on their tumble into the water.  Lunar forces pulled the waters toward the sail’s end, marked by the plunge of a pelican to the north, a dolphin breathing to the south, and black skimmers on a mud flat to starboard.