A morning with full sun, no-seeums, and without wind at the landing. A kingfisher flew by; the outgoing tide had two hours before dead low. I had a need to launch at that moment before the landing became dominated by pluff mud. I cast off without raising sail, and unconsciously began paddling while standing. Kingfisher found a balance with the rudder down and daggerboard out for staying on course with my paddling, though a longer paddle was in order.
At the initial bend in Anderson Creek, the first puffs of wind arrived, prompting a quick raising of the sail. We were soon underway without paddling, and with the push of tide. In a sailing craft, experiencing the birth of the wind is always pleasurable.
At the major fork in the creek, we headed to the southwest, into the rising wind and outgoing tide, and toward the ferry passage. I stayed away from the creek edges armored with oysters, yet still managed to run aground, my daggerboard strike bringing Kingfisher to a dead stop. It became an ongoing negotiation of tacking before shallow water, keeping the boat moving, and optimizing each wind shift. Entering a narrower straight section in the passage, the negotiation became critical, including raising the daggerboard upon approaching each bank, and after tacking lowering it again, only able to hold each tack at most thirty seconds. I finally made the next creek where I could head off, sailing freely on a reach. I was through with the upwind battle, but my relaxation resulted in cutting a curve too close, and finding the bottom with another dead stop.
The remainder of the passage to the public dock on Bull Island was routine, the favorable winds indicating good fortune for the day. Kingfisher was the only boat at the public dock; two boats were in the restricted refuge basin. Disembarking involved changing from sailing to hiking garb. Walking off the dock, a flight of ibises passed closely overhead, reminding me I was in a wildlife refuge. Planning a familiar walk of 10K length, I made my way out the Beach Road, noting the young alligators congregating at the water control structure. At the intersection with the Mills Road, the tiny pond on the left appeared walkable due to the green surface of duck weed.
At the beach, a lull in the wind had the ocean surface slick, and a wide intertidal area prepared for the incoming tide. With the diminished wind, the temperature spiked, and the eighty degrees pushed a daily historic record high. As I entered the Boneyard, the tide was beginning to rise. A capsized live oak presented an immense root ball. Climbing up over a row of beached logs at the high tide line, I entered the road system, passing an old and illegal fire ring.
Passing Moccasin Pond, an anhinga circled. Along the Lighthouse Road dike, an osprey flew along the strand. A view to the west across a finger of Jacks Creek showcased migratory waterfowl, and more sections of the impoundment.
Walking across the cross dike on Jacks Creek, a path only available in the past decade, I recalled past boating on these waters. Prior to Hurricane Hugo one had the ability to paddle out to the island, come through a narrow channel in the marsh, and portage across the western dike and enter into the Jacks Creek impoundment. Entering that freshwater world, we paddled throughout, and landed on the eastern dike for a short walk to the beach. Small outboards (jon boats) also could navigate the marsh channel, leave their motors on a wooden rack, switch to an electric motor, and enter the ponds for fishing. The cross dike has now provided a path to view a vast diversity of wildlife: migratory waterfowl, raptors, wading birds, shorebirds, and sizable alligator gatherings. Leaving the dike at the observation tower, a pair of vultures were an ominous sentinel overhead.
Through the maritime forest on the roads leading back to the Dominick House, water ponded everywhere. Carolina jessamine bloomed in abundance, and pine trees were swollen with pollen, a sign of a green blizzard ahead for the Lowcountry. Overhead a loud croaking signaled the passing of a great blue heron above the canopy.
Last off the island again – the only boat at the docks was Kingfisher. The southwest wind, with incoming tide, made the earlier negotiation not necessary, as we sailed on the easier reaching and running courses through the ferry passage.
Clouds obscured the sun, but the ease of the return sail added to the day’s fine fortune. The facility of the sailing allowed a distracted mind to wander, and the bump against a crab pot buoy brought me back to the moment. And that moment included a marsh harrier patrolling low over the salt marsh, and an eagle at a higher elevation winging to the mainland. Back in Anderson Creek, close to the Intracoastal Waterway, the sun broke out again, lighting up the white head of an eagle flying along the upland. Out in the ICW, a white cabin cruiser motored south, but I had time to jibe, run toward the landing, and round up and drop sail, easing in to the dock with paddle.
I reflected later on how fortune, a cousin to karma, was so good on this day. Several weeks later a fortune cookie snuck into my consciousness with another useful perspective: “Good fortune takes preparation.” Fortune had smiled on me; a week later the smile would turn into a frown.
!!!! So what happened a week later????????????
OK. Short answer – Fortune frowned. Full answer – before launching Boston Whaler a week later the rubbing I heard was the trailer fender rubbing on tire, the result of a corroded broken spring. Still launched and went to island for a walk, and returned to landing. Went to drive boat onto trailer but not able to start engine. So worked the boat onto trailer and winched it up by hand, a lot of fun. I guess if the non-start had happened on the island it would have been Fortune scowling.
Love the pictures and may good fortunate continue with the book launch!
Thanks for that positive sentiment.
Thanks for taking me from my office chair on another sail and a hike! It may be my computer but I thought that I used to be able to click on your pictures to see the small ones enlarged but I couldn’t seem to do it this time.
Glad to get you away from the office chair. Not your computer, just a different way to post several photos in an array. I will try to remember to post slide shows for multiple photos, so you can advance through them.