This is a continuation from our very first offshore passage attempt. If you missed it, or want to refresher, here’s your chance:

Day 5: November 17, 2015

Day 5 (or rather Day 3) of our ‘expedition’ started EARLY. If you don’t remember, Jake and I crashed by 7PM the night before. And we both slept like rocks, until a little after 1AM, when we jolted up at the exact same moment to a loud grinding noise. We were out of bed and on-deck in less than a minute. We thought maybe the boat was grounded.

After some investigation, turns out it was just the anchor chain rubbing on the bow of the boat. The current was running so strong through this area that it caused the boat to swing off of the anchor and into the chain. We weren’t used to the sound of the chain against the boat, and of course we overreacted (not a bad thing since anything can happen on a boat). I’m glad we checked and that it wasn’t anything major. We just let out a bit more scope to hopefully alleviate and give the boat more room to move away from the chain. It helped.

Both of us went back to sleep for a couple more hours. The alarm was set to go off at 3:30AM. We had a full day of offshore cruising planned before a large storm would plague us the rest of the week. We wanted to get as far south as possible before we’re forced back on the ICW. We had to reach our inlet before 4PM (when current would be strongest against us) and before nightfall. So that left us very little room for error. We estimate about 47 miles at 5 knots we should be okay.

It was another morning of firsts. Our first time leaving an anchorage (and inlet) in the pitch black. We were the only boat in the area, so that made it a little easier, but it still felt weird. Jake stood on the bow of the boat with the long-range flashlight while I steered out of the channel. We communicated with our walkie talkies (these things are awesome!).

After clearing the shore and inlet, Jake came back to the cockpit and we were off. It was VERY cold this morning (probably high-30’s) and the wind was blowing much harder than the day before. The waves were also much bigger and choppier. It was dark so it was difficult to see (or anticipate) the wave motion or compensate for it. But since we were motoring, I didn’t worry too much about it.

As the sky lightened with sunrise, we could see that the waves were much rougher than we thought. I much preferred moving in the dark, but at least we could see and anticipate and maneuver with them. Besides big wind and choppy water, the sky was brilliant blue. There were only a few wisps of clouds in the sky.

As morning rolled on, we thought we would maybe try to sail with just the jib (since wind was almost directly behind us). But the further we went, the worse the wind and waves got. All we really wanted was to get to the inlet as fast as possible, so we continued to motor, hopeful that our fuel-filter change would hold out for us. If the engine died on us today, well, that would be bad. We didn’t think about it and focused on just moving the boat up and down waves. Steering was definitely a physical task and kind of exhausting.

If we did end up sailing, we would have slowed our speed to ride with the waves, making the motion more comfortable. Since we were in a hurry, we continued to motor. Our speed was around 5.5-6 knots for most of the day, but we were motoring faster than wave sets, essentially surfing the waves. Sometimes we would be in-time with them, and Bosco did just fine. Other times we’d get caught in a wave trough (the bottom of the wave). It would catch us on the port, stern quarter, tossing the boat sideways one direction. Then the crest made its appearance and would toss the boat the complete opposite direction. Then there would be 3 more waves to follow in the same manner.

That was definitely the worst because if we weren’t ready for it, Bosco and her crew would feel the full force of it. Good thing Bosco’s a tough pup! It wouldn’t have been so bad if the sets were spread out (say 10-12 seconds), but they were only 3-4 seconds. 30-40 knot gusts of wind would kick them up at times making it worse.

All this meant that we had to be on our toes. 50% of the time we could anticipate when we’d be in the trough and maneuver Bosco at the exact time to soften the impact. It wouldn’t toss us around so much, but the waves would break right under the hull, making us feel weightless, and then softly let us down. It was a really cool sensation. If we weren’t in a hurry to outrun a storm and daylight, it could have been enjoyable.

Conditions were ripe for seasickness. Jake definitely lost his appetite but didn’t get sick. I felt completely fine, maybe a little tired. Neither of us wanted to go below deck the entire day because it was wild and crazy down there. We both clipped ourselves into the jacklines from the cockpit just to feel safe. We also took frequent turns at the helm, switching every 5 miles. It made it much more bearable. The person who wasn’t steering would sit on the lee side boat wedged into the corner and zone out. It was the most comfortable spot because you didn’t have to brace yourself for any rocking and rolling. For both of us, taking breaks was the best part of the day. We would zone out and think of our “happy place”. It worked well!

There were a few other boats out on the water today, but they were sailing. The winds were blowing steady at 25-30 knots with gusts upwards of 40. There were also some very cute dolphins out there – that made me a happy Jilly. I’m kind of obsessed if you can’t tell.

We were making great time and the last few miles were upon us. Of course, they were the hardest (and slowest). It seemed we couldn’t get to the inlet fast enough. The waves were only getting bigger and the weather was getting worse. As we neared the channel entrance, the waves were upwards of 6-feet, with 3-4 second intervals. Since we were moving directly south, the waves were hitting us just off the stern-quarter. It wasn’t TERRIBLE but in order to enter the channel, we had to turn the boat west. This would make the waves hit us directly abeam, the absolute worst option.

The last 2 miles were the worst. I was concerned I wouldn’t be able to keep Bosco in the channel and we would hit a shoal or the sandbar. The current was now against us so that slowed us down even more. We actually thought we’d have to bail on the inlet altogether and come up with another plan. Right as we entered the channel, I saw a pod of 5 dolphins swim passed us. As soon as I saw that, I followed their path (which looked right on-course with where we needed to be). It was like they were guiding us in!

Jake became my eyes and would look out to warn me when a big wave set would come. This allowed me to focus on steering the boat in the channel AND maneuver if/when a big wave would come. Our teamwork was awesome. We were making progress, though very slowly, up the channel. The waves were getting smaller if only in tiny increments. It wasn’t noticeable or happening fast enough for our liking, but it was happening. Little by little, waves got smaller and smaller. Finally we passed a large sandbar, which cut off the worst of the waves completely. Now it was just baby waves and big current to contend with. But we were IN!

The next hour (it took us an hour to motor about 2 miles) in the channel was nice, though slow going. With the current against us, we were moving about 3 knots. After our 11-hour battle of Bosco VS. Mother Nature we were just happy to be near the end. We pulled into our anchorage (the Georgetown Lighthouse) by 3:30PM. It was a GIGANTIC area. There was actually mooring available for the huge freighter boats (which can get in the many-hundreds-of-feet long). On one side was the open channel and the other side was a line of white sandy beaches, woods and lighthouse. And we had it all to ourselves!

We dropped the hook and got to work tidying up the boat, sails, rigging and loose ends. I was so motivated after the long day to get everything wrapped up and done to maximize the relaxation below decks time. We had only one small casualty, the glass jar that held a candle broke. I was surprised that everything else stayed in place. Guess we packed down the boat really well!

We made it just under 200 miles (not counting days 1 & 2) in 3 days. That’s pretty awesome on a boat. Sadly we still had about 250 miles left to our goal, but we were very proud of ourselves for making it this far, this fast.

This cruising thing (and living aboard thing) is not for the faint of heart. Its hard stuff. It tests your fears, inner strength and perseverance. There’s a lot of suffering involved. Of course there are some wonderful moments but I think the true magic of it is the realization that its HARD. You can’t help but realize how truly insignificant we are as people on the planet. And, Mother Nature truly rules all.

I went into this experience NOT believing that I would be able to cope with it so well. I had little trust in my strength both mentally and physically. I’ve learned that I am much braver than I gave myself credit for. I am able to function at high-levels with little-to-no sleep, food and water, and still somehow find motivation to be positive and happy. I can still think clearly, have patience and somehow manage to make bad times feel okay in my brain.

Jake has had the opposite experience. He came into this thinking that he was more than well-equipped to handle the mental and physical suffering. In just a couple of days, he realized that he struggles a lot more to stay positive when he’s tired, hungry and scared. He can’t function or think at a high-level when he isn’t properly fed, watered and rested. This came as a huge surprise since Jake has always been the one to rise above and fight through all of our past adventures. But its great life lessons for both of us to our own personal growth, strengths and weaknesses.

THE FINAL SAGA TO BE CONTINUED…