Wednesday, June 8, 2016

day two - Adams Creek

I wake after a bright starry night, bright moon and bright mars glowing red.  Morning comes clear and calm in the tiny little cove.  A few mosquitoes but they are small and more of a nuisance than a problem.  We sail off anchor with a light west wind just after 6 a.m., the sun just coming over the tree tops and tinting the sails light orange. 

I see a local power boat cut the channel so we sail south past the red and green markers making Cedar Point at 6:25, two pelicans standing on abandoned post jutting out of the shallows.   Past Gum Thicket before 7:00 we find stronger wind on the open Neuse River and make just under 4 mh.  

Mid-morning the wind fails on the Neuse, the fills in from the southwest.  We start making slow tacks toward Adams Creek but looking west across the river I can see the fine little village of Oriental and the thought of a nice lunch has us sailing towards the harbor.  Wind fades, fills in again.  Three or four dolphin pass by.  I look to the south and wonder if tiny ripples mean more wind.  Yes, they do!  A fine sail into Oriental, tied up at the town dock by 10:30.

A nice burger for lunch but only because I missed seeing the fried soft-shell sandwich written on the "specials" chalkboard.  I pick up some bottled drinks and almost-ripe peaches at the provision shop, then duck into The Bean coffee shop to charge my cell phone and have another glass of iced tea.  Walking in the door I step into the middle of a performance by two ladies from the local ukelele club.  You never know what you'll find in Oriental.

Sails up in the harbor just before 1:00, sailing in light wind to Adams Creek at 1.8.  Pleasant and peaceful.  Halfway across the river the wind fails and leaves the water a glassy calm that reflects the blue sky and a few white clouds.  Under power to the creek, entering it with a following tide.  

The afternoon wind comes strongly out of the south mid-afternoon as we follow the curve of the creek directly into the hot breeze.  At 3:40 we drop anchor on long, wide Back Creek, just a few homes spaced out on the north shore and marsh backed by tall trees to the south.  

With batteries charging from the solar panel on the foredeck I lie down in sliver of shade on the starboard bunk flat and sleep with straw hat tilted over my eyes.

With evening comes a dinner of spicy pasta with sausage, excellent.  I slip into the sleeping bag listening to the birds in the marsh.  The chattering amplifies as the sun goes down, filling in with humming and buzzing, shrill three-note songs, gasping breathes and the noise of an ill-fitting door scraping back and forth across a wooden floor.  Maybe it was the stillness of the night, but I cannot remember a marsh so loud and pleasant sounding.

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