Up at 6:30, cold gusty morning. Light mist, fog down the creek obscures the marina. Hot chocolate to start the day. Put on a new set of thermals. Forecast for the day: fog, wind to 20 mph. Raise anchor, which is buried deep in the mud after four days of strong winds, just before 10:00. Raise the jib and turn down the creek.
Slipping past the marina we follow the channel out of Upper Dowry Creek and sail out on to the Pungo River making 5.2 in a gust with wind on the beam. Steady sailing to the west at 4.0, gusts come and go. Cold and grey. Think about sailing south on the Pungo but decide to make the short sail into Belhaven.
Through the breakwater at 10:45, tied up at the town dock at 11:00.
Walk over to the marina next door, which manages the town dock, and pay my $19.00 for an overnight stay. Rain falling. Make my way to Fish Hooks for lunch, the tide is still high from the storm and parts of the streets in the small downtown are flooded. Not much on the menu so settle for an iced tea and the salad.
Rain comes and goes all afternoon. More boats are coming into the town dock and I move SPARTINA to the dinghy dock to make room for the bigger boats with more draft. The main dock is fixed, the dinghy dock is floating and will be more comfortable for the night. I put up the boom tent and clean SPARTNA.
A week and a half into a rough trip and I find I'm still in pretty good shape. Just got to hope for some better weather.
At the marina there are high water marks from the hurricanes over the years. I look at the names and realize that for more than half of them I was out on Hatteras Island. The rain goes away and I take a walk through the town. I see a sign for a steak house but no way this place is even open in a little town down on its luck. I check google maps which says the restaurant is open starting at 5:00. Too good to be true.
Surprisingly the restaurant is open at 5:00 and I grab a table on the covered porch out back not too far from the fireplace. The steaks, the server tells me, are dry aged and come from a farm somewhere in the upper midwest. So...filet mignon it is, medium rare, from a steakhouse in a little town full of empty store fronts. And it is one of the finest steaks I have ever had. Go figure.
Forecast not too bad for tomorrow. I get in the sleeping bag to the sound of falling rain.
6.75 nautical miles for the day
1 comment:
You deserved a good steak at that point.
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