New River, SC

3/7 Thursday, 59/46, sunny, SW5, 1205.7 - At dawn, we unplugged our snuggly little space heater and prepared to get underway. We’d been up since 5am, drinking coffee, eating breakfast, getting dressed, and walking Murphy.

Frost dusted the dock and Coquille had a thin coating of ice.

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Under motor, we continued our trek northward. We passed the area where we’d snagged a crab pot on Christmas Day and gave the remaining traps the evil eye. We reached Hell Gate at almost exactly high tide, as planned. At low tide, even Grace with her 3’ draft would run aground. It’s a fine piece of real estate to have behind us. I took the helm going up the Vernon River and stayed until the bridge at Skidaway Narrows - then, it was time to make lunch. I made mock Cuban sandwiches with the Sunbeam bread, onions, pickles, mustard, ham and cheese. They were quite good and a fun treat. After lunch, Dobbs stayed at the helm and I finished catching up on travelogue entries.

Rounding the corner at Thunderbolt.

Rounding the corner at Thunderbolt.

As he steered us through the shallow cuts at the GA/SC border, I filed Walden Rigging’s February Sales Tax and started replying to the e-mails and phone calls we received while in the cellular wilderness.

We stopped at Daufuskie Landing to walk Murphy and then came into the New River to anchor.

Dobbs hovers while Murph and I take a short walk.

Dobbs hovers while Murph and I take a short walk.

The hook was down around 3pm. The sun was out and Grace was toasty warm below. We sat at the main salon table for a snack and then fed the pets and relaxed with music. Dobbs lit the oil lamps to maximize BTU’s, and the ambience is nice, too. For dinner, I heated up canned chili and made cornbread to go with it. After dinner, we played two rounds of Gobblet and Dobbs beat me both times, proving that it’s not who goes first that ultimately wins (which means it probably has something to do with who’s smartest). He’s finishing doing the dishes now, as I write. The sun has set over Savannah, turning the sky the color of red wine, accented by the twinkling lights of industry. It’s a beautiful evening.

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