Our day begin in North Myrtle Beach with the departure of five southbound Charleston boats. Two boats had departed yesterday.   Paul and Pat left to anchor out two nights and will join us again Saturday; and Bernie and Nancy left on Thursday for another grandson’s graduation.  The Plantins, on Snowdrift, and the Freemans on Annie Girl began their homeward trips.  Unfortunately, the Wests, aboard Water Music, shortly experienced a belt problem with their water pump and were forced to have repairs done most of the day.  They have decided to return to Grand Dunes Resort and await the return of the fleet on the Northern Leg of the trip.

The remaining boats enjoyed a pleasant run to Georgetown actually arriving during slack tide with no docking and fueling problems.  The Davidsons and Meyers checked out the ice cream store downtown and walked off all the calories on the trip there and back. An informative captains’ meeting was held aboard “Up tha Crick”.  In Georgetown we were greeted with the roaring sound of silence, and everyone commented that they were glad to say goodbye to the Myrtle Beach roar of Black Biker Week.

A call from Paul brought everyone up to date with their progress towards Charleston and a complete weather wrap up.

Barbara's Birthday Adventure by Mark West

May 23 was Barbara's birthday as well as a day we were going to spend continuing down the ICW on the Southern Cruise. The plan for the day was to travel from Barefoot Resort Marina, near North Myrtle Beach, to Georgetown Landing. During the captains' meeting the evening before, we learned that we wanted to reach Georgetown at slack water, which was predicted for 1300 hours that day. With a 43 nautical mile trip ahead of us, I wanted to be away from the dock by 0630 to allow plenty of time for the journey.

That Friday morning dawned to near perfect cruising conditions. The wind was dead calm and the high temperature for the day was predicted to be in the mid-70s. I started the engine at 0620 to give it a few minutes to warm up, brought in the power cord, and began taking in docking lines. The spring lines were slack, so they were the first to go. Barbara asked if she could help, but I assured here that I had everything under control. Next off was the bow line. The boat lay perfectly still in the slip with no wind to worry about. I stepped aft; took off the port stern line; stepped aboard; ran up the stairs to the bridge; and eased the gear shift into forward. We started to move away from the dock and then suddenly began to veer to starboard—heading for Snowdrift, the Plantins' boat with which we shared the slip. Barbara was already preparing to fend off as we continued to move to starboard. What was going on? A quick look aft confirmed my fear: I had forgotten to untie the starboard stern line. (Note to self: Count your docking lines next time!) I took the engine out of gear—or at least thought that I had—just as we bumped Snowdrift for the first time. Running down to the main deck, I tried to help fend off, but we kept veering to starboard, bumping a second time. I ran back up to the fly bridge and tried to use the bow thruster to move the boat back to port. I could hear it working but it seemed ineffectual. By now we had attracted a crowd. The Plantins, rudely awakened at that hour of the morning, had come on deck to try to save their boat. Bill Davidson also heard the commotion; assessed the situation; and untied the errant docking line from the cleat. (Note to self: Find out what kind of beer Bill likes...you owe him a six-pack.) With the docking line free, Water Music shot forward. Yes, the boat had been in gear the whole time. (Note to self: Mark the neutral position on the gearshift lever.) A quick turn to starboard got us into the fairway without hitting anything else. Barbara was able to retrieve the dock line before it fouled the prop. We were off. Subsequent communications with the Plantins and  an inspection of Water Music confirmed that there had been no damage to either boat. (Note to self: Find out what kind of vodka the Plantins prefer.) What a start to the morning! (Note to self: Begin preparing your acceptance speech for the 2008 Red Marker Award...this is going to be hard to top.)

An icy silence hovered over Water Music's bridge for the next couple of hours. It was just beginning to thaw—and
I thought my boating career might yet be saved—when an alarm began to shriek on the console. I throttled back immediately. The oil pressure looked fine, but the temperature gauge was red lining! Barbara took the helm for a moment while I went below. Sea water was pouring out the exhaust as it should be. I pulled up a panel in the salon to get to the engine compartment and noted that the coolant overflow reservoir was above its normal level, but not yet at a critical point. Back up on the bridge, I pulled the gearshift back to neutral—yes, I found it this time—and was gratified to see the temperature begin the drop. Within a couple of minutes the alarm stopped sounding. I engaged the transmission and discovered I could run at idle speed without over heating the engine while making just over 3 knots. Barbara consulted the Waterway Guide and discovered that Hague Marina, which the guide said had the only boat repair facilities on the ICW between Wilmington and Charleston, was located 3 miles further on. An hour later at 0930 we limped into Hague Marina.

The Waterway Guide had also told us that Hague was one of the oldest marinas in this part of South Carolina. Nevertheless, we were not quite prepared for what greeted us. Rickety fixed piers and a 1950s vintage trailer that served as the office were the order of the day. The dock master was thoroughly professional, however, and assured us that George would be back shortly and could look at the boat. While waiting for George, I pulled up the rest of the engine access panels and began looking for the problem. Hidden behind what owners of CAT 3116s call the “lawyer guard”, I found the broken water pump belt. (Note to self: The next time the mechanic tells you the belts are fine when you ask him to change them out, have him change them anyway.) I had the first section of the guard off when not George, but Harold showed up an hour later. I turned the job over to him. It took nearly two hours to get the guard completely off—one of the reasons that New Bern mechanic had not wanted to tackle the job, I suspect—and then another 15 minutes to install the spare belts we carry aboard.

By now it was well into the afternoon. If we pressed on the Georgetown, we would likely have 4 to 5 more hours on the water and be fighting the current as we approached the area. Having thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Barefoot Resort, we opted instead to retrace our steps and await Bernie and Nancy Teubert's scheduled return on Sunday. We had an uneventful trip back. It was going on 1600 hours when we tied up at Barefoot.