From the Captain.  Leaving the Pamlico Sound

Oct 24. Ocracoke

The howling wind abated by late morning and a nice sunny day followed. More walking, exploring, a nice brunch at The Flying Melon, a visit to the thrift shop across the street, and the taco stand. But of greatest interest is that today I deepened my understanding of surf fishing.

We walked past a house on the Old Beach Road. There were four guys outside cleaning large fish. I learned they were red drum, and that these four friends have been coming to Ocracoke every fall for a week of fishing. They rent the same place every year (going on twenty), and book it a year in advance because cottages fill up quickly. Fishing has been really good this year because of the government shut down. You need a permit to drive on the beach, and none has been available until last week. They conclude there are more fish around because of this. Their SUV's have fishing rods sticking up from the bumpers.

Red Drum is the fish of choice around here. It has firm white meat and holds together well on the barbecue. Joanie manages to talk them out of two choice filets. They refuse any money ("southern hospitality"), but allow as how they really like Crown Royal, and it sure is a lot of work cleaning all those fish. Old Beach Road continues onto the Beach Road, coming in right next to the Topless Oyster. A little to the left is the Mexican food truck, in the parking lot of the supermarket. Between the taco truck and the supermarket sits the liquor store. Thus, these two filets, about three pounds in all, become the freshest and maybe the most expensive fish filets we've ever had. But were they wonderful!

Thankful for the whiskey, the friendly boys from the Carolina mainland discuss cooking techniques. "I sprinkle mine with melted butter and a little olive oil and lemon juice, a little salt and pepper," volunteers one. "You can put on some Old Bay seasoning. Sort of New Orleans style," offers another. From a third, we learn a new technique we ultimately use: "cooking the fish on the half shell."

Here is how it works: You take the filet with skin and scales left on. Coat the meat with melted butter and olive oil and grill it face down for a little bit to seal the surface. Then turn it over and cook it until the water starts to come out of the top. I chop a little garlic into the butter as it is melting and sprinkle the meat with some of the commander's Caribbean seasoning before coating it with the butter. I grill it as directed, and the meat separates easily from the skin when it is done. We eat a lot, and have enough left over for fish tacos tomorrow.

On the dock before dinner, a Quebecois man comes over because he saw "Vermont" on Luna's transom. He is here with seven friends, who join him before long. He has some ties to Vermont, having a camp up near Pelot's Bay where we have anchored on overnight trips to the northern part of Lake Champlain. The Canadians are windsurfers hanging out a little north near Cape Hatteras. They have heard the updated weather forecast: strong winds will resume overnight, and by morning will be in the 20-25 kt range, still from the northeast. They are happy. For Luna, this will mean spending another day in Ocracoke. Not a bad outcome for any of us.


October 26 Ocracoke to Broad Creek near Oriental, NC, 34nm.

Blackbeard's ship in the harbor at Ocracoke

Pirate Festival activities started yesterday afternoon with a kids' parade at the local elementary school. Little pirates and their families are walking around the town. Blackbeard and his crew have their camp on one side of the road by the inn, and the English sailors are tenting on the other, by the marina. There is a mock trial at the community center. Blackbeard is still guilty.

Men in pirate and soldier garb pass on the street and greet the civilians fully in character: "Avast there, matey, Look sharp." I was told. In the morning of the great battle re-encactment, I see some of the pirate crew hurrying to their ship which is docked near us. "C'mon," says Blackbeard, in a somewhat high and nasal voice, "We're supposed to be starting at eight."

This morning the winds have moderated some: nw at 15kts with 2-3 foot waves on the sound. The sun is out. Joanie left for home yesterday.  It's time to go. The pirate and English ships are maneuvering in the harbor. Archer helps us with our lines, hands us his boat card with an invitation  to stay at his yacht club up the Neuse River in New Bern, and pushes us off.  We ease out and go next door to the fuel dock to fill the diesel tank and empty the holding tank. They we follow Blackbeard's pirate ship out into the channel. He turns south. The inbound ferry passes somehow, and we turn northwest into the wind.

The Ocracoke channel is narrow and confusing. We mind the switch of the bouys--red to port exiting the harbor, red to starboard in the main channel. There are shallow shoals on both sides. Some unfortunate sailor must have missed the switch, as we see the top of a mast from the spreader upward above the surface of the sound not too far away. The waves break over the bow of the sunken hull.

Beating into a chilly northwest wind across Pamlico Sound

Once past the channel, we can bear off to the west, hoist the sails, and turn off the engine. Later in the afternoon, the breeze slackens and backs to the west, and we motor on to Broad Creek between the mouth of the Neuse River and Oriental, N.C. We go up the creek and find a delightful, quiet, and private place to drop the anchor. We sit and watch the sunset over the head of the creek. A welcome change from the busyness of Ocracoke.

October 27. River Dunes Marina. Broad Creek, N.C.

We spent the day around the corner from our quiet anchorage on Broad Creek at the River Dunes Marina. This came highly recommended by one of our dock neighbors at Ocracoke. He stops in every time he sails to and from his home base in New Bern. Moreover, the marina gets consistently high marks from other sailors who post evaluations to Active Captain. In fact, one person who rates marinas on the basis of favorability ratings calls River Dunes the most highly rated marina in the world. How could we not check this out?

There was another more mundane reason for the move: we froze last night. From home, we have heard that Vermont has had an unusually warm fall. Not so down here. We haven't seen really warm weather since October 5 in St. Michaels. And it's been unusually cold the past few nights. Yesterday the temperature was 55 degrees in the cabin when we woke up. We have a small electric space heater on Luna, but this requires us to plug in to power at the dock. Hence the stop at the marina.

River Dunes is indeed so far over the top, it's hard to see down to the top from where we are. There is a narrow channel into the harbor. The walls are lined with concrete pavers. The harbor is a large man-made basin, protected on all sides. If there were a major storm in the area, I couldn't imagine a better hurricane hole to be in. The floating docks are planked with smooth ipe. Tom, dressed in pressed khakis and a long sleeved white knit polo shirt with the marina's name embroidered on the left side, helps us with our lines. There is a swimming pool, an exercise room, laundry room, hot tubs. The shower rooms are tiled. The club house building has a library with a fireplace, leather chairs and hard bound volumes, including a 19th-century Brittannica. There is a pool table and another fireplace in a different room. They offer a cruiser's dinner. Outside, the lawns and gardens are perfectly manicured. Everything is spotlessly clean. There is nothing out of place. It's hard to take it all in. There is no funk.

Looking over the manicured lawn to the harbor at River Dunes

They lent us the courtesy car, and we drove into Oriental. There is a high bridge which takes you over the river, and below are a couple shrimp boats and many sail and motor boats docked and anchored in the small harbor. There is a small charming downtown. I saw a sign which commemorates the first motorized school bus in North Carolina that took kids to school in Oriental in 1917.

It's Sunday and many of the shops are closed. Bruno, owner of Endurance Seafood, sells local catch out of his house. We bought a pound of shrimp for $6.00. He shoveled some ice from his ice house into our insulated bag to keep it cold on the way back. We sautéed the shrimp with last night's left over jumbalaya and spent a warmer evening on Luna with the space heater running and the World Series streaming on the commander's iPhone.

River Dunes is at the early stage of a planned community of luxury waterfront houses being developed on the 1,300-acre parcel. Other than the marina, the rest of the property is eerily empty with just a few houses and many empty lots. Someone has put a lot of money into this project, judging by the marina and its facilities.

This is someone's very ambitious field of dreams. And if the first part of the well known conditional--"if you build it,"--is true, clearly the second part has yet to materialize. When it is realized, we have the feeling there will be no room for transient mariners like us. In the meantime, perhaps some of the transients will become homeowners there. We think that's what the owners and investors are hoping. They offer a whole lot of marina for a very reasonable price ($1.50 per boat foot).

And yet, we feel strangely out of place. We are merely the captain and crew of a medium-sized sailboat. We are sailors. Here we feel like yachtsmen. I'm not sure where the line is between the two, if there is a line. But I suspect there is one, and I know on which side we stand.

After returning from the store, we sit on the spacious porch of the clubhouse building. This is an antebellum manor house with tall columns and a wide porch that wraps around two sides of the building. We are sitting in rocking chairs enjoying the coming sunset. In the background, soul music from the 1960's is playing softly from hidden loudspeakers. It's clear who is the target demographic of this great project. The commander and I know every song they play.

Checking out the sunset across Broad Creek