We left our pleasant little spot in Beaufort and headed on down the ICW early Thursday morning.  It was sunny and warm.  We followed several other boats for miles and miles of pretty marshes and small communities.  Got to the Onslow Beach Bridge and went through it with 8 other boats. All but one headed into Mile Hammock a little distance later, our planned stopping point.  There was one other boat there when we anchored.  By the time the sun set, there were 31 boats anchored.  It was amusing to sit on our deck and watch the action as new boats (grouped because of the bridge openings) joined the "armada".  We have anchored here on several occasions in the past and have never had more than one or two neighbors.  It was truly amazing.

This is actually part of Camp Lejeune and military  helicopters were flying maneuvers over the bay all evening, only taking a break for supper.  Tom took the kayak out for a spin around the region. It was a beautiful, warm evening.  The water was flat.

Mile Hammock Sunset

Eventually everyone got situated, night fell, and we went to bed confident in our anchor and only slightly concerned about our neighbors.  Sometime in the hours before dawn, rain began to fall. Shortly thereafter the wind also joined the party.  I only looked at the wind gauge once and it was blowing 24.8k.  A few boats had lights on.  One had their deck lights on and was already pulling up their anchor.  It seemed prudent that Tom come join me in the salon just in case we needed to hightail it out of there.

About the time he got dressed and reasonably awake, I noticed a small sailboat had collided with our closest neighbor (the one we had had the most concern about when we watched them anchor).  They were struggling to disentangle their bows when I decided a few fenders might be in order on our boat in case they came our way.  Meanwhile, the boat behind them seemed a bit worried because they were both slowly moving in his direction.  Keep in mind here that boats were anchored really close together.  Closer than one would normally consider safe.  But it had been a calm and velvetty night when they anchored.  Who knew?

So before long it occurred to us that we would be leaving sooner rather than later.  We had planned on an 8:30 departure in order to wait a while to see what the weather would do, but instead, because it became evident that we would most likely have an unwillingly encounter with the 2 boats beside us, we left at 7:30, along with 10 other boats.  It was still raining but it was surprisingly warm and the wind had dropped, so not such a bad departure.

And so we continued in our smaller "armada" on down the ICW.  There was much discussion on the radio about getting to bridges on time and one jerk kept suggesting that we (and others) might want to slow down and not "pile up at the bridge with this strong current".  We politely ignored him, although Tom wanted to call him back and let him know we had this new fangled thing called GPS that let us know exactly when we would get to a bridge, (and other things that I won't print) but at any rate we made the bridges perfectly with no pileups.  One bridge tender even radioed a call after all 11 boats had cleared to thank us for "an orderly passage."

And then we were past Wrightsville and thinking about crossing Cape Fear River before stopping.  Dark clouds that had been threatening all afternoon decided it was their time to shine.  Oh, and did they ever put on a show.  Wind, rain, thunder and lightening.  Plus a current that was ripping down the channel.  We were cruising along at 9.2 k with no sail up.  (That's pretty fast for those non-sailors reading this)   Being always the conservative one, I voted for stopping at Carolina Beach rather than crossing the Cape Fear.  We had already heard offshore predictions that this front was going to produce extreme conditions and thought the river would most likely be a lot worse then here. We called several marinas and found one that had a space in a slip.  Tom joked that he'd rather sail across the Cape Fear than try to dock this boat in a slip with 28 k winds.  Since we were approaching the marina rapidly, we actually tried to turn the boat around and go back the way we had come in order to wait for the storm to pass but we could not turn into the wind.  The boat just couldn't deal with it.  The marina called and said they could put us on the fuel dock (much easier than a slip).  Most of the boats we had been traveling with all day had also decided to duck in at Joyner Marina so they were a bit overwhelmed at the time helping boats tie up.  And so we kept going and got into Snow's Cut to wait where there was some little protection from the elements.  This is a man made channel with relatively high banks which blocked the wind a little.  After what seemed like forever, we were able to dock with the help of people on another boat, in addition to the marina staff.  It took four of them to get us pulled into the dock.  Whew!  Where's the clothes drier and hot showers?  We and the boat are wet, wet, wet.

As I write this we are having sustained winds in the 30s, with higher than that predicted for later.  We are thinking about chafing gear for our dock lines and I'm wondering if it's possible to be seasick while tied to a dock.  I am sure that I am happier here than anchoring somewhere but it may not be as non-stressful as I had hoped.  We'll keep you posted.