Finding Comfort in the Familiar

Great Bridge to Deltaville |  9.4 Hours  |  61 Miles 

The final day of our 2019-2020 Winter Cruise began with the sunrise. As the day broke behind us, we brought our dock lines onboard and slipped away from the dock in the still water. The bridge was open for us when we approached at 7:00. We passed through and proceeded directly into the lock for a two-foot lift. We were then on our way. Scenic woodlands quickly gave way to the concrete jungle. We settled in behind the tug Jack Holland and followed it through a labyrinth of bridges. We've traveled this section of the ICW for many years and have a good sense of the flow ... I-64 high-rise to Gilmerton, hang a left, under the Jordan, then two railroad spans. Occasionally a delay is encountered for a closed railroad bridge, but we experienced none today.

The Elizabeth River through Norfolk was deserted. Sunday morning and early in the season were possible contributing factors, but the COVID-19 Stay at Home Order was definitely responsible for for the empty Waterside district. We saw more dolphin than boats. Even the Navy's docks were empty. The USS John C. Stennis sat by itself on the Navy's pier. Five aircraft carriers were lined up when we came through in November. We crossed the Hampton Roads Tunnel and spotted the Old Point Comfort Lighthouse, one of my favorites, on the shore at Fort Monroe.

At 10:00 I was able to stream the Palm Sunday service from Home Church in Winston-Salem and enjoyed the music as we made our way into the Chesapeake Bay. It's just part of my family Easter traditions. We had a nice, flat ride today and the bow (and windshield) stayed dry. More familiar landmarks helped us count down the miles. We paused for a moment for a photo of Wolf Trap Lighthouse. As we turned into the Rappahannock River, the Norris Bridge was visible on the horizon. It was not necessary to go to the bridge today. We turned at the 1BC (#1, Broad Creek) day marker for the final stretch to our home slip.

An osprey supervised our turn into Stingray channel. It was low tide and I'm sure he was waiting for some drama. None today. We had at least 2.5 feet under us the whole time. The sight of the marina office in the replica screwpile lighthouse confirmed that we had reached home ... almost. We made the necessary stop at the pumpout station to take care of business before backing into our slip. We did a quick clean-up of the decks and then took a short walk around the marina before dinner. Along the way we heard the familiar sound of the resident bald eagle and later saw it atop a nearby pine tree. A nearly-full moon rose off our stern to mark the end of this day and our rushed trip home. Since deciding to leave The Bahamas from Big Major's we traveled 156 hours and 1136 miles over 14 days at an average speed of 7.3 knots. That's quite a stretch for us and we'll take it slow here in Deltaville for the next few days while social distancing ourselves from the craziness going on in Richmond. Hopefully, we'll be able to do this again next fall and visit family and familiar places that we missed this year. Thanks for following along.

Refilling the Tanks

Great Bridge 

I was out for my morning walk before folks made their way to the park. It was a peaceful trek along the trails with the only sounds being those of songbirds, woodpeckers, and squirrels. The drop in temperature overnight combined with the breeze led to a newly deposited layer of yellow Carolina jasmine blossoms across the forest floor. Back onboard, we gathered our bags and headed over to Kroger with our shopping list. There were three distinct groups in the store -- those wearing masks and gloves, those (like us) without protective gear but respectful of others, and way too many who were clueless and wandered around in their own world. We loaded up on fruit, veggies, and yogurt and got back to Crossroads as quickly as possible to wash our hands and put everything away. Heavy clouds moved in and it turned much colder. We watched as several good-sized logs floated by and endured a nerve-wracking 45 minutes as this workboat attempted to hold station beside us while waiting for the bridge's scheduled opening. It was very poor timing on the captain's part and the bridge wasn't going to open early. Once that mess cleared out, we prepared to run over to the fuel dock and top off the tanks. I held out as long as I could, but finally had to pull the Cold Gear back out of storage and pair it with a long-sleeved T-shirt and a fleece jacket. I could feel my tan fading under all the layers.

A pleasant surprise was seeing $1.93 a gallon for diesel. (The going rate in The Bahamas was around $5.00 a gallon. We took over 300 gallons, so the savings add up.) I enjoyed the view of the colorful azaleas and pansies as I pumped and went for a closer look as Barry paid. Docking practice concluded as we made our way back to the Battlefield Park Docking Pier. I finished my latest book and then went for another walk through the woods. We took the same route as I did this morning, but the scenery was new and different. I spotted a large patch of lady slippers that I had totally missed earlier in the day. These rare woodland orchids have always been one of my favorites.

Sweet Virginia Breeze

Coinjock, NC to Great Bridge, VA |  5.3 Hours  |  33 Miles 

Before departing this morning, we needed to remove some of the salty residue from yesterday. Barry washed our pilothouse windows and I followed behind with the squeegee. We were good to go. The canal water was still and the wind was light as we exited the facedock at Coinjock Marina. Granny's compass was spot-on as we headed north into Currituck Sound. So much for our clean windows. The north wind once again whipped up a chop that frequently sent water up to the glass. The breeze blew steadily at 25-30 knots with gusts topping 40, but we were comfortable in the pilothouse.

The scenery improved once we entered the North Landing River. Osprey populated most day markers. Some of them had massive nests. Turtles sunned themselves on floating logs as we paced our arrival to the first of two bridge openings. The North Landing Swing Bridge opened on the hour and we coasted through without stopping. One hour later, we reached the Centerville Turnpike Bridge with similar timing, and passed right through. Shortly thereafter we tied up at the Great Bridge Town Dock and I quickly left the boat for a long-anticipated walk through the adjoining park.

Finally ... terra firma. The Sweet Virginia Breeze* was dampened by the canopy yet the sun shined warmly through to the forest floor. I soon removed my jacket and rolled up my sleeves while getting in more steps than I had in the last two weeks combined. Tender new leaves glowed in the filtered light. An elaborate boardwalk led to an observation platform at the edge of a marsh where the grasses flowed in mesmerizing wind-powered waves.

The real highlights for me were the flowers. The whites of dogwood, viburnum, and spirea were a welcome reintroduction to springtime in Virginia. Also on display were the non-so-welcome signs of spring -- pine pollen and dandelions. Today, however, all is good and I'm thankful for this place.

*Sweet Virginia Breeze, by Steve Bassett and Robbin Thompson,
  is the Commonwealth's Official Popular Song.

  Woke up this morning, the breeze blowin' 'cross my face,
  And I just had to look up above and thank somebody for this place,
  Because He must've been thinkin' bout me
  When He planted that very first dogwood tree,
  It's where I want to be,
  Livin' in the Sweet Virginia Breeze.

Crossing the Sound

Belhaven to Coinjock |  10.5 Hours  |  88 Miles 

My theory that the colder the air temperature the more mud that comes up with the anchor was reinforced this morning. All 100 feet of anchor chain was caked in thick, black sludge. By the time the anchor was secure, the deck and I were covered with mud. Soon thereafter I was soaked and cold from the washdown. Oh, how I miss The Bahamas. Our trip through the Alligator-Pungo Canal was peaceful. The water was smooth and we saw only a few other boats along the way. Mirror-like reflections lined the shore.

The whitecaps of a chop were visible as we approached the entrance into the Alligator River. The north wind was driving waves on our nose. The ride was wet but not uncomfortable. The Alligator River Swing Bridge operator opened the span as we approached and the assembled pelicans ushered us into Albemarle Sound.

The chop intensified and the wind continued to build to a consistent 30+ knots. We tacked our way across the churned-up Sound trying to minimize the roll from a beam sea, but adding an hour to the crossing. When we arrived at our intended anchorage, the conditions were not very good so we kept on going. Our planned 61 mile day turned into 88 miles. The setting sun showed all the salt spray on the pilothouse windows once docked at Coinjock Marina. All is calm in the canal and I'm sure we'll sleep well tonight. 

Enjoying Some Down Time While Waiting on the Weather

Belhaven 

The rain and wind continued overnight. We pulled blankets out of storage and slept well as the cabin temperature dropped into the mid-50s. The first order of business this morning was to turn on the heat. A quick check of the anchor monitor showed that we were again holding strong and forming a nice "banana." The scene outside was gloomy so I did my yoga stretching and then went to work on some chores to keep busy. Our daily pantry was restocked from storage and the cabin was vacuumed before lunch. 

For the afternoon, I brought a blanket up to the pilothouse and spent a few hours reading and checking in with several friends. Slowly but surely the dreary clouds began to clear and the sun came out -- literally and figuratively. I made personal pizzas for dinner and we enjoyed a nice sunset here in Belhaven.

The Alligator River Swing Bridge was closed today because of high winds. We couldn't have reached our next destination of Camden Point if we had tried. It was the perfect day to take a break. We'll leave in the morning to pass through the bridge then cross the Albemarle Sound. We are three travel days away from tying up in our home slip where we'll continue to socially distance ourselves, but with electricity and the opportunity to go for a walk. 

Temperature ... The Forgotten Weather Component

Beaufort to Belhaven |  8.5 Hours  |  61 Miles 

After spending the better part of two years onboard, we have a pretty tight routine for getting the anchor up early in the morning. On good sleeping mornings, I can condense the timeline to roughly 15 minutes. Such was the case today. I exited the pilothouse for the bow as normal only to find that it was COLD ... and I was still in my usual shorts and a T-shirt. We spent so much time reviewing multiple weather sites for wind and wave predictions, but neglected to notice that the temperature was going to plummet. Passing by the NOAA station as we entered the ICW made us think of all aspects of weather forecasting. I ran downstairs, pulled jeans and fleece out of storage, and layered up. There was little activity around the fishing vessels at the Morehead City docks. A few folks were working cleanup at the destroyed docks. Another group was tending to the oyster beds. The wind was blowing in the low 20s and the current was against us as we moved up the Newport River to Core Creek. It was slow going and we had plenty of time to catch interesting views such as the helicopter in this yard.

We also gave in and fished out the portable heater and plugged it in. Just another reminder that we were not supposed to be back this early. Closed up in the pilothouse we were warm and comfortable. When we turned north into the Neuse River, the wind-driven waves met us on the bow with a short period. The chop did not make for an uncomfortable ride, but it did create quite a bit of spray. I tried to capture the moment, but it never looks the same as live. I'm sure Crossroads looked much like the 64-foot Hatteras traveling beside us and hidden behind a curtain of water.

Thankfully the Neuse River section did not last long and when we turned west the wind was blocked by the trees and we had a nice ride into the canal and through Hobucken. The fishing boats alongside the RE Mayo docks are always a nice sign of civilization. Another familiar landmark is this house at the entrance to the Pamlico River. We're always intrigued by its interesting architecture. One last northbound open water crossing gave us another boat wash before reaching the anchorage at Belhaven. Learning from my previous error, I was fully layered up in foul weather gear to deploy the anchor. It was dry outside, but blowing in the mid 20s and windchill was a most unwelcome factor.

As I type this, it is raining and the wind is still howling as a front is moving through. We will stay put tomorrow and let it pass. Both of us are looking forward to taking it easy during the rain delay.

Drawing A Straight Line

Wrightsville Beach to Beaufort |  9.5 Hours  |  70 Miles 

Day 10 of rushing home brought another early morning departure. A favorable weather window allowed for an offshore passage which would save a couple of days of ICW travel. An orange sky brightened beyond Wrightsville Beach's Blockade Runner Resort as I went out to raise the anchor. Masonboro Inlet was eerily flat as we made our way into an equally calm Atlantic. A heavy cloud cover made for a chilly, gray ride. We closed the doors to the pilothouse to stay warm as we crossed Onslow Bay toward Beaufort.

Six hours later, the sun finally appeared and we enjoyed the improved conditions. I spent some time on Fiberglass Beach listening to the gentle whoosh of Crossroads surfing on a following sea. There was little traffic on the water and even less as we entered Beaufort Inlet. Normally boats would be zipping about and the marinas would be full. This afternoon, the Beaufort waterfront resembled a ghost town. We dropped anchor in Taylor Creek and wished the town's stores and restaurants were open so that we could go ashore. We had a great visit here last year, but now its just a stop on the road home. For this leg of the journey the shortest distance was a straight line.

Shaking Off the Fog

Supply to Wrightsville Beach |  4.6 Hours  |  35 Miles 

A dense fog greeted us this morning and delayed our departure time. We could see the boat behind us on the dock, but not much further. It was also difficult to see across the ICW. I checked the weather to see when it might clear and found out that we were also under a high pollen advisory. Welcome back to spring in North Carolina. I took advantage of the extra time and did a little yoga stretch in the hallway. I have been very diligent about stretching during our trip, right up to the point where we began rushing back home. I was very thankful for an extra two hours and the opportunity to work out some of the kinks that have set in over the last nine days onboard. I wiped down Crossroads with the chamois, removing salt spray and some more Fuzzy Bill stains. A local pelican came over to check us out. 

When visibility improved a bit, we cast off. For an hour it took both of us to keep a look out for other boat traffic. At the next level of clearing, I went outside to clean up the docklines and fenders. While doing so, I discovered another fish that had found its final resting place in our scupper drain -- three days ago. I gave it a proper burial at sea. As we neared the Cape Fear River, the nondescript Oak Island Lighthouse was still hiding behind some fog to the east. Its beacon was shining bright. To the west, the sun lit up the town of Southport's water tower, a church steeple and flag pole.

An interesting brick furnace seemed out of place along the river's edge. We got a great push from the current and zipped up the Cape Fear at 9.5 knots. It was another busy day on the water. In a new twist, a sea plane was practicing touch-and-gos near the inlet. Further in, the Tarheel Navy was parading in full force.

A quick passage through Stone's Cut put us into the mayhem of ICW. As you can see "social distancing" and "stay at home" were both merely suggestions. The beaches looked like those on Memorial Day weekend. The Wrightsville Beach water tower peeked over the horizon and we tracked toward it and found a spot in the anchorage for the evening. With a short travel day of only 35 miles, we even had a few afternoon hours to relax and check in with family and friends -- helping to clear our brain fog.

Spring Fever vs. Corona Virus

South Santee River, SC to Supply, NC |  11.3 Hours  |  86 Miles 

While we slept in our peaceful anchorage, the locals descended upon Crossroads. When I went outside to raise the anchor, I was shocked to see that we were covered in bugs. I got the hook up then attempted to clean up the infestation. The Fuzzy Bills (aka blind mosquitoes/midges) swarmed, but did not bite, and quickly died. Most of their carcasses were washed away, but many spots will require plenty of elbow grease and cleanser to remove when we get home. Our morning was serene and we enjoyed watching the world go by. A first for us was seeing a floating swing bridge. Spotting an eagle is always a treat. Trees covered with Spanish moss lined the edge of the grasslands. The confluence of five rivers occurs in Georgetown. Technically we were just downstream the Yadkin River from my Winston-Salem.

At this point we started joking about our effort at social distancing. There was not another boat in sight for miles. Only the osprey watched us go by and most of the boats we saw were at anchor.

The trees were glowing with the vivid greens of new leaves. We began to notice floating sticks, boards and logs in the water and spent a lot of effort avoiding them. We came upon one seemingly innocent stick, watched it pass down our port side, and screamed as it flinched, splashed, and dove underwater. That stick was actually an alligator. Later on another stick turned into a large snake. Quickly thereafter, our commune with nature ended and small boats crowded into the waterway. At the Socastee Swing Bridge, traffic was heavy.

It was obvious that social distancing was not as important as enjoying an 80 degree March day -- the choice of spring fever vs. corona virus. Spring had sprung and the purple wisteria bloomed among the white flowers at the edge of the ICW. We were right in the middle of two outbreak hotspots as we entered the Myrtle Beach area.

Small boats zipped by and it took a lot of concentration to avoid them and stay in the channel. Glimpses of blooming azaleas on waterfront golf courses provided a moment of relaxation. Now that we've had to leave the Bahamas, I'm anxious to get home and enjoy all the colors of spring.

Grand houses and huge condos lined the water. We began judging infinity pools and hardscapes. This house won for best retaining wall. We were happy to see the Little River Swing Bridge and have it open for us without delay. Just on the other side, we turned into our destination anchorage at 4:00. We did not like what we saw -- too shallow and too many derelict boats -- so we turned around and decided to keep going, into North Carolina. For close to three hours we searched for a spot to anchor (none) or tie up (docks too small, too shallow, closed because of virus). Reaching a high level of frustration, we took a chance and asked a waterman if we could tie up at their dock overnight. He helped us tie up and we were most grateful to call this long day done.

Knocking Out Some Miles

Fort Pierce, FL to Brown Island/South Santee River, SC |  53.9 Hours  |  399 Miles 

We were up to the sounds of the morning's first freight train passage. The tracks cross the water 100 yards from the end of the Harbortown Marina fuel dock and the rumble rattled the hull of Crossroads. A final top off of the water tank and emptying of the trash were completed before we eased away from the dock. The pelican sunning in the still water did not pay us any attention as we slipped by. As we exited Fort Pierce Inlet to the Atlantic, Sabrina and Seven Sundays were making their way in following their overnight cross from the Bahamas. We came full circle with these guys, meeting first in Great Harbour Cay. The ocean was smooth and there was zero apparent wind. We set a waypoint for Beaufort, NC, and began our three-hour watches. I took my time at the helm from the flybridge. Unfortunately, the still air invited every bug in the area to stop by and visit. Dragon flies and butterflies were welcomed. The biting gnats were the worst. The flies and love bugs were just annoying. Good news was that while the love bugs were conducting their business, it was an easy two kills for one swat. Cloud cover increased during the afternoon, but cleared enough for an almost-unobstructed sunset

Shortly after the sun disappeared, I spotted a shiny object in the water 25 miles off the coast of Titusville. Barry took the helm and I grabbed the boathook to bring in the mylar Valentine's Day balloon. Hugs and Kisses was a nice sentiment, but far-drifting helium-filled balloons are a big problem for sea creatures. Please don't release them. Following that excitement we watched as the sliver of moon set. It was a dark evening. We were in the Gulf Stream and making a great current-aided 12 knots. By 9:00 the seas and the wind were building. It was a rocky and wet night. Crossroads performed great while taking serious spray for hours. We warm dry and comfortable in the pilot house, but neither one of us slept much with the pitching and noise of the anchor chain resettling with each rise and fall of the bow. It was probably best that we couldn't make out the sea state around us. We could only see the incoming curtains of water as the were illuminated by our deck light. The darkness finally gave way to a classic "red in the morning, sailor's warning" sunrise. As the day progressed, we made the decision to head for Charleston instead of Beaufort and worked our way in closer to the coast. We took turns grabbing short naps when we could. The waves subsided and the sky again cleared for sunset. Our second overnight passage was pleasant with little traffic. We adjusted our speed for a first-light arrival at the entrance to Charleston. At 6:30 a Harbor Pilot had us join the parade behind one of the many large cargo ships.

The long channel was also busy with outgoing traffic. Beeps and dings from our phones announced that we had returned to cell service. At 8:30 we finally turned north into the ICW, just before the Ravenel Bridge.

Back into the Low Country, it was a refreshing ride. There were houses that sprouted up in remote locations and an old-school fire tower. Dolphins joined in our journey through the pines and grasses. Several groups swam in our bow wave and a few took up position along our beam.

We turned off the ICW at the South Santee River and anchored just off of Brown Island. As anticipated, our anchor chain was a tangled mess. I hopped into the anchor locker and eventually got it free and feeding up through the windlass. We picked up the items that settled into lower spots while underway, reset our dinghy on the rooftop, and cleaned the decks. In the process we found a seashell and four small fish. By the time I finished my shower, fog had rolled in. The wind picked up and we had a brief shower before clearing off. This really is a pretty spot. Hopefully I'll get a good picture tomorrow morning before we depart and keep moving north.

Crossing Back to the States

Morgan's Bluff to Fort Pierce, FL |  27.3 Hours  |  192 Miles 

We were in no real hurry to leave and took our time with breakfast, dishes, and final readying of the boat for an overnight voyage. With mixed emotions, we pulled up the anchor for the final time this year in the Bahamas. No more simple pleasures of seeing the chain laid out nice and straight under water, knowing exactly when you're over the anchor, and raising up a perfectly clean hook. We headed to the top of the Northwest Channel along with many sport fishers. A basic pole stands at the spot where the Shoal meets the Tongue of the Ocean. The water was calm and the wind was light -- trawler weather. Our chartplotter revealed a large gathering of cruise ships off Coco Cay. These giant floating cities are sitting at anchor without passengers during the Covid-19 outbreak.

The afternoon was uneventful and warm. Again, apparent wind ranged from 0-3 knots. We alternated watch shifts and each was able to read in the sun and/or nap. With the water deep enough, our route straight, and no other boats in sight, the autopilot took care of most of the work. We ate our prepped dinner and settled in on the flybridge to enjoy the final hour of daylight. Off our starboard side, we spotted a few light spots on the horizon. A little time passed and we could make the shapes to be sailboats. Then AIS confirmed what we were thinking. It was Ti Amo and River Rat. They had departed Great Harbour Cay in the morning as well. The sun sank and began casting an orange glow in the sky. On the western horizon, more cruise ships sat at anchor near Hen and Chickens Rock. Their large superstructures appeared to be more like islands than boats. An excellent sunset developed and we all watched while maintaining course.

At the last moment, the green flash appeared and radio chatter confirmed what we all thought we saw. How special to share this moment in the middle of open water. What are the odds of this meeting happening totally unplanned and without communication? Heck, could we have pulled it off it we had planned a sunset rendezvous? Final good nights and safe travels were swapped and we all continued to our destinations. Darkness soon overtook the daylight and the lights from the cruise ships lit up the moonless night. There was quite a bit of vessel traffic which helped our three-hour watches to pass quickly. My 12:00-3:00 shift had me playing a game of Frogger, adjusting speed to navigate through the traffic and maintain two miles of separation. It sounds like a lot of space, but it was white knuckle time. I was switching between the three ships checking speed, heading, and closest points of approach. We all played nicely together and no radio communication was required. I was particularly glad to see Gaslog Hongkong, Emerald Princess, and Disney Fantasy move on.

Thankfully my 6:00-9:00 shift was much calmer. I got to enjoy the stars in the deep black sky and watch as the sun rose through a thick cloud bank. Multiple alerts and tones sounded around 7:00 letting me know that cell service was returning. News of a total lockdown in the Bahamas helped make our decision to return more acceptable. Beachfront hotels, condos, and a nuclear power plant grew larger on the horizon. We arrived at Fort Pierce Inlet at our target time and we easily entered at slack current. 

A short distance later we turned into Harbortown Marina to refuel. Pumping 360 gallons took a while, but the flowers on the nicely landscaped grounds provided a great view. Thankfully we did not have to relocate and were able to stay on the fuel dock overnight. We gave Crossroads a good rinse and then took extended showers ourselves. We have been in water conservation mode for so long that these were great treats. Tomorrow we'll hop back offshore for a several day trek up the coast. The weather conditions will determine how far we go. Ideally, we'd like to make Beaufort, NC in three days. We are no longer in sightseeing mode. Now, we just want to get back to our home slip. There will be no post until we stop and catch our breath.

Staging to Cross

Norman's Cay to Morgan's Bluff |  10.5 Hours  |  76 Miles 

We were already underway as the sun rose over trees on Norman's Cay. Spartina followed along behind us for two hours until Pete diverted east to Nassau and we veered slightly west. We were making good time and soon reached the Tongue of the Ocean just south of New Providence. At the pictured change in water color, the bottom falls away rapidly. We went from 20 feet of water to 2,000 feet in the span of a minute. Looking to starboard we got one last look at Bravo Eugenia, the megayacht owned by Jerry Jones. We have seen this boat up and down the Exumas on both trips now. It is hard to miss. Also conspicuous were the three striped towers at the the New Providence power plant.

Once north of New Providence our breeze almost disappeared and our final four hours were quite warm -- just like a summer day on the Chesapeake. Latitude Adjustment fell in behind us and we headed to northern tip of Andros and the entrance to Morgan's Bluff. The beached tug I remembered from last year was still at the far end of the anchorage. We dropped the hook and quickly worked on our checklist for tomorrow's cross back to the US. Barry readied the ditch bag and I prepared tonight's dinner and a pasta salad with chicken for tomorrow's dinner underway. Our final Bahamian sunset occurred out the saloon door, the perfect view from the galley.

We will lose our cell service early tomorrow morning and won't regain it until Tuesday mid-day when we reenter US waters. There will be no blog post until that time. 

The Sun Sets on Our Time in The Exumas

Big Major's Spot to Norman's Cay |  5.3 Hours  |  35 Miles 

Once again I watched the sun rise over Pig Beach. Pete took Spartina out of the anchorage at first light. Xtasea came by for a final farewell as Amy and Rex headed back to Black Point. We pulled up the anchor and joined in the boat parade north. To the east we passed so many spots that I had hoped to revisit this year. I still can't believe that we're on our way home after only five weeks here. On the one hand, there's no better place to practice social distancing than at anchor in The Bahamas. On the other hand, with all the imposed border closures and quarantines, we're not sure if we could get back home if we kept to our original schedule. So we join with the millions of other folks inconvenienced and disappointed by the COVID-19 outbreak. After a few hours, we caught up with Spartina and I was glad to capture a few boat pics for Pete. Ironically, today was our best cruising day so far. The waves were flat, the wind light, the sky a medium blue, and the clouds white and fluffy. March has finally transitioned from lion to lamb. I was able to sit up on the flybridge and enjoyed every minute of the view.

We anchored off Norman's Cay just after low tide. We dropped the dinghy and set off to visit the plane wreck. I needed to christen the wetsuit that I had received for Christmas before returning home. The weathered remains of the fuselage rose from the water's surface. I exited the dinghy and snorkeled around a bit. The picture is poor, but kind of looks like a plane. There were a few fish swimming around in the crater, but the current was pretty strong so I didn't stay in long. Mission accomplished on getting the wetsuit wet. We ducked into the channel for Norman's Cay Marina and were pleased to see that it was open and three large boat were inside. Signs on both sides of the breakwater made it clear that it was a "private marina." While in the channel we snuck up on the largest turtle I had ever seen in the wild. There is no visual proof though as the camera had already been put back in the bag. We returned to the Crossroads and had a few hours to relax before dinner.

I went to the pilothouse roof where I soaked up some rays and enjoyed the view one more time.

We took a break during dinner to watch our final Exumas sunset for this trip. Sure hoping we can come back again next year.

Talk of The Town

Big Major's Spot   

We enjoyed a slow morning onboard with no plans other than to stay put for the day. I read on Fiberglass Beach and enjoyed the warm sunshine. Pete came over and we began our latest discussion of weather, travel plans, and the latest virus news. A fresh spinach salad topped with turkey and corn salsa was a special onboard lunch treat and I savored every bite. The early afternoon hours were occupied by more reading with occasional retreats inside as small showers passed through. At 4:00 we headed to Cruisers/Pirates Beach with a group of other boaters which included Amy and Rex from Xtasea. We sat around for several hours discussing the same three topics -- weather, travel plans, and virus. After a while, it just became too much to stress over so I went off to explore the many things brought ashore by cruisers. Many new items had been added since we were last here a few days ago. Tossing the cornhole bags provided a great diversion.

Folks came and went during the three hours we were there. A dinghy carrying a German shepherd and black lab landed and the dogs put on quite a show. We stayed until the sun set and then returned to Crossroads well after our normal dinner time. We will depart in the morning -- after another check of weather and virus news -- and head back north to Norman's Cay.

A Visit With The Pigs

Big Major's Spot   

Final farewells with Ti Amo were exchanged as they passed alongside us just after first light. I watched as they shrank into the western horizon and then turned my attention back to the sun rising in the east. No "red in the morning warning" was a good sign for safe travels. Soon thereafter, Carl and Debi on River Rat were passing by as well. Once the sun rose high enough to illuminate the sand on Pig Beach, we hopped in the dinghy and visited the world-famous swimming swine. The porcine patrol greeted us as soon as we landed on the beach. We brought a few nibbles of food for them and Barry attempted to appease them with hand signals for "no more" while looking like The Pig Whisperer attempting Jedi mind tricks. "This is not the food you're looking for."

The tour boats had already arrived and there were plenty of other folks on the beach with us. We left the feeding to excited newbies and stood back and observed the pigs performing. The big ones were intimidating, the medium sized ones cute, and the babies were adorable. 

They were also smart. This one knew very well that Barry had more food in his pocket, and grabbed his shorts to show him where. I found an interesting sea star in the surf and picked it up to show its large size. I saved the last of our apple scraps for this well-mannered little guy.

While pigs and people were splashing about, I followed a large ray gliding through shallow water. I was excited to get this shot of it swimming through a school of fish. From there it was back to Crossroads to reload the dinghy and head over to Staniel Cay. We dropped off some trash and then stopped for lunch on the deck overlooking the docks. One final mango daiquiri hit the spot. As we ate, a fisherman filleted a snapper at the fish cleaning table and tossed the head and bones into the water. A feeding frenzy erupted among at least six sharks. We stopped for a quick look at the "friendly" sharks before we headed off to the grocery store. The seawall is painted with images of the famous pigs

and a large "Welcome to Staniel Cay" message. We walked the yacht club's beach to get the whole image. The mail boat had come in overnight and the Pink store was well-stocked with fruit, veggies, bread, and dairy products. We headed back to Crossroads and unloaded everything into the refrigerator. A brief shower thwarted our run into an afternoon gathering on Pirate Beach. We waited a bit for the rain to clear and then went over to Spartina and visited with Pete for a while before calling it a day and returning to Crossroads for dinner.