Catamaran Delivery, Days 4 and 5: Belhaven, NC to Oriental NC

I continued to not sleep well, and woke in Belhaven around 3am. I tossed and turned for a bit in my bunk, and then capitulated to wakefulness and got up around 5am. I availed myself of the clean showers (with towel service!), started a load of laundry (free!), and then walked into “town”.

Belhaven, or at least the small parts of it near the marina, is essentially two cross streets, with a small handful of restaurants, a hardware store, and a few shops. I had spotted “Bad Moms” coffee the night before on Sea People, and noted that they opened at 6am. I walked in, chatted briefly with the charming proprietor, and bought 3 large coffees, and in the absence of any kind of baked goods, some packaged Stroopwafels. I precariously brought them back for the rest of the crew, finished my laundry, and meandered for a bit longer as our captain and his wife took the (free!) golf cart into town to run to the post office.

Around 9:30am, we set sail, saying our farewells to Ken. It was bitterly cold - the lowest temperature we’d seen yet on the trip - but perfectly clear. Much of the trip was in the open waters of the Pamlico Sound, which lies inland of Cape Hatteras. While technically still the ICW, it felt much more like being on the ocean than in the ditch; we made good time, although the wind remained out of the north, meaning we had to motor rather than sail in order to arrive before sunset. A break from after-dark piloting into a marina would offer a much-needed break!

Along the way, we did pass through the canal west of Goose Creek Island, and came across a number of large fishing vessels, and one rather impressively overbuilt “pirate ship” that appeared to be a modified trawler, replete with cannon.

We arrived in Oriental at 3pm, with enough time to explore a bit. We dropped in at the local chandlery, as the owner needed to buy quite a few tubes of 3M 4200 with which to repair a significant leak that had developed on the port hull, along the sugar scoop stairs. In an arguably terrible design, the stairs are fully removable (allowing access to the sail drive), but the bottommost stair is flush with the water, and ships a good bit when under way, especially if the engine is running and creating backwash.

If only the top two stairs were removable, there would be no issue - but because all three can come out, the only thing keeping water from pouring in is sealant. Over the years, the original sealant failed, and we had taken on a lot of water while underway the first night. Fixing this would require removing the stairs, scraping and sanding off all of the old sealant, and rebedding everything.

Supplies in hand and checked in, we had dinner at the local M&M Cafe - soft shell crab was a highlight, and the conversation ranged from philosophy to mysticism, politics to potential futures for each of us. Sailors, I think, tend to be largely suspicious of the life I have come from. Sailing full time is unorthodox, and it attracts a blend of misfits and miscreants as well as dreamers. It’s often good company, but it’s a far cry from the board rooms I’ve spent the last decade in.

I slept poorly, again, and woke sneezing. I haven’t gotten much rest since we started, the combination of cold weather and long hours has worn me down a bit. I managed to fall back asleep around 7, and slept in, getting out of bed at 8:30.

The owner had made a pot of coffee, and I allowed myself the luxury of sitting in the salon with a large mug, and then a second, reading the news and gearing up for the day. We wouldn’t be sailing today, given the incoming weather, and would instead focus on a handful of tasks: fixing the leaks, raising one of the crew up the mast to remove a tattered flag, and repositioning the dinghy to minimize the chances of it taking on water in any kind of sea - an issue we’d contended with in our first overnight, and a serious danger if we decide to go outside the ICW and bypass the Georgia sections later in the trip.

The captain’s wife and I also called the local Piggly Wiggly, a southern grocery chain, who offer a car service for sailors staying at the local marinas. We’d tried the night before, but they were short-staffed, but we made out far better today.

As the car arrived, we met another couple of sailors, who had sailed from Wisconsin (!). They were friendly (“hi, new friends!”, they said, as they joined us), and like us, provisioned extensively at the porcine market. The captain’s wife likes to cook at least as much as I, and is far better at it; we spent far too much on groceries, but we would shift from eating frozen foods to a far more healthy and diverse set of meals for the next few days at the very least. The evening meal was homemade bread, brie and honey, roasted Brussels sprouts, and from-scratch chicken masala - incredible, and impressive on a small boat galley!

I decided to get some fresh air, and upon stepping off the boat, a large boat across the dock asked for help tightening their lines. A very elderly sailor from Austria and a younger man who was helping secure his (apparently disabled?) boat bickered a bit, and I helped tie him up as best as we could with his rather undersized lines.

I wandered around a bit after sorting them out, holing up in the empty yacht room and called home, and then had a post-dinner beer and some light snacks at Barca’s Food Company, and oddly named watering hole on the marina grounds.

Tonight will be rolly, as the wind backs to the W/SW, and we set out every fender on board. I made myself some chamomile tea, and prepared to spend my last night in an unheated cabin sleeping on bare plywood with a few more chapters of Lin and Larry Pardey’s adventures in Europe aboard Serrafyn; by comparison, these are luxury accommodations, and I cannot complain.