Distance: 22 nm/Time: 5 hours
My plan for the day was to head offshore to make a passage from the Beaufort Inlet perhaps as far south as Charleston. It was again a situation where the timing of the tides/current at the inlet conflicted with the offshore winds. The forecast indicated that I might be able to hit the slack tide at Beaufort Inlet right about (or just before) the wind and waves offshore would die down to an acceptable level. If I remember right, the wind and waves were out of the SE at 6′-10′, but were supposed to be dying down right after sunset to 2′-3′ or so with the wind clocking to the W or NW. The slack tide was right around sunset.
What I didn’t want to happen was to get offshore, find the conditions worse than forecast, but not be able to get back in because the current had switched to an outflow, directly against the waves, which would have made the inlet very challenging, if not dangerous. So, I needed to transition through the inlet at the tail end of the incoming tide so that I’d still have enough of the slack tide if I decided to turn around.
For some reason, I did not have the trepidation about going offshore that I have had in the past. I was excited about making time south, and I had researched all possible “bail out” inlets along the coast that I could duck into if needed.1
So, even though I’d be starting the offshore portion in the dark, I’d done this offshore thing a few times now, knew generally what to expect, and was actually excited to be sailing again. But, alas, it was not to be.
Because I only had a 3-hour motor to the inlet, I didn’t need to leave until the afternoon, and so slept in and had a nice, late breakfast. I departed the anchorage about 1:30 pm, giving myself extra time in case the current was strong, or if I wanted to stop for fuel on the way. The trip to the inlet was quite windy with some rain, but otherwise uneventful.
Everything went as planned, and I arrived at the inlet just as the sun was setting. The inlet itself was a bit more lively than I expected, with 3-4′ waves right off the nose. Their rather short period required me to slow down to prevent pounding into them, so it took awhile to get through all the while keeping my eyes on the huge flag at Fort Macon. I was looking for the predicted wind shift, but it was still blowing from the SE. In fact, as I turned south, it was immediately obvious that the waves had not settled down at all, and I was encountering 4′-5′ swells right off the nose. They weren’t breaking or anything, and I wasn’t plowing into them, but the wave length was such that the boat was hobby-horsing dramatically, and the ground speed was only about 3.5 knots. It wasn’t unsafe, and I wasn’t worried, but after about 10 minutes I realized that the pitching motion of the boat was so drastic that I would never be able to sleep, fix food, or perhaps even safely go below. And at that speed, I wouldn’t be able to make any of my bail-out inlets for at least 24 hours. I did not want to be in such conditions, especially single-handed, for that long.
If I could have been sure that the winds would shift in the next hour or two, I would have continued. But, my experience so far has given me little confidence in marine forecasts. By this time, the current back at the inlet had started to shift, so I had to make a quick decision: 1) Continue in the current conditions and hope that the wind would change and the waves subside (but if they didn’t, I’d be screwed); or 2) Turn around immediately and try to make it back through the inlet before the outgoing current picked up to a point where it would create standing waves. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and turned around.
Surprisingly, I was not relieved but disappointed. As I said, I had been excited about doing a passage. But, I also knew my limitations while single handed, especially and with a weak autopilot. Instead of starting out the journey south with a huge leap offshore, I would now be having to plod along in the ICW for an indeterminant amount of time, hopefully just a few days, but possible a few weeks.
For awhile I had second doubts about my decision, especially as I passed a few other sailboats heading out the inlet and south as I went in. But, they all had at least two people aboard, and I had to be honest about my experience and limitations being alone. It was disappointing, but it was the right decision. And, as soon as I turned around, I made great time half surfing now ahead of the waves instead of plowing into them. I saw 7+ knots on the way through the inlet, which helped me pass through before the outgoing tide had picked up to anything significant.
It was now completely dark as I headed back toward Morehead City. I had scoped out a couple of different anchorages there for just this reason, and headed toward what seemed the best one in the existing conditions and the easiest to get into: Money Island Bay. The winds were pretty calm inside, the anchorage huge, and I had it to myself, so I dropped the hook without any problems around 6:30 pm and began planning my next steps south via the ICW since there wasn’t going to be another possible offshore window for around a week.
- Finding the appropriate inlets actually took a lot of research as the charts don’t really tell you how practical or hazardous they are. There are many more inlets than these along the coast, but for one reason or another are not appropriate for Serendipity. Also, just because an inlet is listed in my chart doesn’t mean that it’s always workable. If the current is contrary, or the winds too strong from a particular direction, etc., many inlets can be hazardous. Those are the inlets marked with an * on that chart. ↩︎