Idiot with a shotgun

On our tenth leg of the trip, we found ourselves in some shallow, narrow passages in Georgia between Savannah and the Florida state line.  Just before reaching Florida and while passing a resort property labeled Cabin Bluffs, we had a bit of a scare with a local ridding the property of large rodents.

As we rounded a small bend, Joe, Karen, and I heard a shotgun blast in the wooded area just off of our starboard side.  Keep in mind that the passage is narrow so we weren’t far from shore.  Plus, we’re busy concentrating on keeping the keel from running aground.

Soon after the shotgun blast, a young man emerged from the woods carry a large, seemingly dead rodent.  He threw the carcass into the water between us and the shore not noticing the 30-foot sailboat less than 100 feet away from him. 

What happened next was frightful.

He raised the shotgun and basically pointed it at us in the cockpit of the sailboat.  He pulled the trigger.

Realizing what was happening, I ducked down in the cockpit just as the blast was fired.  I raised back up almost immediately and yelled, “Hello, friend. How are you?”

OK.  That’s not what I yelled. 

First, it wasn’t a yell.  It was a scream.  An expletive-laced scream, in fact. 

As it turns out, I get very angry when I think a person’s carelessness is endangering my life.  And let me be clear about this: This guy fired a shotgun at an animal carcass he’d thrown into the water not realizing that three of us were on the other side of that carcass just 70 or so feet away, directly in line from what he was shooting. 

We were fortunate that his shot didn’t bounce off the surface of the water; or that he hadn’t slipped when firing so that the barrel was raised a few inches to target us; or that a myriad of other possibilities occurred that could have resulted in tragedy.

We were close enough to each other that he had no trouble hearing me or my vocabulary lesson. 

At first, he was stunned.  He lowered the shotgun and seemed to shrug, expressing regret.  Then, he seemed to get angry that I called him on his stupidity.

For quite a while after the encounter, I remained angry.

Of course, my friends, Karen and Joe, the boat owners, were horrified at the experience.  First, they were horrified that we were being shot at.  Then, their horror shifted to me because I was screaming at a guy with a shotgun.

We were motoring at the time and we simply puttered on by the idiot at five knots with no further exchange. 

We were safe.  The boat wasn’t damaged.  And the idiot with the shotgun was lucky.

Leg Ten

July 24, 2015

Anchored out on the Atlantic ICW at Buttermilk Sound, Georgia, to Fernandina Beach Marina in Fernandina Beach, Florida

Approximately 55 miles

Leg Nine

July 23, 2015

Anchored out on the Atlantic ICW near Moon River, Georgia, to anchored out on the Atlantic ICW at Buttermilk Sound, Georgia

Approximately 56 miles

Leg Eight

July 22, 2015

Beaufort City Marina at Beaufort, South Carolina to anchored out on the Atlantic ICW near Moon River, Georgia

Approximately 68 miles

Leg Seven

July 21, 2015

Anchored out in the Atlantic ICW at Alligator Creek, South Carolina to Beaufort City Marina at Beaufort, South Carolina

Approximately 62 miles

Leg Six

July 20, 2015

St. John’s Yacht Basin in Charleston, South Carolina, to anchored out in the Atlantic ICW at Alligator Creek, South Carolina

Approximately 72 miles

Sea of enchantment...

Heading out from Beaufort, NC.

We’re in the St. John’s Yacht Marina after our first offshore passage and all I can think of to describe the jaunt is “enchanting.” 

This leg was about 240 miles from Beaufort, North Carolina, to Charleston, South Carolina.  Basically, we were sailing south from Beaufort for a hundred miles or so and hanging a right for a hundred miles into Charleston.  On this course, we would avoid the Frying Pan Shoals which have claimed many a boat over the years.  The charts were littered with “wreck” markings in the shoal area so we opted to go around the area but staying a little offshore.  Plus, the twenty-somethings wanted to say they’d sailed in international waters.  Potentially, we could have gotten out to sea with no wind and sat looking at each other for hours as Oblivion bobbed in the water.  That was the real downside potential for this planned course.  But that didn’t happen.

Sunset from Oblivion.

Why do I call it enchanting?  Because everything went right as far as the sailing.  I’ve never seen anything like it.

Despite having the threat of thunderstorms every day, not one storm was encountered.  In fact, I don’t know that anyone could have scripted the weather better.  With the winds coming from our rear quarter, a following sea, and picking up the Gulf Stream’s reverse current (The Gulf Stream runs south to north but part of the current catches the land mass at Hatteras and forces it to curve back around, flowing south along this part of the East Coast at the Carolinas.), it was as close to perfect as anything I’d ever seen.  We even only had to fly one of the two sails for much of the trip to maintain a good speed and boat stability.

Not only was the weather ideal allowing us to sail five, six, and sometimes hit seven knots, but the Atlantic was very generous to us in terms of entertainment and experiences.

Just outside of Beaufort, we saw many naval vessels including a couple of destroyers and an aircraft carrier that was launching six Ospreys, the helicopter-airplane hybrid used for troop movements.  We also saw the Coast Guard using a skiff and Chinook helicopter for training as well as a few cargo vessels and interesting yachts.

Dolphins swimming alongside.

In addition to the naval show, the dolphins really turned out for our trip.  We had four encounters in the two daytimes at sea.  Pods of dolphins would swim up alongside of the boat and then take turns swimming and frolicking around the bow of Oblivion as we made five knots.

While the dolphins provided the daytime entertainment, at night, it was time to take the bimini back and take in the incredible intergalactic show that can only be seen when you are offshore.  While thunderstorms provided a lightning show in the distance, the skies directly above Oblivion were incredibly clear.  Because we didn’t have a moon for much of the night, the Milky Way was spectacular as were the seemingly frequent shooting stars that streaked across the sky. 

But not everything was enchanting.  With the exception of Karen, everyone reported pangs of sea sickness especially the first day.  After our first lunch at sea of baloney sandwiches, I reported my sea sickness by throwing up over the side of Oblivion with the grace and style of a super model.  Afterward, Karen merely said, “That was good baloney.”  I have no idea how she acquired such a sweet reputation.

Karen's sarongs provided heat relief.

Also, the sun was a bit intense by day two.  Karen used wet sarongs to shield us from the direct sunlight and provide a little relief from the heat.  It worked well. 

The other aspect of our trip that wasn’t enchanting was our efforts at casting a fishing line in the hopes of reeling in a big catch.  All we did was contribute lures and fishing line to the sea.  We were no threat to the fish in the Atlantic.

Overall, the trip was enchanting.  It’s one of the best offshore sailing passages I’ve ever experienced.  I’m glad the twenty-somethings could experience it before they had to pack up and head back to their working lives in Baltimore.