4AM and my iPhone alarm is buzzing. I need to weigh anchor and get underway before the 4:38AM start of the Winyah Bay inlet’s flood current. Somehow I lose track of time and don’t get underway till 5AM. 

First light won’t occur until 6:24AM. 

I weave my way through the other anchored boats quietly without shining my spotlight directly on them. It’s dark but the radar and spotlight are helping me find the daymarks and buoys that line the channel out the inlet and into the Atlantic. 

Now at 6:05, 19 minutes before first light, if I look to the east, I can differentiate sky from the sea. 

Moments later and First Light has arrived.

Now it’s 7AM and at the sun is looking like a giant lightbulb on the eastern horizon.

Friends have found me.

As the day goes on the following sea can be felt. As I walk through the salon I can hear the rhythmic sound of my wine glasses rocking back and forth in their upside down holder.

I open the back door to get a better look at the following sea.

I spot my first ship around 2PM. 

It’s cargo vessel Triton and it will pass less than a mile from me with our current course and speeds. 

Though I will not pass any other recreational traffic this far out I do come upon a second, equally as massive container ship on a crossing path. 

I decide to spend some time on the bow and video as I go

The sun has begun to set. 

I settle in for the long night. When I go offshore as opposed to running in the ICW or “The Ditch” as it is called, there isn’t much to do. I plan my route and set my course and speed. The autopilot is engaged so no need to hold the helm. I do however need to maintain a constant watch for buoys or passing ships. My chosen route is a rhumb line between Winyah Bay Inlet and St. Augustine Inlet. Rhumb lines are courses navigators use to make it easy on themselves. A rhumb line only requires the captain to steer a constant magnetic bearing. I can hear the geometry nerds shouting… “The shortest route on the surface of a sphere is actually the arc of a great circle!”. On mercator projection charts a rhumb line is a straight line. My rhumb line route takes me about 45NM offshore. 

Explained another way… If you stare at the picture of “globe Earth” below, keep this in mind. The longitudinal lines come together at the North Pole. If you are sailing either of the two routes drawn below, your compass needle’s would align to the longitude lines. The “rhumb line” route you steer a constant heading according to the compass while the shorter “great circle” route has you starting out at one compass heading and constantly steering more east as you go from left to right.

I don’t anticipate seeing many ships or buoys this far out. My watch duties are reduced to:

• Scanning the horizon
• Checking radar
• Checking my boats position to my route every three minutes or so. 

 With minimal watch required it’s time to watch movies while at the helm. I preload media onto my iPads so when a cell signal is nowhere to be found… I still have entertainment. 

Tonight’s Sunset is a burning sky. 

As the sun sets… the burning sky gives way to a night sky. This is why we boat. This is an addicting drug.

The sun slides beneath the waves. A waxing crescent, hangs above the flames of a burning horizon. I’m sure I’ve seen this surreal painting. An artist’s dream or mine? In a mere hour’s time, the moon follows her partner beneath that distant horizon. The boat surges forward with each wave, piercing the black velvet bedsheet stretched before her. The blackness offers up a gift. The stars are the only things left around. This far out to sea, the glow from land is all but snuffed out. The moment is now. I douse all the lights aboard and run to the bow. My bare feet upon the cold salty deck.  The diesel’s growl is but a whisper to the parting ocean that crashes to both sides of me. The deck pitches, yaws and rolls and I am forced to a seated position. Forward facing into a brisk invisible wind. I lay prone. Above me the stars fixed in their galactic positions sway to and fro. It’s an undeniable existential moment. Your presence in this universe comes rushing into your headspace. Why am I here? I am here! I am certain my presence is to be the mirror mother universe uses to gaze upon herself.

CaptMahty

At night when I’m underway laying on the bow my steaming light illuminates the American flags I fly on my VHF antennas. 

Sometimes If I want to be seen, I  turn on my flybridge lights to better illuminate for passing ships. 

As I look down at my iPhone’s moon app. I notice that as the boat is rocking the app developers have coded the moon app’s background to move with the iPhone’s accelerometer. The apps stars appear to sway like the ones above my head.

The night was long and dark. The 5’ following sea could occasionally be seen as its white froth breaks and roars past the front of the boat. I cannot keep pace with the following sea so each wave lifts the boat’s stern and eventually I slide down the face of the wave as it slips past me.

When Sunrise comes my weariness subsides and I feel a second-wind. 

Friends are here.

Now 3PM, I’m making my way into St. Augustine Inlet. Hurricane Dorian wiped out all the inlet markers so there are no buoys found marking the channel. No worries though as with the incoming waves it’s not hard to spot where the shoals are. 

As I make my way in the inlet a beautiful Palm Beach motor yacht passes me.

Once inside the jetty walls I find a sailboat peacefully making way. 

I have been told that St. Augustine is a favorite by many a cruiser. Seems every time I arrive here I’m in a hurry to be someplace else. This time is no different. As I pass St. Augustine’s City Marina I view this beautiful yacht resting against the outer dock. 

The Sun is getting low as I make my way south of St. Augustine, FL. 

My anchorage for the night is Matanzas as it puts me close to where I want to be around noon tomorrow. 

Now with the anchor down I can finally relax and close my eyes. 

Today’s W04L013 route looked like this.