Honey Queen Adventures

The last time…

I awoke, for the last time on our journey, early this morning to clouds and rain that soon followed. We sipped our coffee, blogged a little, and by 8:30, I was on the bow, rain jacket donned, pulling up our anchor…for the last time on this trip.  For this 4-hour leg, my mind kept returning to the same thought:  That (whatever I’m doing at the moment) is the last time I’ll do “that” on this trip.  We believe, trust, and certainly hope there will be other trips.  All week, we have discussed our sinking moments, knowing that today this journey will end. 

We reached Hell Gate (a well-known tight spot on the ICW just prior to entering the Ossabaw Sound around noon. With a good push from the current, we were ahead of the 1 pm scheduled arrival.  Our welcome party that Amanda organized would not be there yet.  So, we rode past the entrance to Delegal Creek toward South Wassaw Island.  It was still there.  For twenty years, this beach has been our favorite “re-creation” spot. Lots of productive time was spent here, rebuilding brain cells from the stress of a 60 hour/week business. On this little beach are memories of building sand castles, picking up shells, throwing horseshoes, footballs, and frisbees, sitting under the umbrella eating pineapple sandwiches and Oreos, drinking cool refreshments, and napping, often waking to the drool on my t-shirt or bare chest, hoping no one had noticed.

The detour to South Wassaw allowed time for the reception to gather for our entry into Delegal Creek Marina.  I turned the Honey Queen around, and as fate would have it, hit bottom one more time (but probably not the last time).  Though the water was charted as 21 feet deep, I must have needed one more lesson in humility, because the water quickly became 4 feet deep (we draft 5 feet).  The idea of being stuck on a sand bar, on an outgoing tide, and having 15 people waiting on the dock was humiliating. I randomly picked a turn to port as an escape route.  The boat was barely moving as it slid through the sand; 4 feet…4 1/2 feet…5 feet…6 feet… and soon 21 feet of water (as charted) was below the keel. (Side note: I had the bottom of the boat scraped for barnacles before we left Marathon. The diver told me the bottom paint appeared to be in good shape, except the bottom of the keel. There was no paint there. I told him I knew where I had left that paint, recalling the number of shoals I had blazed). I was so relieved we broke loose and the show would go on. Though a little late for the 1:00 pm grand entrance, we pulled into Delegal Creek and wound our way to the marina. 

There, friends and family members yelled and waved to us, welcoming us home.  What a rush! Of course, now I would have a large audience for my (yes, I know) last docking of the trip. The pressure was on, knowing I would be under the microscope. With the wind blowing from the North and outgoing current going the opposite direction, I pulled into the fairway and attempted to back toward Slip #C-19.  The current grabbed the boat and started pushing me into the adjacent docks.  I was certain the wind would be the stronger of the two forces, but I was wrong.  And all these people are thinking, “How did so called “captain” get this far, the way he drives?”  I hit reverse as the current carried me sideways.  I was able to clear the boat on the face dock (by a safe margin) and regather my thoughts.  I turned the boat into the wind with the stern facing into the current, and proceeded to zig-zag into the slip, like I knew what I was doing.  I got a small round of applause from the members of the audience who were boaters.  I was far more relieved than proud at the outcome, because there were lots of pictures and witnesses.

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With many friends present, and 2 of our kids (Ben and Clint and wives and grandchildren) I was humbled.  Here we were home, safe and sound, hearts packed full of special memories and friendships that we will share for a lifetime, and all these kind folks were here to celebrate the closing of this chapter of our life, America’s Great Loop.  Amanda and Wes crossed their wake and are now, officially, Gold Loopers.

Trip Statistics

Distance traveled 6,231 (statute) miles

Hours (engine) 811

Average speed 7.7 mph

Fuel burn 3.87 mpg

Gallons used 1,610

Observations

Best Day May 4, 2019: This Saturday was filled with the wood boat show, the thrill of watching kids being mentored by adults, as they built and raced their new boats.

Worst Day June 21, 2019: We crossed the Chesapeake from Deltaville, heading to Tangier Island. The weather forecast called for lots of wind in the afternoon, but our ETA was noon, so I figured we would be fine. Not so. The rough seas stirred the debris in the bottom of the diesel tanks. At 11:00 am, the engine stopped, filters plugged, 1 hour from our destination. The Coast Guard rescued us and towed us to Tangier. It took us 4 days in the marina to get the nerve to cruise again.

Longest Day October 29, 2019: We boated 101 nautical (116 statute) miles in 10 hours., averaging more than 10 knots. Very swift current and no good place to stop or anchor; we flew down the Mississippi River!

Favorite Place August 25, 2019: The Pool at Collins Inlet, Georgian Bay. One of the prettiest places I’ve ever been. They say up here a dip in the Pool will change your life.

Epilogue–Crossing the Wake

On June 7, 2020, Honey Queen crossed her wake in Savannah, Georgia. Like many before us, the excitement and emotion of the symbolic crossing was a high for us both. One lesson, of many, we learned: Crossing your wake is the accomplishment of a large team, not just two, old retired folks.

To those who made this adventure possible, we salute and celebrate you. Larry, the former owner of our boat, who gave 4 days of his time to orient us with every detail on the boat he had loved. Captain Chris Caldwell, who taught us how to navigate and dock (and a 1,000 other details) the Honey Queen and built our confidence. They convinced us we could do it. To the professional tow operators, who answered our ignorant requests on the VHF, with a “1” or a “2”, we thank you for your kindness. Speaking for all Loopers, we thank Kim Russo for making this experience a positive.  She assisted in “herding the cats”, coordinating our groups to navigate the river system during lock closures.  And she lead the movement to resolve the outrageous anchoring law in my home state of Georgia.  That was a really big deal! Our buddy boats, On Missions, Salty Dog, Vitamin Sea, and All Talk II became more than friends.  Their expertise, wisdom, sense of humor, and companionship made our experience safer and LOTS more fun. Every marina operator and dock hand that caught a line, took our trash, pumped us out, and gave us local knowledge really filled a gap as we gained experience. And, of course, every Looper along the way, who became our neighbor, we are grateful to you for all the docktails and tall tales we shared along the way.  Without a doubt, the friendship of boaters brought great memories to the adventure. But the biggest recognition must go to the Admiral, the swabby, the cook, the organizer, the navigator, the roommate, and friend for more than 42 years, Amanda. She completes “my” Loop.

Fair winds, friends.

Wes & Amanda Dorman

Honey Queen

1998–39’ Krogen Hull #3 (of 51)

We pulled out a little later than our normal time allowing everybody to enjoy an extra few minutes of sleep.  At 9:30ish, we left the last marina of our Great Loop Adventure.  We went up the Mackay River and the Altamaha River.  We crossed the Altamaha, Doboy, and Sapelo Sounds, as well.  Other than some oddly placed and missing markers, we had no real challenges.  The tide was our friend more often than foe, granting faster than normal speeds. 

The highlight of the day was our encounter with a shrimp boat.  We passed by the shrimper, off to the side of a dredged creek.  His boat, the Warhorse, looked like it had weathered several wars.  Old, tattered, and ragged, he told us later, he had just acquired the boat, was from South Carolina, and was down here trying to make a living.  The tide was outgoing, but I figured a shrimper knows far more about the water than I ever would, so I waved and kept going.  He pulled in line between Steve and me, churning lots of mud in the process to get back in deeper water.  Had he not left right then, he would have been stuck for 4-5 hours, waiting on the tide. I called him on the VHF, offereing him the opportunity to pass if he wanted.  He said, “Naw, I’m aight.  Mada wrong turn back dar ‘n I’ll be headin’ back fo jus a lil wile, so don’t need no pass.”  He didn’t need to pass, but he did like following a little too closely for my comfort level.  His outriggers were down and my fear of possibly finding a sandbar first, and an outrigger shishkabobbing the Honey Queen, I called him and said I would be slowing down so he could ease around me.  He made a few other comments in his Geechee, South Carolina dialect, something to the effect that he would pass but would be turning off shortly. As he eased by, I called him once more.  “Throw me a couple shrimp as you ease by,” I called.  He responded, “Yont sum?”  “Absolutely!” was my answer.  I asked how many pounds he could let me have and how much did he want for them.  “Got any cigarettes?” was the response.  I apologized, “No sir, no cigarettes.”  He said, “Pull up on heah hind me, and I’ll give you some.”  So he stopped the boat, and I eased up to his transom.  Amanda perched up on the anchor pulpit and he handed her a trash bag full of fresh shrimp.  He didn’t want money.  I pulled a safe distance away from him and called him once more on the radio.  “I’m sorry I didn’t have any cigarettes for you,” I called.  He said, “Dat’s aight. I’ll be able to git some in a few.  Just say a little prayer for us, instead.”  I promised that I would be happy to do so.  I immediately asked God to bless this man for his faithfulness, and if it was God’s will, to fill his nets many times over.  I’ll probably never run into him again, but the experience was fun and I hope he does well as he tries to make it on his own as a shrimper.

Arriving just before 4:00 pm, the anchorage at Wahoo River (McIntosh County) was as pretty as so many before today.  Seems like yesterday (late April 2019), we were anchoring between Savannah and Beaufort, on our first night on the water. Nervous and completely oblivious to most conditions, we have enjoyed God’s hand of protection over this little trawler for more than a year, having been granted favor as we learned what we were doing.

Traveling with open doors and windows today, we did accumulate a few green headed, carnivorous flies.  They love to be inside, with people.  They were so thick, that after getting the anchor set, we closed up the boat, turned on the air conditioner, and killed a few dozen. Afterward, we were finally able to focus on dinner preparations.  I headed and cleaned all the shrimp while Amanda prepped okra and made a banana pudding.  I splashed the dinghy in the water for the last time, we loaded up the dinner groceries, and puttered to All Talk II.  Steve is a pretty good cook, having grown up with a mom in the restaurant business. He loves to don the apron and put on a show.  He cooked spaghetti squash and made his famous (to us anyway) Caesar salad.  We pulled out the shrimp and he sauteed them to perfection.  We ate like royalty. Stuffed and depressed, we sadly looked at one another, knowing this was our last dinner together on The Loop. 

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We rode the dinghy back to our boat in the dark (100 yards away) and shut down for the night.  Our last night on the water, like our first, was spent anchoring out, away from the sight of anything man-made, and away from sound, other than the restful rhythm of the water pattering on the bottom of the boat, comforting like a mother’s hand on the back of her child as he falls into a deep sleep. I will miss this.

Cumberland to St. Simon’s Island (Golden Isles Marina)

It’s good to be in Georgia. Anchoring in Cumberland Sound and seeing live oaks, the brown Atlantic waters, and the rich green marsh grass along the banks of the waterways felt like a giant welcome mat to these not so weary travelers. The breeze was gentle all night, and in rhythm with the gentle sway of the boat and fairly swift current, we slept well.

At 9ish, we pulled anchor and headed North (as usual).  With only 28 NM on the docket today, we arrived at Golden Isles Marina just after 1pm.  The docks look brand new, floating concrete, and what appears to be all teak decking inlaid.  The new power pedestals gave us fits when hooking up our electrical.  Neither Steve nor I have had any issues, but today we both did.  The marina staff was insistent we had ground fault issues on our boat.  I argued that I haven’t had them before today.  After my power tripped their breaker 4 times, they switched to another circuit.  Like magic, suddenly, MY ground fault issue went away and I had no more trouble.  They put in a call to their electician. Steve, on the other hand, was not able to resolve his issue as quickly, but did eventually find something on his boat contributing to the problem. Not knowing what I am talking about electrically, I do know the new GFI (ground fault interrupter) systems are extremely sensitive.  Fortunately, most of the marinas on this journey were either older, or they had, at least, worked out all their issues, so I have been to not deal with the headaches associated with this critical safety device.

I gave the Honey Queen an overdue bath this afternoon while Amanda caught up with her old girlfriend, Frances, who lives in St. Simon’s Island. We (Amanda) got the covers to all the seats in the salon washed, as well.  They need to be spotless because Sunday afternoon we will be home and thousands will be there waving ‘Welcome Home’ signs, and our boat, inside and out, must look perfect for the cruise into our final stop.

The Coastal Kitchen is the onsite restaurant at the marina.  Sometimes, these places are tourist traps and serve mediocre bar food, but occasionally, they are really nice.  With the convenience of a restaurant at the end of the pier, we “carless” couples decided it was worth the risk, so we made reservations.  We started with calamari, second only to that we recently enjoyed at the Daytona Chart House. Our meals of fried shrimp, shrimp and grits, boiled shrimp, and a filet all got 4 stars.  We waddled back to the boat, I plotted our trip to the Wahoo River anchorage for the next day, and fell asleep to the hum of the cool dry air conditioning blowing against my face.

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We jumped up this morning and got out of the marina just after 8 am.  The tide was high so we didn’t have any concerns getting through their channel. Our journey of 34 NM seemed to go pretty fast; it did take just over 5 hours.  We found a delightful anchorage just west of Cumberland Island and after getting our anchors secure, Steve deployed his dinghy and picked us up.  We went to the public dock on the island and walked among the gorgeous live oaks and on the beaches.  We toured the ruins of the 34,000 square foot home of Andrew Carnegie that burned in 1959.  The layout of the plantation and the history surrounding this late 19^th and 20^th century estate was so interesting.  Wild horses and deer are plentiful and we saw them a number of times as we walked.  We got plenty of exercise and enjoyed every minute.  The forecasted rain did pepper us all morning while underway, but it avoided us while we were on our walk.  The sun even came out as we were headed back to the dinghy.  We rode in the dinghy up and down the west side of the island (we don’t get enough boat riding) and saw the Greyfield Inn.  An exclusive, historic (and we all know what exclusive means) hotel, Amanda wants me to bring her back here some time.  I figure I can sell the boat and maybe we can stay a couple nights sometime.

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We all came back to the boat and ate so much cheese and crackers we skipped eating supper. We watched a beautiful sunset and then walked to the other side of the boat and watched the full moon rise. 

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We watched the Coast Guard boats and Navy warships go by (we are almost in sight of King’s Bay, the nuclear submarine base).  We hope to see one of those awesome submarines as we cruise by the base on the ICW tomorrow morning.

As I write tonight, I am very introspective.  It just occurred to me that we will anchor one more night and stay in a marina one more night.  Sunday afternoon, this adventure will be over, and neither of us likes that idea even one little bit.  The reunion with friends and family will be sweet.  We have missed them.  Our grandchildren await; we hope they remember Honey and Poppy.  We do look forward to being a part of their routine and making sure they are properly spoiled.  But we will miss the days, the nights, the adventure, the friends, and all the surprises that have made us now who we are. The worn out cliché:  we don’t know what the future holds, but we do know Who holds the future, seems especially surreal now.  We rest in what will be next, not knowing exactly what that is.  How we do hope that some of our future includes the gentle sway of a trawler at an anchorage, soaking up lunar light on a breezy night.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO US!!!!!!  42 YEARS AT NOON!!

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We rolled out of River’s Edge Marina at 9:15 to ensure we made the 10 am bridge opening at the famous Bridge of Lions.  With a good following current, we made it so fast, we had to wait.

The forecast called for rain for several days, starting tonight, so we tried to savor the sun as much as possible by riding on the flybridge.  We drove through lots of residential areas ranging from modest to extravagant homes.  Ponte Vedra meets the definition of extravagant for sure.  We agreed these homes were not so palatial that they seemed unrealistic to live in. They looked as though normal people probably lived in them.

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We got to Palm Cove just before 2:30, dead low tide.  I had called the marina, concerned about their skinny water channel. They had assured me we would have plenty of water with our 5’ draft boats. Steve chickened out and waited for the incoming tide.  I decided to go for it to see if I could get in.  The worse that could happen would be getting stuck on a shoal and have to wait for the tide to return.  I saw a my depth of 4.4 feet at one point, but it was very soft so I pushed on through it and we made it without too much excitement.  Palm Cove is where our friends Bill and Anette keep their boat, or as we jokingly say, our boat.  In 2018, they were boat shopping at the same time as us.  The boat they now own came on the market.  When I saw it on the internet, I called my broker to make an appointment to see it.  He made the appointment for Sunday afternoon, near Jacksonville.  But Saturday, my broker called and said the boat was under contract already.  Bill and Anette had bought it.  It was about 4 weeks later, we found the Honey Queen in Stuart, Florida, and then bought it in December.  When we went to pick it up in January, we met Bill and Anette, who were staying in the same marina.  We have since talked from time to time, sharing ideas about things we do on our boats.  By the way, their boat is the exact same model as ours, so they look identical.  We ran into them at the marina in Ft. Myers in February, so when we told them we would be coming up the East coast in June, they insisted we come to their marina at Palm Cove.  We joined them for coffee on their boat, then Anette took Amanda and Susie to the grocery.  We planned dinner for the 6 of us, pooled our groceries, and had a nice evening on their boat. What a nice way to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

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A Day in St. Augustine

Today was dedicated to playing tourist.  With trolley tickets and tickets to the chocolate factory in hand, we made ready for our day.  There is never a convenient time to have a plumbing issue, and we seldom have a schedule, except today.  Every few months, our shower sump pump gets clogged with…you know, stuff, stuff that resembles long blonde hair.  When this happens, it becomes a pumpless sump, not a sump pump.  It tries real hard and runs forever, but water just stands in the shower and sometimes overflows into the midship bilge.  The bottom line today: if a shower is to be taken, the sump pump will be unclogged first. I got it cleaned out, we ran through the shower, got dressed, and took off on our 15-minute walk to the chocolate factory.  At 10:03 (for our 10:00 tour), we walked in and the cute little boy in the reception area said the tour had already started.  I said, we will be glad to catch up.  “Well, you missed the safety orientation, so we can’t let you join them.” So the extensive safety orientation (3 minutes after 10 and the tour group is already gone) must have been so detailed we would never be able to stay safe in the production area.  All the being nice and being aggressive got us no where, so we walked out…without the taste of chocolate samples in our mouths.

Old Town Trolley soon came by at one of its designated stops, so we hopped on and rode around the city.  One stop was at a history museum, where I learned much about the Spanish influence on the city, how the French and English had their turns, but ultimately, the Spanish prevailed.  I must find a book or two to reinforce what all I tried to absorb today.  Lunch at Meehan’s, an Irish pub, was over the top. Then we toured a Catholic museum, a distillery, and a winery.  So much going on in this little city, and we had a great time.  Steve and Susie, our partners in crime, were with us every step of the way.  We packed all we could into the day. 

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We got back to the boat just in time for our visitors.  Our daughter in law, Elizabeth, her mom, Catherine, Catherine’s sister, Susan and her 4 children Sean, Henry, Genevieve, and Jonathon came to the boat from their beach house rental.  Our little boat was full.  I gave the boat tour, and then we wandered the marina while Catherine and Amanda had deep discussions about our children. Steve and Susie dropped by as that crew was leaving.  The four of us ended up making a pizza from scratch and then finishing off the meal with ice cream and some of Amanda’s homemade chocolate sauce.  That chocolate factory ain’t got nothing on Amanda’s sauce.  And if they ever want some, I may not share.…especially if they are 3 minutes late.

Lots of walking and rubbernecking today wore us all out. I was almost ready to invite Steve & Susie to their boat, when they decided on their own to leave. We had a great day, learning much, and seeing some family.

Almost 7 hours and 46.3 NM made today one of our longest.  The current was kind to us nearly all day, approaching an inlet at the outgoing tide and getting a push as the tide reversed shortly thereafter to a flood (incoming). My old pace of 7 knots turned to 9 knots frequently, making our 7 ½ hour projection become less than seven.

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We got some local knowledge for St. Augustine from the dockmaster and took off walking.  We walked almost 2 hours looking and also bought trolley tickets for a city tour tomorrow morning. 

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The town is gorgeous, and like Savannah, loaded with history.  I do look forward to seeing and learning.  We will stay here 2 nights so we can take advantage of the full day tomorrow.  We plan to tour the town, go to a winery, a distillery, a chocolate factory, and a museum.

When we got back to the marina, we stopped at Hurricane Patti’s the restaurant on site.  We got a beer and some appetizers, called it dinner, and Amanda went to bed.  I did my routine writing and uploading pictures and was soon snoozing myself.