Sam & Roberto overslept after they were the ones who went on about getting up early!

Six sailboats sailed out that morning into the fog and darkness.

Heard from turbulence by email: they are still up on stands with a prop shaft rand cutlass bearing repair.

Weather heavier than expected. Thought about turning back but didn’t want to be the only boat. Wanted to stay with the flock.

Tried to just sail and cut our engine, but that made us fall behind and Good Goose and Dream Catcher went on ahead.

Worried and afraid, we regretted not staying inside and hanging out in St. Augustine for the day.

Sam stayed with us which helped calm us.

Couldn’t sail comfortably down wind but didn’t want to get too far from shore. It wouldn’t have been fine but we were afraid and scared. Just flew the jib and had to motor sail the whole time.

Towing the dinghy was hell. It filled with water from the huge waves and submarined and was constant worry for fouling the prop or breaking the tow line.

A little rain, a little fog.

Watched a coast guard rescue operation in progress with helicopter recovery. That didn’t make us feel too comfortable with the weather conditions.

Kept watch for right whales. No sightings.

Couldn’t eat, too nervous. Made new speed record: 11.2 knots surfing down huge swells.

Around noon we realized we were over half way! Then we took shifts and got to warm up inside for a while and stated to feel better about everything.

Never towing the dinghy outside again!!!

Inlet was difficult, to say the least. To enter it at night is to commit suicide. Met up with Roark and entered together. Roberto was ahead of us by half an hour and Sam was behind us by an hour. He had rigging troubles and came in drunk and stoned with no gps and no chart.

Sea tow talked to us on the radio before we made the inlet run, and he really saved our asses with local knowledge.

Had to round the north jetty inside the markers.

Rafted up on the nearest creek, all swinging on Dream Catcher’s anchor.

Sam couldn’t tell north from south, let alone use a gps or chart. We had to repeat directions sometimes up to a dozen times to him. We were all pretty pissed at him by the end, and Roberto was the angel that kept us on task of making sure he got in safely.

Met his passenger: the one armed pirate!

All had a good calming and processing dinner on Rob’s boat.

All’s well that ends well!

Sailed for the rest of the day today on a nice reach in 15 knot west winds. Dream Catcher and Zarnista continued on ten miles farther to Fort Worth, but Good Goose and Wee Happy stopped here and got a mooring ball early–around 3:00pm. We dinghied over to the marina and got a ride to the beach.

There we met up with Lala’s friends Erin and Josh from New York. We’d met up with them early on our trip back in Troy, and they came out with us for a little sail on the Hudson.

Now we’re back on the boat, and the moon is rising over the calm waters. We’re about to grill up some steaks and oysters for Sherry’s last night. She flies out of Fort Lauderdale tomorrow. Then Roark picks up his mother at the same airport, and she’s going to visit him on Good Goose for a while.

So the time of our four sailboat fleet has unfortunately come to an end. Roberto has to fly out to Boston on Sunday, and Sam is continuing on to Miami.

We have yet to figure out where we’ll be for Christmas.

Steel Dreams passed us today. They are having hard times and are going to have to end their trip. We learned from them that Kimbel on s.v. Kestrel decided to stay here for the winter. So with Steel Dreams having to sell their boat and Turbulence still on stands awaiting repairs, that first four sailboat fleet that we traveled with has disbanded also.

So it is on the ICW. Not all boats make it. Many have mechanical troubles. Many have crew problems. Others have financial problems. We’re counting our blessings that we are still in the game and guided on our path, even though we know not where it leads.

We’re currently thinking that we want to cross to the Bahamas, but that is dependent on us receiving our Coast Guard documentation and fixing Wee Happy’s forestay chainplate. That’s coming in the mail as I write this, and hopefully we’ll have both by Christmas eve. If not, then we’ll probably continue south along Florida to the keys.

Capt’n K.

December 22, 2010
Launched from the rafted flotilla in Indian Head Beach by Dragon Point at 07:30. light west winds. Raised the main and unfurled the genoa since we’d be on a beam reach for most of the day! We still had to motorsail in order to keep up with the other boats. The winds were right at around 10:00 for flying the gennaker, so I doused the genoa.

Instant stress. 1st mate clearly wasn’t mentally prepared for the task. What was supposed to be beautiful turned out to be a disgusting mess that ended in her rather completely “losing it.”

The day is about 70 degrees, sunny, and warm with nice west winds at just the right speed for sailing, so you’d think that it would be fantastic. The complete breakdown of respectful communication has tarnished it for me, and I have not yet been able to enjoy the blue green waters and brilliant sun now. This sucks.

I just want off. The hell with this.

Not happy on wee happy today.
Capt’n K.

12/18/2010

Woke up slowly and tired after having quite a few drinks the night before with the crew. Sailors sure can drink! Made our way to the dinghy dock paddling our dinghy whitewater-raft style since we had the outboard motor stowed on the sailboat’s deck for safe keeping.

We had pulled our Genoa (front sail) down from Wee Happy and brought it with us in the dinghy. The foot of the sail had ripped out a couple of days earlier, and we had found a “sail loft” in St. Augustine that could fix it that day. Tom from Irish Sail Lady met us at the dock and picked it up from us. He is the “Irish Sail Lady’s” husband. I couldn’t help but ask him if he by any chance had an asymmetrical spinnaker (big multicolored front sail for use in downwind runs and light airs) for sale that would fit our boat. Lala and I have been wanting one for a while now to turbo charge our down wind runs, and they are just so pretty! He said that he actually did have one that might fit, and he’d check the measurements and get back to me.

Then we meandered through town to a little diner where the sailors were meeting for breakfast. It was the type of place where the wait staff gives you attitude and bad service and expects a good tip. Whatever! After waiting for half an hour I finally got up and got my own coffee refill. At least the servings were large!

We walked through town to a consignment & used sailing gear store called the Sailors Exchange. Along the way we met a couple of other sailors with the most delicious accent. Turns out that Martin and Johanna are from Sweden. They just purchased their boat, Snowbird, in one of the Carolinas, and they are new sailors like us. Of course they knew the pedigree of our boat, since the Vega is from Sweden! So while we reveled in listening to their wonderful accents, we hoped to get to spend some more time with them along the way south.

The Sailors Exchange was a dense packrat-warehouse of everything that is ever needed or wanted on a sailboat. It kind of makes you numb! It’s sort of like Wal-Mart in that there are shelves piles seven feet high or more and at least a foot deep with stuff everywhere the eye can see! There is simply so much stuff that it was hard for me to keep my focus and a clear head! We’d hoped to find a propane galley range (2-burner propane stove for the boat’s kitchen), and we found one that was brand new and 25% cheaper than West Marine. Sadly the stovetop would barely fit one large 10” skillet, let alone two pans. I suppose it could fit two 6” pans, but what use is that? So we passed it up and left empty handed. It was too bad, but we were happy that we hadn’t mail ordered that model only to find out that it was in fact too small.

On the way home we stopped at a “chocolate warehouse” named Whetstone Chocolates. In one building they make the fine chocolate, and in another building they have a sweet little cozy café where you can purchase the chocolates and coffee and gelato. YUM! The rum raisin gelato was delicious!

Next on the walk back to the marina was the Irish Sail Lady shop. Linda, the sail maker, had repaired the foot of our Genoa and it was ready to pick up. While we were there Tom pulled out the spinnaker for us to inspect. It’s an asymmetrical spinnaker (a.k.a. gennaker) from North Sails that came from an O’Day 27. It was beautiful and multicolored with the primary colors. The fabric was crisp and solid and tight. There was no visible damage or stress or wear anywhere on it. It looked like it had never been flown! Roark and Roberto looked it over with us. The sail came with a “sock” that is used to both fly and douse the sail. All the rigging and hardware was included. It was pristine. I bartered with Tom and put in an offer of $400 for it all, knowing that it was in new condition and would sell for $1,400 new easily. He called the owner, since it was a consignment item, and we settled on $475. What a dream! So Linda packed us all in her car along with our fixed genoa and new gennaker and drove us back to the docks. Awesome!

Back at the marina, we did laundry and got gas and a few groceries before sunset. Roark moved his boat onto a mooring right next to ours. Then we all got a dinghy ride over to Roberto’s boat, Dream Catcher for a fine dinner together.

Roberto is Italian, and loves to cook. He has a 44 foot sloop with an immense galley and main salon. Seating around the huge dinging table is for six adults easily. He made spaghetti (yay for Italians who make pasta for us Americans) and lamb, and we all swooned in appreciation. Everyone told tall tales and big fish stories until we noticed the wind pick up. Sam and I stepped outside to find a fresh cold wind from the north that was blasting in cold fog. Yuck! It was bitter cold as we watched the city dissappear behind the veil.

Never the less, the consensus was that tomorrow was the day to go outside on an ocean run down the coast. The forecast had the right wind direction and speed and wave height.: 15-20 knot winds and 2-3 foot seas. It was supposed to be cloudy and cold in the morning but to clear and reduce wind speed in the afternoon. The course would be a 55 mile run that we expected to complete before nightfall.

Turned out to be much more than we expected, and we listened to the wind howl that night from our v-berth in wee happy worrying that the seas wouldn’t have time enough to “lay down” before we took off in the morning. Six sailboats were heading out, so there was consensus among the flock.

We just went outside yesterday for the first time sine the Jersey coast. Before that we met up with a few other sailors that were all waiting in St. Augustine for the weather window to open.

We pushed into St. Augustine late in the day, passing up a nice marsh anchorage around 3:30pm. We tried to sail for a little while, but the wind was on the nose again, even though the sun was out, and it was beautiful. On approach to St. Augustine at sunset, we were greeted by a pirate ship! It came out of the city harbor and through the drawbridge covered in lights and pirates. The city skyline was a veritable feast for the eyes.

St. Augustine is the oldest city in America, they say. Ponce de Leon landed there and fathered the city, just like he did in Puerto Rico. There is a fabulous Spanish fort there that matches the fort in San Juan Puerto Rico. All of the buildings on the waterfront were covered in lights, and the central park full of immense live oak trees was a carnival of lit trees.

We decided to pick up a mooring ball from the city marina rather than anchor out. That gave us access to the city through the marina, laundry facilities, bathrooms, and showers. Sweet!

We called our other cruising friends to see if anyone else was in St. Augustine and found that Roark & Sherry, our Vermonter friends from s.v. Good Goose were there! We’d expected them to be long gone south, but they’d held up in St. Augustine because it is such a wonderful city.

We resolved to connect up that evening at a bar with fifty beers on tap! We were so happy to see each other and reminisce and process about running aground on the Wahoo river. Turns out that they ran aground the very next day! Twice! The second time they had to wait out the tide until the boat floated off! Lucky for them they were not in a gale like we were.

The day after we ran aground, we decided to rest in our anchorage on the Wahoo river, while Roark and Sherry decided to head out and continue on. The logic was that it was better to continue on in nasty weather rather than sit on anchor in nasty weather and make no progress. They “got the snot beat out of them” though! Roark said that the gale winds were right on the nose the entire time and the chop was too. It was so strong that he couldn’t even keep his boat’s nose into the wind. It would just get blown over to the other side every time he woud try. At that time, even at full throttle, he made only 0.2 knots headway! All day was around freezing but with a 30+ mile per hour windchill. Add to that the fact that they took on water over the bow filling the cockpit and soaking them with bucketfulls of water every wave for hours!

We were nice and tidy in our anchorage while they were going through cold wet hell. Glad we decided to wait it out! We both learned lessons from that one!

After the 50-beer bar, we went to another place where a blues band was playing and a bunch of sailors were hanging out that Roark had cruised with at times along the way south. The walk there was a fun filled adventure through a boisterous town with eeryone out in santa hats and raindeer horns. Choo choo train shuttles toured around the city full of laughing happy people that would wave and shout “hey” to everyone on the street.

At the blues bar we met the other sailors, namely Roberto on Dream Catcher, and Sam on Zarnitsa. We would later travel with them both on our way outside on the ocean from At. Augustine to Daytona Beach’s Ponce de Leon inlet.

As it turned out, I knew Sam! He and I had met years before at Morningside flight park in New Hampshire. He’s a paraglider pilot who’s flown in Iceland and lots of other places in the world. As it turns out, he was also the yacht broker that brokered the sale of our sailboat to its previous owner! He also had brokered the sale of Good Goose to its previous owner, so he knew both our and Roark’s boats personally! Who knew! He played harmonica with the blues band, and the only person dancing was a crazy one armed man that looked like a skeleton or a pirate!

We all went back to Sams boat to check it out and hang out a little before heading to bed. His boat, Zarnitsa, is amazing. It is a 31 foot long mini-transat boat, which means that it was built for transatlantic racing in a class of boats that are less than, say, 40 feet long. It is a gorgeous, sleek knife of a boat with a huge mast and long fin keel. It is all rich Siberian chestnut & Russian white oak wrapped in fiberglass with mahogany interior. It has a delicious warm feeling inside. That boat is a lot to handle, though! Performance and speed come at the cost of constant attention and difficult handling in heavy weather. All the things that made it sexy also made it a bit scary. What a beautiful small boat.

It’s been a frustrating process, and it’s taken much agonizing, but Lala finally mastered the bowline knot yesterday!

Most people teach the knot by describing the standing part of the rope/line as a “tree” and the loop at the bottom of it as a “rabbit hole.” Then the end of the line is the “rabbit” who pops up through the hole, runs around the tree, and then dives back into his hole.

That’s an easy description, but getting the fingers to understand the process of tying the knot is a much different matter.

The bowline is an excellent knot because it makes a loop at the end of a line, it is easily untied, and it does not jam after being heavily loaded, and it does not horribly decrease the strength of the line.

Any knot decreases the breaking strength of a line. Many decrease the strength of the line by over 50% because the knot becomes the weak point. But, the bowline is popular because it doesn’t decrease the strength of the line that much.

So if you don’t know a bowline, then check out the picture and grab a rope or string and see if you can figure it out! It’s one of the most useful knots around!

Capt’n K

Today we were stopped by the Coast Guard. We were transiting a section of the waterway by a submarine building facility. It just happened that while we were there making our meager 5-knot headway, a huge high-tech submarine came speeding in the inlet escorted by two Coast Guard gun boats. The first came roaring up to us with a man stationed at the machine gun on the bow, eying us seriously.

Then the second gun boat came to back up the first. We stated our intentions to stay clear to the west and wait out the passing submarine. The gun boat stayed with us to make sure that we didn’t mean any funny business! Imagine us meaning funny business with a nuclear submarine!!!

The strange thing was how seriously the 18 year-old machine gunner was eying us. He never took his eyes off of us. I sat there admiring his tether (safety strap connecting him to his boat and gun) and wondering if he was cold.

The sub passed quickly, and soon the gun boats went roaring off to escort him into the sub “yard.”

What a blast!

We made it to Florida! We passed through Hells Gate. We dealt with the constant turns and troubles of the Georgia waterway. We made it through the Great Dismal Swamp. We survived a gale while aground. We managed to not get run down by a speeding container ship. We met many wonderful people, and we have seen so many wonderful places.

And, today we crossed into sunny Florida. The arctic blasts from the south have stopped, and warmer winds are prevailing. The Carolinas are getting hammered with sleet and freezing rain, and we’ve made it just far enough south to escape the slop. Whew!

What a relief!

The days are short. The solstice is near. We get up before dawn, anchor before sunset, and sleep after dark. Every day we see the sun rise and set. We watch the stars to see Polaris descend slowly the further south we migrate. Herons and cranes and pelicans surround us. We marvel at the reflections that we see in the water. We sample oysters from the sea. Salt is everywhere. The marshes extend like great grasslands and savannahs for miles around us.

The forests are a complicated mixture of great live oaks that extend above like enormous protecting arms covered with flowing and dangling wisps of Spanish moss. Tall pines tower towards the sky and shelter palms in their shade. Jungles of fan leaved palms intertwine with small cacti on the forest floor. Here you would need a sharp machete and sturdy boots to make your way through the woods. There are no rocks. Only sand lies beneath the life, and that sand is infiltrated by salt. Salt is everywhere.

With the cold behind us, we remember our bodies. We emerge from countless layers of insulation to recall our skin. Our toes still have yet to touch the sand. Our bodies still have yet to submerge in the waters, yet the waters are warming.

I remember to breathe. Stress suppresses the diaphragm. After the sun descends beneath the western horizon and the colors bleed quickly from the endless sky, the mind is awash with business. The tendrils of the rat race are slow to die, and I must use my will to command my self to relax.

It’s okay to relax.

It’s okay to relax.

I tell myself this over and over in the night. Here, now, I do not have to “do” in order to exist. Here, now, I can “be.”

We are “human beings” after all, aren’t we?!…

I feel the pull to make to-do lists. I feel the addictions to business trying with all their might to drive me to action, but here, now, there is nothing that I “need” to do.

How completely I had defined myself by what I did before we left. The “doings” became my identity. Here, now that I have let go of that, I find myself searching for handles on which to hold. Who am I if I am not a doctor? Who am I if I do not have a home on land?

Everyone asks where we are from. It is a nauseating question. Everyone asks what we do. More nausea ensues. We are living, breathing, vibrant creatures here, now. Let’s play! Places are important, but states and countries are only lines drawn on maps by powerful men. They do not unite. They divide.

At night I fight the urge to do. If I am not doing, then what am I to do? I tell myself that it is okay to relax. It is okay to take a break. It is okay to have a vacation or to change from a state of doing to a state of being.

Why do we work so hard and have all of these conveniences if not to have more free time? Isn’t that what we all want? Don’t we all want more time to explore our inner selves, our relationships, our passions and interests? If we are surrounded and awash in noise, how can we hear the voice of God?

Here, now, we find everyday that we are being guided by forces at work behind the unfolding story of our lives. Call them “accidents” or “coincidences” or as Jung put it so eloquently, “synchronicities.”

I am learning not only to trust my intuition but to rely on it. Countless times I have felt the need to do a particular thing, like look over my shoulder only to see a fast oncoming boat that I had not noticed before. When I’ve gotten the sudden “out of the blue” thought to check the gas can, I have found it empty and changed to the second tank just in time to keep the engine from quitting. I used to call such things strange. Now I am beginning to relax into trusting these clear moments of guidance.

People ask us where we are going. We don’t know.

The feedback that we are getting from God reinforces our faith that we will be shown our way. The right door will open for us when we are ready for it. Until then, all we have to do is decide what to do in the moment. It is a beautiful way to live.

We are not encumbered by the morning drudgery of plugging into the capitalist system. For many it has been a blessing, but for many it drowns out the guidance of God.

Guidance is often spoken softly in your ear.

If you are surrounded by noise, you very well may miss it.

Blessings and well-wishes to you on this December evening from Wee Happy. Thanks for checking it.

Capt’n K & Lala.

A few days ago we passed through an area called “Hells Gate”. I felt at the time an impending sense of doom and dread, and the name felt perfectly appropriate. We were entering the Georgia section of the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), and we have been hearing stories for a while now of how bad the Georgia ICW is, and how at all costs we should avoid it. We were told of how shallow it is, how endlessly winding the course is, and how it is just an endless expanse of boring coastal marsh. I had it fixed in my head that we were NOT going to do this section of the ICW, and that no matter what we would find an ocean passage out to skip Georgia and just make it to Florida already!

The other factor contributing to my sense of gloom and doom has been the weather forecast. Gale force winds and sub-freezing windchills have been the norm for days now, and warmer weather is barely on the horizon. If there was ever a time to NOT go out on the ocean, this is it. There is just no good weather window for us to make even a short ocean passage right now. It looks as if we are stuck on the Georgia ICW.

So the gale force winds arrive and we brave through it, seeking a better anchorage. First our sail breaks. Not a major disaster, but it needs to be repaired before we can use it again. We are further doomed to motoring. Then, we ran aground onto a sand bar and spent most of the frighteningly windy night getting unstuck. (listen to the podcast for more details on that horrific experience).

Then, we anchored near an island that was recommended to us by the dispatch operator at SeaTow, the company that almost had to come haul us off the sandbar. In the morning when we awoke after our night from hell on the sandbar, I was telling K. that I needed some moral support from our community, from friends, from the outside world. I just felt so alone out here in this vast expanse of marshy nothingness. I prayed for some voice to come remind me we weren’t alone. I managed to get online for a brief moment to post a plea for connection on Facebook. (not much cell service out here, and our internet connection is dependent on being near a cell tower). Within five minutes of my “call to the world”, I heard an unusual sound outside and went to look to see what it was. A pelican had landed on our boat, and sat there, completely calm,looking at me! I have been in love with the pelicans since we first started seeing them in North Carolina. Every time I see them fly by, gliding smoothly inches above the water, or flying in great flocks in an ever changing V formation, I have marveled at their dignified beauty in flight. I LOVE these birds and had even declared them my new “totem animal”. Until now, all the pelicans I’ve seen have completely ignored our existence. They have not acknowledged us in any way or come even near our boat. But yet now, here was a pelican who was entirely unafraid of me and looked continuously straight at me. (as much as a pelican can look straight at you — as their long, long beaks cause them to look at a funny angle with their eyes.)

As majestic and noble as these birds look in flight, they look hilariously awkward and weird up close. I took the arrival of the pelican as a “sign”, and immediately felt a boost in my spirits. A few minutes later, a second pelican arrived, this one hanging out (and pooping) in our dinghy. We had new friends!! We were not alone!

Since the gale force winds were continuing for yet another day, and we were exhausted from our ordeal the night before, we decided to stay put in our snug, protected anchorage for the day and chill out. (it wasn’t hard to “chill” as the high temp only reached the 30’s.) We took our dinghy over to the large island we were anchored next to and explored. We found an empty, enchanted place that soothed and calmed us after our stress on the water. Areas of tall, stately pine trees towered overhead, dancing in the wind, along with various palms and tropical plants. These were interspersed with areas of sandy plains or “savannahs”, partially covered in sea grasses. We felt odd walking among the palms and along the beach in full arctic clothing, but we enjoyed it nonetheless. If it had been warmer this island would have been a gorgeous spot to set up camp for a few days. We found oysters and sea shells, and got to lay down below a lovely live oak tree in the sun. The island felt like a gift, and we appreciated it! After our stressful experience running our boat aground in a terrifying storm, we felt an increased sense of gratitude just being alive and together and safe.

If you look at a map of this area of Georgia, you see that there an endless number of rivers, big, small and very wee, that look like veins in the landscape. Or perhaps they look like the sensuously curvy branches of the live oak trees. If Minnesota is the land of 10,000 lakes, then this is the land of 10,000 rivers. I looked at this area on Google Earth and it is really stunning to see the number of curvy bodies of water that make their way in twisting curving paths to the sea. Art from Mother Earth. You can see for yourself by looking at the interactive map on the right hand column labeled “Wee Happy Voyage”, which shows our route down the coast. Click on “view Wee Happy in a larger map”, and then zoom WAY in on Georgia and see how beautiful it is. This interactive map shows each anchorage we have stayed at, and K. has been really diligent about logging our journey this way. Check it out! (or see photo above)

So here we are, doing the dreaded Georgia ICW. And even though it’s been freezing cold and stressful and slow, I have discovered that there is beauty everywhere, even here. I have to admit, this landscape is growing on me and maybe this is just where we need to be….

Savannah was the main city along the Eastern seaboard that we had both been looking forward to visiting. Even after how impressed we were with Charleston, we were told “wait ’till you see Savannah!”
(although I still want to move to Charleston!)

As we left our boat tied up to the city dock on the downtown waterfront, we were immediately greeted by an entire boulevard park lined entirely with large live oak trees. They were so beautiful they actually brought tears to my eyes.

It was worth it visiting Savannah JUST to see these trees. Live oaks, a variety of oak I was previously unfamiliar with, are some of the most gorgeous trees I’ve ever met. Words cannot convey, nor can a photo express, just how lovely and graceful they are. If you have experienced them, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, I recommend a visit to the South to become acquainted with them.

As we meandered around Savannah, we came upon a park every few blocks filled with more stately live oaks. Oglethorpe, the famed founder of Savannah, had the brilliant idea to design the city so that every small neighborhood looks inward towards a central park square, which takes up one square block. We were charmed by each and every park, as well as by the well preserved old mansions and gardens in the historical districts. Savannah is a lovely city indeed!

While we were in Savannah we got to meet a fellow weaver and sailor (she may be the only one besides me!), a gracious woman named Suzanne and her husband Doc. They keep their sailboat on Lake Champlain but spend the winters in Savannah, and we had tried to connect over the summer on Lake Champlain, but somehow never managed to meet. I found her through a weaving website called Weavolution. Suzanne invited us to her home to have dinner and take a bath. We were thrilled at that offer and spent a wonderful evening with them, enjoying being in a REAL house and eating yummy food! We shared sailing stories and had a lovely time. I got to see some of Suzanne’s weavings and talk about weaving with another fiber junkie! She has a great blog and website at http://suzyhok.blogspot.com/. Thanks to both of them for their sweet generosity!

We learned while docked on the Savannah River, that it is a major port for large shipping vessels, such as this one, passing our wee boat: