Muddy Rudder Redux

Lying aground at a 120 degree angle made it difficult to move around the boat as we waited for the tide to float us once again. The end of a near perfect day of cruising found us hard aground in a cloying mud within feet of the banks of the Calabash Creek. We can't say we weren't warned. Skipper Bob's guide to ICW anchorages clearly identifies this area as a good anchorage but plagued by shoaling. Nevertheless, it was a convenient stopping point and under other circumstances would have been easy. The windless day had become gusty just as we turned into the creek, the west wind giving us a lee shore and the tide had just started to ebb. With Pat at the helm and I at the bow ready to drop anchor, we found plenty of water as we circled the anchorage. Still with the wind gusting to over 20 knots, the tide going out, I said to myself (to quote Indiana Jones), "I've gotta bad feeling about this." As we approached the targeted position to drop anchor, I shouted, "How much water?" "6' to 7'," Pat shouted back. Six feet under the keel gave us plenty of margin. So, ignoring my inner warnings, I dropped the anchor and let out about 30 feet of chain, then 60, then stopped to see if we were holding. When I turned to look back toward the stern and shore, I was dismayed (to put it mildly) to see how close we were. "How much water?" "Still showing 6," Pat answered. "That doesn't seem possible. Look how close we are to shore!* This is not good, bring the boat forward and let's get out of here." I turned back to begin raising the anchor. "Come forward," I shouted. Nothing. "Why aren't you coming forward!" "I'm trying." "Give it everything you've got!," I shouted back. No good. "Darn, darn, darn it!" I said to myself (or something very much like that) as that sinking feeling of doubt turned to a dead certainty. We were aground. With little room between us and the creek bank, the wind had blown us into shallow water. As I raised the anchor, it probably skudded along the bottom, allowing us to drift toward shore. I took the helm and began trying to break us free but it was clear we were not going to get off. The tidal range here is 3-4 feet and the creek was emptying fast. There was a small chance that we could get pulled off, so I called BoatUS Sea Tow as I lowered the dinghy to set a kedge anchor (to keep us from being pushed further ashore and to, maybe, wench us off). Sea Tow responded immediately and said he would be on site within 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, David, anchored safely in his smug little trimaran, Faith, dinghied over to offer advice. He and his wife had been anchored in the creek for about 2 months, he said. "You're not the first to get in trouble here," he offered kindly. "We're still 2 hours from low water, but the bottom's soft, so you should be okay."

Sea Tow soon arrived and we rigged a harness to the bow of Live Now and made a vigorous but unsuccessful attempt to get us into deeper water. No go. It was pretty obvious that we were stuck. David stayed on the scene throughout and with his local knowledge, we set two anchors, bow and stern, to enable us to wench ourselves off when the tide returned, an event we had every reason to believe would occur. So there we sat. The water continued to flow out, we continued to heal over. I shut off the seacocks so water couldn't siphon into the boat and we stayed below out of the cold to wait. High tide would be around 1:30 am.

While uncomfortable, being at such an angle, we were in no danger and the boat was not at risk. Nevertheless, it was a challenge to just move around. Pat fixed a nice spagetti dinner and we waited. Knowing it was going to be a long night, I napped off and on while Pat kept watch until the tide began to turn, around 7:00 pm. As the water flowed in around the boat, I periodically took up the slack on the anchor lines to avoid us being pushed further ashore. Finally, we started to lift. The angle of heel lessened dramatically and by 12:30 am we were afloat once again! We started the engine, pulled ourselves forward on the anchor line into deeper water and waited for dawn.

By 7:00 am, we were back in the waterway, bidding less than a fond farewell to Calabash Creek. We owe a debt of thanks to Sea Tow and especially to David. David is an ordained minister who lives aboard his 40' trimaran. This cruising preacher has delivered medical supplies, bibles, sermons and counseling throughout the Caribbean islands for over 16 years. He was very helpful but nothing short of a miracle would have got us afloat before the flood tide. Maybe the ever reliable tide is miracle enough.

Although a little sleep deprived, we enjoyed the rest of the day, clearing through the Sunset Beach Pontoon Swing Bridge, passing the backside of Myrtle Beach and marveling at the dense development along the shore. We passed this way in 2001 and we found the change in the intervening years disconcerting. Crowded "lot filling" mansions, condos, golf courses and high-class marinas now create a seemingly endless man-made corridor. Oddly enough, we saw our first bald eagle on this stretch.

These palisades of bourgeois pleasure eventually gave way to long stretches of pristine cypress swamp, however, as the ICW continues in deep water down the Waccamaw River to Georgetown, our next stop.

*Note: Our depth sounder will give the "last" depth read if it can't get a real time reading. Apparently we were already touching when Pat thought it was saying we had 6' of water under the keel.