Chomped by the North Carolina Alligator

. . . HIGH WINDS, HIGH WAVES, SHALLOW DEPTHS    

From past posts, you know we believe in waiting for weather windows before traveling. Sometimes though our best plans go wrong. We left a quiet, calm Pungo River Friday morning, planning to travel 20 miles through a canal and then 20 miles up the Alligator River to the Alligator River Marina past the swing bridge. We checked the weather Web sites. All called for NW winds starting at 10-15 mph, building in the late afternoon to 20-25. Because we left early, we hoped to miss the 25-mile-an-hour winds, but had been in them often before and weren’t concerned.

The first half of the day was pleasant, light winds, mostly on our nose, keeping us from unfurling the sails. When we turned onto the Alligator River, the wind clocked around, too, staying on our nose. It was still a quiet trip with slightly higher winds and waves. Within 30 minutes, it began to build. Winds reached 20. Then they grew to 30. A front was visible from the NW that we expected to move through and then the wind to subside.

We didn't risk our cameras in Friday's high wind and
waves. These one to two-foot waves and troughs are
from an 11 mph wind on Sunday. Imagine what they were
 like with wind four times higher.

The Alligator River is shallow, some nine feet deep. When the wind builds even a little, waves there become steep and close together. In a larger blow, they are impressive in size and constant. Within 90 minutes from the time we turned onto the river, the winds were howling at a steady 40 mph (35 knots) and with waves of around five feet crashing on our bow and dodger. Our concern became the wave troughs that were about five feet deep -- too close to our four-and-a-half foot keel. 

The single front seemed to have spread all around us, without bringing rain, just more wind.

As we traveled on up the river, the winds hit 49 mph (43 knots) and the waves grew higher. We found we were only making two mph headway, which would put us in the marina late at night after it had closed.  At that point, we decided to turn Carina around to join a couple anchored where the river and canal met, 10 miles back. 

Were we scared? Greatly concerned. We wore our life jackets for the first time on the trip.

We Were Pooped

Retracing our path was almost as exciting as the trip out. Just as the wind and waves had been on our nose before, they were dead on our stern going back. And with the grayness all around us, it became harder to see the crab pot floats. We barely missed a couple of them. If we’d run over one, its line could have wrapped around our prop and stopped the engine. After the near misses, we kept a better lookout.

The waves would roll up against the back of the boat, floating the dinghy hanging from the lifts. At one point, we both looked at our feet and realized we were standing in three inches of water. We weren’t sinking. The water drained away. We weren’t in danger, but were “pooped.” That’s a sailing term for getting waves from the stern into the cockpit. Carina has a sugar scoop stern, very open and great for getting on and off. She was built as a comfortable coastal cruiser, rather than an ocean-going boat. From another Catalina owner, we knew that her sugar scoop can make her a wet boat in large following seas and quickly put the hatch boards in to keep the cabin dry. We were pooped several times on the return trip when waves swept into the cockpit.

Song of Pogo was also anchored with us Friday and
Saturday under a full moon.

The anchorage was slightly protected although the wind was still howling and the waves still choppy. We dropped the hook and were thankful for being secure for the night. For the rest of the evening, we listened to the Coast Guard handling VHF distress calls from boaters less fortunate than we were.

Over the next day at anchor, it occurred to us that even if we'd made it through the Alligator River on that first attempt, we couldn't have gotten to the marina. The bridge before the marina wouldn't have opened for us, and there was no secure anchorage nearby. NC bridges don't open in winds of 35 mph or more. 

Friday's "red skies at night" forecast
 better weather.

What would we have done differently? It would have helped to check the weather for updates around noon. But we had no cell bars for our smart phones or laptop to work. We did what sailors without electronics have done for years -- use judgment and experience to make a decision. In this case, we think it was the right one.