“The greater the difficulty the more glory in surmounting it. Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempests.” Epictetus
Our southern track took us down the coast of New England, our destination Charleston, SC. We hopped each night into harbors and anchored overnight until the last leg of the passage where we headed offshore for a three-day sail. Just as we headed out for our overnight, Dan, intently studying the weather information on his iPad, announced, “Looks like we have a hurricane heading for the East Coast!” He had been tracking the system as a tropical storm, but latest predictions had it intensifying and making landfall on our coastline.
Three days later we landed in Charleston Harbor, the storm 5 days out. Several forecast models had Florence directly impacting Charleston. Other models had it going farther north or whisking out to sea. At anchor in the harbor, we looked around at one boat completely sunk, just the mast protruding from the water and three sailboats abandoned in the trees along the shore – remnants of hurricane Matthew from last year. Not wanting to take any chances that our home would suffer the same fate, we had no choice but to prepare for the worst.
We stalled for two days, waiting to see if there was a change in the track. Three days out the predictions still varied. It was time to take action. Dan had been researching possible locations to keep our boat safe from the storm. The first job that had to be done was to take the sails, bimini, and awning off the deck and store them safely below. This task took several hours. We baked in the hot sun reflecting off the deck – suddenly aware of how much protection our canvass provided. That afternoon as we purged the deck of all equipment and added it to the growing chaos below, suddenly, our phones and tablets simultaneously began blaring an emergency broadcast beacon. We were quickly updated that South Carolina had declared a state of emergency. Mandatory evacuations had been given for many of the islands. All schools, universities and businesses would be closed. Florence was getting real.
Early the next morning we moved forward with our primary plan. The ICW leading south out of Charleston Harbor wound into some shallow, protected, safe areas that seemed as good a place as any to lay down our storm anchor and ride out the hurricane. As we were about to pull up anchor and make our way down-river, a friend intervened.
“Can’t go down the ICW,” he reported. “Mandatory evacuations have closed all the bridges. They won’t open for you.”
Our 63 foot mast required a bridge opening. Plan one was no longer an option. Sweat started to bead on my forehead, not just from the sun and humidity. My stomach turned; I looked to Dan for plan B.
“Let’s see if they will take us at the Charleston City Marina,” Dan responded with some hesitation. Being tied to a dock is not always ideal in a hurricane. Boats not properly secured can come loose and cause damage. Lines can break, docks can break, much can go wrong, but our options were limited at this point.
We took our dinghy to shore and headed to the dock office. We knocked on the door and a single women sat at the desk. The marina was a veritable ghost town already. She looked at us and shook her head as soon as we asked if there was any room for us to tie up at the dock. We had seen several spaces empty so we knew they had availability.
“Nope. Dockmaster said we are not taking anyone else at this point,” was her answer, no apparent concern in her voice.
Bridges closed. Marinas shut down. I called two more marinas in Charleston. No one even answered the phone. There is no worse feeling that having a hurricane barreling toward you and feeling like you can’t escape its path. We could stay in the Charleston Harbor, but looking around at all the boats not secured for the hurricane, it seemed likely they would break free with strong wind and a storm surge and become projectiles that would damage any boats anchored around them. The several destroyed boats abandoned in the harbor from the last hurricane were a strong sign that staying anchored there was not a good choice.
Last viable option was to motor about 14 miles up the Cooper River, a river just north of the main harbor. Up the Cooper were protected coves, soft marsh lands, and a good depth to anchor for a hurricane. With 2 days until detonation, we motored up river.
The day was calm and peaceful. We didn’t pass another boat, dolphins played and fed around us. It was eerily quiet along the shore, all ports and shipyards abandoned. It seemed most humans had already fled. The breeze was gentle and the sun intense. With no awning to protect us, we baked in the sun and heat. Five hours later, we rounded the bend located previously on our GPS and found our cove of safety. We had scouted it out the evening before on our brother’s power boat, using our hand held depth finder to locate the best spot to place our anchor. We also checked to make sure we had 400 ft. of swing room as we would be putting out 200 ft. of anchor chain. All checked out so our decision was solidified. It seemed as if we were the last boat on earth with not a single sign of boats or humans anywhere in sight.
As we swung into place and set to drop our anchor, a brief shower cooled us down. A rainbow appeared on the horizon and a small school of dolphins surfaced – my guardian angels letting me know, all was well. We set our anchor as planned, fed out 200 ft. of chain and secured our baby as best we could. Before we got into our dinghy, I pulled out our important documents, cameras, and packed the few possessions I didn’t want to let go should our boat not make it through the storm. Being that it was 5:00 and our traditional time for Captain’s Hour, we sat in our cockpit and toasted to our home. I couldn’t help but break down, as I though about all that has transpired this past year aboard our boat.
I love our home on the water. All we have in the whole world is invested in this ship, in this journey, and one storm could change all of that. I felt helpless, heartbroken, despondent, that I would be leaving her to fend for herself, a victim of whatever tempest passed this way.
Wiping away my tears, we boarded our dinghy and said our “farewell, be safe,” wishes. We would be staying with my brother in Charleston and would return as soon as the storm was over.
Lessons learned. Hurricanes are like a box of chocolate. You just don’t know what you’re going to get. Weather predictions are pretty much a crap shoot and the media does their best to scare the pants off you in order to get ratings. Unfortunately, you have to prepare for the worst. New Bern, NC took the brunt of the storm. 500 homes were lost as well as many marinas and boats. That could have been Charleston, but this time it wasn’t. The hurricane made landfall but our boat felt little wind, little rain, and no ill effects. We learned that even though we were prepared well in advance, other forces can necessitate change. You need to remain flexible and have back-up plans. We learned the pain of leaving your boat – not knowing the outcome of events and the helpless feeling that after all you’ve done your best, all you can do is pray.
We are ecstatic that our boat fared well. We departed soon after Florence departed to Tryon, NC where we met our entire family to watch the World Equestrian Games. Our daughter competed in the Pas De Deux division of equestrian vaulting. The Olympics of the horse world, we were honored and proud to be the parents of a world-class athlete. She placed 9th overall in the world and was the featured picture on the magazine representing the United States vaulters. Her smile, her joy, and the thrill of watching her compete washed away the terror and heartache of the prior week – sending hurricane Florence into a distant memory.
Through a storm’s chaos, we learn, we move on, and we are thankful to be able to continue our journey. We are currently back in Charleston, completing refits and preparing for our crossing to the British Virgin Islands the first week of November. Last November we attempted this crossing and it didn’t go very well. We learned a lot through experiencing that storm and feel better prepared and more confident for this crossing, solidifying the idea that, “ Skillful pilots gain their reputation from storms and tempests.” Let the adventures continue…. Wishing all our friends and family fair winds and following seas.
Alison and Dan
Equus