Today we decided to make a run for Jekyll Island -- a relatively long distance away (45 miles), it would be a good place to stop and take a day off from moving south. It is a relatively small Island, state owned and relatively undeveloped save for a historical district and, it has a fascinating history -- in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, it was used as a "playground" for the very wealthy -- more on that later.
The journey would take us down rivers behind Sapelo and St. Simon's Islands and across three different sounds -- eventually we would have to enter Jekyll Creek, an infamous "trouble spot" on the Intercoastal -- about halfway up the creek there is a an area celled the "mud flats" that has the worst shoaling in the whole Intercoastal -- if you wander out of the very narrow, not very well marked channel, you are in for thin water at best, more likely a grounding. Of course, our destination, either a marina or an anchorage, was on the other side of the mud flats -- we would have to cross them before we were done for the day.
Scenes along the way:
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| Avian hangout |
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| Fishing in front of a McMansion |
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| Pelican saying: Stop gawking & move on, you are scaring away the fish! |
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| New Brunswick, a large paper-mill town, is close to Jekyll Island |
We were unsure of how much the current might hinder or help us, so we had identified a couple of potential bail-out points along the way, but the mood of the crew was clear -- we both wanted to go for it and get there. As it turned out, the trip was pleasant with the SE breeze blowing all the way -- the current definitely was helping us overall, and as the day wore on, it became pretty clear that we would be able to make it as long as we didn't get stuck at the mud flats. It also became clear that we would be getting to the mud flats soon after high tide -- not optimum but not bad since the water would be close to the "best it could be". Of course, if we ran aground on the falling tide and couldn't get off quickly, we would be stuck for probably close to a full 12 hour tide cycle, not a happy thought.
As we approached Jekyll Creek, we called the marina to see whether there was room for us -- being the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, the answer was a polite but firm "No" -- they were packed to the gills. No problem, we knew there was a nice anchorage just beyond the Marina -- we could drop a hook there and dinghy into the Island (and even use the marina's showers, laundry, pool, etc.) --we had it covered.
The entrance to the creek is somewhat complicated (and dangerous with an "underwater jetty" lurking just beyond the starboard marks -- you don't want to wander out of the channel here). I was at the helm and feeling pretty good once we got inside the creek -- the water was relatively deep (12') and the route well marked -- we just had to get through the pesky mud flats.
We were running along quite nicely, right where we should have been according to the marks, when bang, the depth went from 12' to 6' in the blink of an eye -- I immediately slowed the boat down and started to "weave" back and forth to seek deeper water, a stratagem that has worked many times before -- we had clearly wandered out of the channel and I was hoping to rediscover it.
Alas, that was not to be -- no amount of weaving seemed to find deeper water -- rather the depths kept getting shallower and shallower -- we were making forward progress, slow for sure but definitely forward, yet I was seeing readings on the depth meter below 3 feet -- readings that anywhere else would indicate that we were aground -- yet we slowly moved forward. The only possible explanation was that we were plowing our way through the mud flats -- the bottom was so loose and soft that the keel could act as a plow and dig its own furrow. This was nerve wracking but turning back just didn't seem like the right thing to do -- so we persevered forward -- and got lucky, for after about a hundred yards of this slow plowing, the depths started to creep up again -- we had made through!
The depths were soon back to 12' and shortly thereafter, we passed the Marina we had called (boats were in every conceivable spot on their docks). The anchorage was a bit further on and was wide and roomy -- we dropped the hook.
Oh, and did I mention the fact that the guidebooks warned us that there was a potentially noisy water park next to the anchorage? Well, there was although luckily, the wind was blowing the noise away from us, so it wasn't very objectionable at all.
By this time, we were almost halfway to low and the current was running pretty strongly through the anchorage -- we rigged our safety flotation lines before venturing out for a swim -- this was the strongest current we had experienced all trip -- we didn't stay in long, but enjoyed being cooled down by the clean green water.
Sundowners and dinner followed shortly thereafter, with an evening light show from thunderstorms to our west -- we could see the lightening and occasionally hear the rumble of thunder, but happily these storms had formed inland and were heading west, so their only impact on us was to be our evening's entertainment.
As we approached Jekyll Creek, we called the marina to see whether there was room for us -- being the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, the answer was a polite but firm "No" -- they were packed to the gills. No problem, we knew there was a nice anchorage just beyond the Marina -- we could drop a hook there and dinghy into the Island (and even use the marina's showers, laundry, pool, etc.) --we had it covered.
The entrance to the creek is somewhat complicated (and dangerous with an "underwater jetty" lurking just beyond the starboard marks -- you don't want to wander out of the channel here). I was at the helm and feeling pretty good once we got inside the creek -- the water was relatively deep (12') and the route well marked -- we just had to get through the pesky mud flats.
We were running along quite nicely, right where we should have been according to the marks, when bang, the depth went from 12' to 6' in the blink of an eye -- I immediately slowed the boat down and started to "weave" back and forth to seek deeper water, a stratagem that has worked many times before -- we had clearly wandered out of the channel and I was hoping to rediscover it.
Alas, that was not to be -- no amount of weaving seemed to find deeper water -- rather the depths kept getting shallower and shallower -- we were making forward progress, slow for sure but definitely forward, yet I was seeing readings on the depth meter below 3 feet -- readings that anywhere else would indicate that we were aground -- yet we slowly moved forward. The only possible explanation was that we were plowing our way through the mud flats -- the bottom was so loose and soft that the keel could act as a plow and dig its own furrow. This was nerve wracking but turning back just didn't seem like the right thing to do -- so we persevered forward -- and got lucky, for after about a hundred yards of this slow plowing, the depths started to creep up again -- we had made through!
The depths were soon back to 12' and shortly thereafter, we passed the Marina we had called (boats were in every conceivable spot on their docks). The anchorage was a bit further on and was wide and roomy -- we dropped the hook.
Oh, and did I mention the fact that the guidebooks warned us that there was a potentially noisy water park next to the anchorage? Well, there was although luckily, the wind was blowing the noise away from us, so it wasn't very objectionable at all.
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| Water park in our backyard |
Sundowners and dinner followed shortly thereafter, with an evening light show from thunderstorms to our west -- we could see the lightening and occasionally hear the rumble of thunder, but happily these storms had formed inland and were heading west, so their only impact on us was to be our evening's entertainment.
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| Light show in the distance ! |
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| Even bigger light show ! |
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