Destination:Camp LaJeune military firing range - I’d better take off my antler hat - we need to radio ahead so we don’t become decoys - the current is with us, so we're speeding along at 7.7 mph - we've got the autopilot on but when I suggested taking a cab and meeting the boat, my motion was not seconded -
hold on...POweR BoaT’S waKE -
I'm figuring we won’t be connected until Wrightsville Beach, the next day’s intended stop

Surreality

Anyway, I’m pretty surprised we have Internet - it’s not exactly Super Walmart territory. Maybe it’s me, but it's pretty surreal here...there are miles and miles of picturesque marshlands, no homes, stores, roads, people, and this 3/4 circle anchorage in the midst of it all with 10 sailboats and 1 battleship. We’re not permitted to emerge onto land - it's a marine base - the serene silence is disrupted only with occasional cannonball-like background sounds, and the very still scene is periodically broken with low flying military helicopters.

The trek here was different than our previous trips - one side was modern beach homes on stilts with palm trees, double decker docks, and pelicans; the other side featured sand dunes and beach grass, interspersed with infrequent traveling military tanks. We received a wake up call when we realized that the very nearby seagulls were sitting on sandbars.

After 8 hours together in the cockpit (poop deck a more appropriate term for Elias), I risked the boys’ potential sea sickness and encouraged them to play below - a change of scene for them and moment of relative sanity for us. Checking on the ominous quiet, I discovered that they had roped together all rope-able items, including table legs, ladders, and the stuffed dolphin (really a whale - but don’t tell Elias), for which they constructed a pulley system to save him from the imagined below-deck water.  I have to say, a benefit gained from this expedition is the boys’ increased ability to entertain themselves. They can play (sometimes peacefully) for hours in the 6 x 4 foot playroom (our bedroom) or a vacant lot, as long as it has some decent sticks. Much to Jonas’ dismay, he left his favorite rope behind in their New Bern “clubhouse” (bushes alongside the marina parking lot), and couldn’t relate to our prioritizing the a.m. drawbridge opening, to heading back for the rope.

Although the marine base has obvious appeal, we'll be setting sail again tomorrow.

Tuesday, November 2nd

On yet another note, which pretty much states the obvious, I continue to marvel at how each new port is so different from the previous one. Jonas and Elias grieve as we leave each town - having quickly adapted and grown fond of it (for its boat trailer, dirt pile, rock stash...) - but then, grieve again when we leave that town...I wonder whether our return trip will lose something with the diminished anticipation on my part, or have the appeal of returning to the familiar at each stop. (Why does this remind me of Saturday Night Live's “Deep Thoughts” spoof?)

So, they refer to Wrightsville Beach as the Atlantic City of the South - “the wonder of it all!” - in spite of that, this resort town is quite nice off season, with its beautiful beach - and my favorite beach weather: cool and cloudy - Jonas built a sand office (modeled after his mother’s cockpit office), although Elias was a bit distraught when he couldn't find his toy motor boat - “Where did you play with it last?” I inquired - “I buried it,” he replied - “Where?” I strategically asked - “In the sand,” he pragmatically responded. Anyway, the 35 knot breeze is howling outside (we're anchored) and according to the forecast, tomorrow's low will be 38 degrees - we need to progress southerly, but it's too cold (oxymoronically speaking)