Visibility is very poor this morning and we are sitting in the cockpit listening to the weather reports and hoping the fog will lift.
The Cruising Club is departing but most of them have radar and don't rely so heavily on visual markers. But wait, the two cruisers that had left are now returning, with the news that it is just too thick out there, even for them.
I make use of the time with a bike ride into the town of St. Simons.
It has cute shops, a picturesque vantage point, and an historic lighthouse. 
By eleven o'clock the fog has lifted and we are on our way out of the harbour. In the bay we join a large cluster of vessels all heading for Jeckle Creek. Jeckle Creek is known to us by reputation. The night before, the Cruising club had spoken of its narrowness and shallow waters. As we leave the bay and make the turn to enter the river, we all hold our collective breath, uncomfortable in the knowledge that low tide is on its way. For the next half hour the silence on the boat is deafening: all eyes are focused forward and I am certain we are all concentrating on thinking LIGHT & AIRY thoughts, in order to buoy up Argo. Because we are part of a convoy going through the Creek, it could create quite a domino effect if some poor unfortunate DID go aground. Once again, Chas steered faultlessly and Argo skidded along in the wake of the leading sailboat.
We reached our anchorage shortly before sundown and were soon joined by another sailboat, Lady Simcoe. The captain had had his boat trucked down to Savanna and is single-handing for a few days until his wife and brother come to join him.
One of the highlights of this trip has been the siting of many dolphins, and tonight we are even joined by a group of them right at our anchorage. They add to the wealth of sounds and impressions that Nature provides for our after dinner entertainment.
The Cruising Club is departing but most of them have radar and don't rely so heavily on visual markers. But wait, the two cruisers that had left are now returning, with the news that it is just too thick out there, even for them.
I make use of the time with a bike ride into the town of St. Simons.
It has cute shops, a picturesque vantage point, and an historic lighthouse. 
By eleven o'clock the fog has lifted and we are on our way out of the harbour. In the bay we join a large cluster of vessels all heading for Jeckle Creek. Jeckle Creek is known to us by reputation. The night before, the Cruising club had spoken of its narrowness and shallow waters. As we leave the bay and make the turn to enter the river, we all hold our collective breath, uncomfortable in the knowledge that low tide is on its way. For the next half hour the silence on the boat is deafening: all eyes are focused forward and I am certain we are all concentrating on thinking LIGHT & AIRY thoughts, in order to buoy up Argo. Because we are part of a convoy going through the Creek, it could create quite a domino effect if some poor unfortunate DID go aground. Once again, Chas steered faultlessly and Argo skidded along in the wake of the leading sailboat.
We reached our anchorage shortly before sundown and were soon joined by another sailboat, Lady Simcoe. The captain had had his boat trucked down to Savanna and is single-handing for a few days until his wife and brother come to join him.
One of the highlights of this trip has been the siting of many dolphins, and tonight we are even joined by a group of them right at our anchorage. They add to the wealth of sounds and impressions that Nature provides for our after dinner entertainment.
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