Womble fans,
To start, a couple of apologies; first, for the tardiness of this first missive - we have actually been very busy - this isn't a pleasure cruise, you know... Additionally, I am reduced to using this excremental Mac Powerbook, about which I will rant no further than to say the last time I was an hour into this and decided a "Save" might be in order, it promptly crashed instead of saving my literary pearls (in this instance of the simile, view the swine before which aforementioned pearls were being cast as the Mac, not your good selves, of course). Second, to those individuals who have sent us e-mail and to whom we have not yet replied - thank you very much; we will be in touch...

To the meat : The good ship Womble set off from Quincy on a calm, misty Saturday morning, bound for Cape Cod and the southern seas, crewed by Gregg, Neil and Tony (Sawyer Senior); the ladies (Claire and Karen) were left to their own devices and the tender mercies of Amtrak. A sunny motor down the coast and through the Cape Cod Canal lulled us, but the real experience soon started with an entangled prop as we hoisted sail in Buzzards Bay. Soon disentangled, a somewhat soggier crew commenced beating out of the Bay into a southwesterly breeze; the wind continued to oppose us until the advent of some pretty enlivening (at the time, perhaps perceived as potentially endeadening) thunder storms, causing the wind to swirl around, gust and die, totally frustrating our progress. Eventually the thunderstorms proper arrived, peppering the sky and sea with lightning, soaking the boat (well, it washed the salt off), and putting on a very dramatic display. Memories of the night are somewhat blurred - some highlights : the autopilot breaking and jamming the wheel, causing us to go Ôround in circles; the boom parting company from the traveller as the mainsheet tackle shackle failed; the storm becoming so intense that we disconnected all electrics and electronics (radar, GPS, nav. systems) and sailed blind by dead reckoning for an hour; the helmsman inadvertently attempting to anchor Womble at seven knots in a 20 knot wind; the radar image showing us surrounded by heavy storms threatening 30-knot gusts with full mainsail and jib (an interesting exercise in rapid reefing techniques followed); and Neil the lone helmsman, battered by wind and rain, demonically lit by lightning bolts, and firmly gripping the (metal, in a very electrically conductive way) wheel while the rest of the crew sheltered under the dodger or pretended to sleep below.

After an exhausting night, Block Island was only a few miles astern when we decided that another night beating into the freshening southwesterly and building seas, with the ominous threat of more thunderstorms, called for discretion, and we retired to Block Island - well, I had always meant to visit. A day and night rest had us wonderfully refreshed, and we set off for a relatively uneventful day-and-a-half sail to Cape May in New Jersey; we anchored there late on Tuesday night, and spent Wednesday night in a marina, surrounded by typical sports fishing boats. An early start on Thursday set us up to take advantage of the northwest wind, and we screamed down the coast to the Chesapeake, making the run to Cape Henry in 22 hours - an average speed of 7.5 knots in a straight line (folks - that's fast for a 33' sailboat); for most of the night we were broad reaching with the apparent wind at 20- 25 knots under as much sail as she would take - or perhaps just a little more, as it later became apparent that we had broken three sail runners that attach the mainsail to the mast; this was a lot faster than I had planned for, and we arrived in Norfolk a day early, disrupting the ladies sightseeing plans. Still, the couples were glad to be reunited, and we allowed ourselves the luxury of a couple of nights in a Holiday Inn while we tidied up the boat, carried out repairs and washed everything down. Farewells were said to the delivery crew on Sunday, and the Intracoastal Waterway trip started on Wednesday...

Places stayed (in chronological order) :

Block Island, Cape May NJ, Portsmouth VA, DIsmal Swamp/North Carolina Welcome Center, Elizabeth City NC, Manteo (Roanoke Island) NC, Old House Channel (anchored), Ocracoke NC, New Bern NC, Cape Lookout/Lookout Bight (anchored), Morehead City NC, Mile Hammock (anchored), Masonboro NC, Long Island NC, Waccamaw River (anchored) in South Carolina, McLellanville SC, Charleston SC...

We have not been very good at sticking to the Intracoastal Waterway, and in N orth Carolina we zig-zagged across it rather than following it, but the ZŐs were definitely worthwhile. New Bern was interesting, the Outer Banks were lovely, and Ocracoke would turn most people into beach bums - I crossed the Ocracoke Inlet by dinghy and explored deserted Portsmouth village, spent a pleasant evening clam-raking (successfully - 18 clams in less than an hour, but that doesnŐt count the time to open them), and swam in the Atlantic in 70-degree water temperatures. In Long Beach, we sat through a cold snap, and the water was at least 20 degress warmer than the morning air; sunrise was beautiful, with wisps of mist rising from the sea, ocean breakers sussurating on the beach, and dolphins taking an early-morning constitutional in the roseate light. I dipped my feet in the warm water, so they froze on the way back to the boat - Claire was delighted when I climbed back into the warmth of the v- berth.

In the dinghy, we have explored beatiful Waccamaw River and its creeks, rowing through trees to sit waiting in vain for a glimpse of wildife ("Oh, it's there - you just didn't see it" as the locals explain helpfully), we ran aground in six inches of water in the meanderingly beautiful Lockwoods Folly River, and nosed around waterside homes on Roanoke Island.

Charleston is a lovely city (well, the historic district), and we have spent nearly a week here, fitting in a medical check up for Claire and The Lump - all is well, and Claire is officially a picture of blooming motherhood - less of the blooming, as she has only gained three pounds to date (eighteen weeks, I believe); the midwife wanted to take a picture of her as an example of how good pregnancy can be for you, but I think it has as much to do with 4 weeks unemployment benefit on Womble.

Items lost to date : A screwdriver, two buckets, a mat, three hats, several tempers, some keel paint, barbecue bits, no breakfasts or other consumed food (other than through normal processes), scrubbing brush (retrieved), hose (retrieved), dinghy towing line (mangled), our rights to the hospitality of Elizabeth City when Gregg was accused of hogging the cheese dip...

Things (of note) seen to date :

A sharptail mola (sunfish) off Scituate; a shark off Atlantic City, NJ (doubtless several may be seen on land, also); a wren and a tiny warbler (officially, a Confusing Warbler) that nested in our ropes for a few hours miles out to sea; a plague of flies off Ocean City, MD; a sinking bucket (see above); the longest pier in North Carolina, and its colourful fishing denizens; palm trees; numerous pelicans, herons, egrets, cormorants, crows, grackels, skimmers,scooters, mourning doves, the ubiquitous Confusing Warbler and the close relative the Confusing Sandpiper/Plover/Shorebird; ospreys; turkey vultures (please note - not ŇbuzzardsÓ); red-tailed hawks; wild goats; wild horse droppings (sorry - the best we could do); more dolphins than the number at which you could feasibly shake a long thin wooden object; marines on midnight swimming training; terrapins/turtles; sea otter; mosquitoes and midges (but not no-see-ums of course); vicious dogs; rednecks; hospitality and openness; a record-breaking king mackerel catch (50 lb. - the steaks were delicious); very big mosquitoes (kinda like cockroaches, but donŐt tell Claire that); no floating logs (but lots of alligators and plenty of clogodiles); the Customs men at work; congenital idiots allowed to drive 500-horsepower 50-foot motor boats; a decapitated giraffe; beautiful sunsets and sunrises; another slice of life in the U.S. of A.

I hope to keep these e-mails more up-to-date in the future, so the narrative will be less disjointed, but I really must wind up now so that we can leave Charleston tomorrow, heading for St. Helena Island, Beaufort and then Savannah. Our best regards to everyone - have fun, and do something stupid.

Gregg, Claire and Lump