Earlier in the day, a boat pulled alongside and we were boarded! Pirates? No, police. Yikes! Do we look like smugglers? Did we fail to use our turn signal? Just a routine inspection, ma'am, and no, you can't take our picture while we're on your boat. Documents in order. Call in your names and passport numbers on the VHF radio. Any illegal aliens, terrrorists, or Cuban cigars in the hold?
After that, we need a stiff one. Initiated Echo II into the revered Association of Marine Happy Hour Hosts, sharing wine and rum cocktails with good friends Cindy and Dave.
Celebrating staying out of jail.
Touring the town, sunning on the patio of Vickery's Restaurant, watching the fishing boats in Shem Creek unload shrimp and crabs.
The Battery is the historic waterfront of Charleston.
Oyster roast on Isle of Palms. Buckets of oysters, all you can eat. I feasted on roasted jalapeno peppers with cheese, and made s'mores around the campfire.
After four weeks on the water, I luxuriated in a hot bath and plush king-size bed at Cindy and Dave's beautifully furnished home. Pecan pancakes in the morning. Ooooooh. I could get spoiled!
Back at the boat, the sun fled, leaving drizzle, humidity, damp blankets, and chilly atmosphere. Big change. Oh, well. Engine on. Head for Elliott Cut--a narrow channel leaving the city with swift adverse currents, known to sweep boats right back into Charleston Harbor. Anxious to get to the Bahamas, we plowed through the Cut at 1 knot, Pope at the wheel, basking in the memories of our 5-star vacation in Charleston.