I almost missed a fine day for a sail out to the Northeast Point of Bull Island on a day off from work. Over the weekend, another great adventure in plumbing had turned nightmarish. Thankfully, help came before I anticipated, and with hot water running again in the Raynor household I was free to set sail on that Monday morning, October 18. Winds were forecast for southwest at 5-10 knots in the AM, and picking up in the PM; low tide would be at 11:08 AM. On the sail out the winds were actually from the west northwest allowing Kingfisher to run out Andersonville Creek to Bulls Bay. It was an exceptionally easy sail, and with my thoughts here and there I was brought back by the flight of a bird over the creek heading toward the mainland; the flight pattern and colors were clear identifiers of this eagle, the first I had seen this fall. From underwater heading in the same direction was a pair of dolphins, one of which created a surface disturbance with a small wave that bounced Kingfisher. They turned and followed briefly before continuing their course toward the mainland. A pelican duo then followed, and the apocalyptic images of the oiled pelicans in the Gulf floated in my mind and reminded me to not take these birds for granted.
Coming out into the bay, a flotilla of 20 shrimp baiters worked the waters, but no poles were set. When I asked a man accompanied by his young son about this absence, he said “No need for poles”. We quickly left them behind, running across the bay toward the Northeast Point. Making it out to the island in less than an hour, I pulled Kingfisher halfway up toward the high tide line, and prepared a sand anchor, a trick I learned from an Outward Bound instructor when I was shopping for a new tent. I found a stump that I could drag into place, and used my paddle to dig a three-pronged trench to match the stump, shaped like an old ship’s anchor. With Kingfisher secure, I began my walk along the shore – destination the Boneyard.
Round the point, the ocean was very calm, with little swell breaking on the shore, and the west wind blowing offshore and smoothing the waters. Beyond, the first signs of a tidal creek draining the marsh between the beach and dike of Jacks Creek ran parallel to the water’s edge for a stretch before the creek made a straight run from marsh to ocean.
Sections of old marsh appeared ahead, with old oysters and mussels exposed, and the sediments providing fertile ground for invertebrates and feeding shorebirds.
Prior to the next tidal creek, the break in the dike, viewed a year ago as a small new running tidal creek, was dry, but the opening had widened considerably. The ocean had pushed a large wedge of sand into this breach in the old dike, reaching almost to the newest dike.
Describing this change later in the week to Sarah and Michael Book, who both saw this feature a year ago, Michael asked me why this particular area was under such onslaught. I only partially answered the question. This whole section of the Bull Island shore, this facet facing to the east, is all eroding rapidly, all the way to the Boneyard and beyond, and significantly at this critical point where the Jacks Creek dike protrudes farthest to the east. It seems inevitable that the Jacks Creek dike will be breached as it was in Hurricane Hugo, but perhaps permanently unless Herculean efforts are taken.
Prior to the second tidal creek, a rippled section of sand/sediment mix with old Spartina jutting up provided a large catchment for objects, particularly shells.
A chunk of brick was most likely part of the Bull Island lighthouse, the remains of the foundation now residing offshore. Another manmade object also appeared in this section – a Native American potshard, a not uncommon object found along this shoreline. (Please be reminded that USFWS regulations prohibit the removal of any antiquities found in the refuge.)
I located a narrow place along the tidal creek to jump across and keep my sandals dry. (Photo from dike above looking east).
I proceeded along the final section with old marsh and tree hulks approaching the Boneyard. From this perspective, the main section of maritime forest marched down the shore to meet the ocean, leaving the remnants of trees in the surf and littering the beach, some standing and others capsized.
An osprey flew by heading along the beach to the north. At the Boneyard, I stopped, swam in the cool ocean, and sat on a bleached log for lunch and a serene break.
The Boneyard appeared significantly different than the previous week at the Rudy Mancke tour. Twenty-five yards of sandy beach and tree hulks existed where on that April 10 morning the high tide covered all the sand. As I was to learn, that spring tide pooling up in the high marsh generated the prime conditions for an excellent hatch of salt marsh mosquitoes. I had decided earlier to loop back on the Jacks Creek dike, and the path beckoned from the Boneyard.
Mosquitoes were soon accompanying me along the way, and my garb (hat, t-shirt, shorts, sandals) presented them the skin exposure they craved. Swatches of goldenrod along the dike were covered with various butterflies, most brightly with Gulf Fritillaries.
The far side of Jacks Creek was strikingly colored with a less desired fall foliage, the Chinese tallow tree, still with a strong hold on the island.
I did not tarry along the dike, with the mosquitoes prompting me to pull my floppy hat around my ears, but managed to see a few alligators in the impoundment. I had the opportunity to escape to the beach on the cut-off end of the old dike, but stayed my course. At the northern end of the impoundment, a flock of tree swallows populated the sky, wheeling and turning, and their presence continued all the way to the bay. Preparing to enter the maritime forest for the last section of the walk before the beach, I picked up the pace to a jog to outrun the mosquitoes on the dike and those waiting in the forest. In the late nineteenth century, this forest road would have led to the lighthouse in the dunes along the shore, lighting this spot for mariners.
The mosquito-motivated pace brought me from the Boneyard to Kingfisher in less than an hour. A boat-length remained between the stern and the flooding tide. The anticipated southwest breeze promised a close reach back across the bay. The weather report from the morning also was correct in predicting the first high altitude clouds ranging toward the mainland and contrasting with the blue sky. The steady wind and flooding tide pulled us along across the bay and into Andersonville Creek. The completion of the sail without the need for a tack was in jeopardy with a shifting wind in the creek, heading us off toward the creek bank, and farther ahead toward a prominent oyster rock, but each time a serendipitous lifting kept the port tack course intact right into the Intracoastal Waterway. Two snowbirds motored past heading south, and here the light changed with a partial occluding of the sun by one of those clouds. The sail from the point to the dock matched the outbound voyage of less than an hour.
