Alligator River and Albemarle Sound

Heading inland, the water gets less saline and also darker. By the time we entered the Pungo-Alligator River canal, it was like sailing through chocolate fondue. The Alligator River was devoid of reptiles, and in fact had very little wildlife at all in the dead straight 20nm cut. However, the wildlife made a comeback at dusk as we were anchored on the south side of the Albemarle Sound. The sun finally made it out and we were joined by tens of thousands of newly hatched mosquitos. Fortunately, they didn’t seem the biting kind, but by dawn they were covering every exposed surface of the boat.

Bugs on a boat

Dawn also heralded another increase in wind – this time 30kts from the NNE. We hadn’t been able to get a forecast since leaving Beaufort and so this caught us out, the wrong side of the 15nm sound. Initially, we had to wriggle through a tiny channel to get into open water and the waves, wind and current were making progress hazardous. We lost steerage several times and were barely making 1.5kts. Finally we were able to bear away and set the sails for a pounding time hard on the wind.

Like Pamlico, this sound is famous for its trout, and the water reeked of it. The wind and waves were hideous and it took us 6 hours to make our way the 17nm upwind to the entrance of the North River. By this time the boat was awash in midge and trout soup. Our adventures weren’t over. When we had stopped the previous night, the engine had been making an odd noise. James diagnosed the gearbox connection and twiddled with it and it had seemed OK. Now we were in a narrow channel that had turned into wind and we really needed the engine again, it wouldn’t take a gear. I ran forward to drop the anchor before we ran aground but the retaining bolt had also bent in the hammering we’d taken sailing into wind and I couldn’t release it. By the time we got the anchor away, we had blown out of the channel and were also aground on the downwind side in 25kts of wind.

Quiet inland waterway sailing - not

James dismantled the gearbox whilst I calmed the children. Eventually, he patched it up enough to limp the extra 5nm to the next marina at Coinjock and we managed to sail off the ooze by backing the genoa and turning the bow back down the way we’d come.

So now, we’re moored up in a wonderfully secluded spot on the canal, right next to the bar and showers. Elizabeth has found a dog to play with, we’ve filled up the diesel and pumped out the holding tank, and James is removing the gearbox so an engineer can try to fix it tomorrow.