Summer is for cruising

CAPE LOOKOUT -- The wind was light out of the west as Sylvia dipped her bow deep into the oncoming swells meeting the last of an ebbing tide. It's another world out there where King Neptune reigns, blue-green water with large patches of sargassum weeds drifting by.

Off our port side, white sand beaches topped with green clusters of beach grasses marked the edges of his domain. To our starboard, endless restless waters disappeared beyond the horizon. Sylvia, bobbing along in her bluewater element, purred contentedly.

Gini Mays was dragging a Cuban hand line with a silver Clarkspoon when a huge Spanish mackerel hit. Fresh fish for supper was assured when she wrestled the fish aboard. Conni Swanson, hanging over the rail, supervised.

It's but a short run -- about seven miles -- offshore of Shackleford inlet to the entrance buoy that marks the anchorage behind the hook of the cape. The hook of the cape has, for hundreds of years, been a refuge for boats of all sizes, a base for whalers of old.

By swinging on the stern anchor in about four feet of water, we put the cabin canopy in the shade, open to the salt breeze, warm and damp. After an evening swim, the mermaids grilled fresh Spanish.

Sundown and then fading powder-gray skies mirrored from the silvered blue waters. The darkness was eased by the soft golden glow of Sylvia's old-fashioned oil lamps. To the east, the regular brilliant light of the Cape Lookout lighthouse flashed, and far offshore, lightning flickered along a distant line of clouds.

Leaning back, we watched the procession across the heavens. The night was warm and damp, with enough cooling sea breeze to make a blanket comforting. Sometime during the early morning, I became vaguely aware of the increasing sounds of waves slapping and an uneasy roll, then, the scraping of lines as Roger Mays shifted the bow anchor line to a stern cleat. The roll and slapping ceased as Sylvia's round stern swung around to face into the sea.

Through the forward hatch, the stars winked. Dawn burst with a soft pearly pink light followed by a red ball lifting out of the east.

Roger and Gini dove overboard to take a few laps around the boat. It's a pleasure to watch a true merman and mermaid at play. Roger is the skipper of a NOAA dive boat, and he and Gini are certified as lifeguards and master divers.

We enjoyed breakfast while hungry gulls circled. Then came a little beach exploring and swimming in the tepid waters.

Sylvia is not exactly what, in today's world, would be called a fast boat. Economical? Yes. Seaworthy? Yes. Though she was considered overpowered when she received her first Chrysler Crown, about 80 horsepower for a 36-foot boat, half a century ago. Today her contemporaries require 200- to 400-horsepower engines. Cruising, she gets about 6 miles a gallon.

Returning by way of the back channel, past the lighthouse to Harkers Island, following Shackleford through the middle marshes into the inlet and Morehead City, then down Bogue Sound, we arrived at Peletier Creek barely in time to secure before a whopping good storm came rolling out of the west. A good ending to a great outing.