Oriental NC and a rest

They say that sailing is either complete peace of sheer terror. Well let me tell you about what happens when you think you've got it made. God comes and gives you a tap, telling you not to get too cocky. Two nights ago Dave and I finished a 70 mile run from Coinjock to Belhaven, NC. We were tired but there was no wind, cloudy with a threat of rain, so we decided to anchor in the harbor instead of tying  into a marina and paying the $100. We are on a strict budget and we have all winter to get through. Anyway the anchor seemed to be holding, I made us a fish dinner, had a glass of wine, and was reading a book. (The Girl in the Spider's Web). Dave had gone to bed. With the suddenness of a lightening strike the wind picked up and began howling through the rigging. I jumped up ran to the hatch and looked out. Not good. We were swinging, moving, dragging the anchor. Dave was up in a flash and into the wheelhouse to start the engine. It was pouring rain. We hauled up the anchor having drifted a quarter of a mile across the bay. Luckily the bottom is mud, silt and no hang ups. We went back to where we had been anchored and let it go again. We stayed in the wheelhouse watching our position, but not for long. Again we dragged and again we tried to set it. It's still pouring. The third time we set the anchor and it dragged we decided to find a berth. Now it is midnight, raining and we can't see a thing. We found what looked like a bulkhead, but when we got close enough just feet away we could see that there was no poles, no cleats, no place to tie. We drifted away from the land and saw what looked like pilings. A sign said 'Private Marina.' We needed a place and that was it, a port in a storm. There wasn't a soul around to ask permission from so we tied up the Richard & Arnold, got out of our wet clothes and slept like babies. The next morning a nice gentleman came by at 6:30 to say he watched us last night. With all the lights on he wasn't sure what kind of a boat we were and it looked like there were a lot of people running all over the boat. I said, "Yes that was Dave and me." We left the dock a few minutes later and did a 49 mile run to Oriental. It was rough where the Pungo River meets the Nuese River but the boat didn't seem to mind. Right at the area where we were to turn to port and head up the Nuese for Oriental, I said to Dave, "That anchor looks like its going to slide off the deck." He said, "Nah, it's not that rough." Five minutes later the anchor slid off the deck and Dave flew out the wheelhouse door. The anchor, chain and most of the line (200) feet was on its way to the bottom. Dave managed to grab the last six feet of line and wrap it around a cleat. The boat was thrashing in a six foot chop as he put the rope around the capstan and brought the anchor back aboard. We made it into Oriental Harbor at about 2 in the afternoon. We have a great spot to tie up with the commercial fishing boats and will be here for a few days visiting friends, Randy and Ellen.