7:55am departure for a beautiful day of cruising! Rivers, sounds and land cuts. Averaged 24.8mph after 8 hours of running (including 4 bridges requiring openings, a fuel-stop, many slow-down passes of sailboats, a tug pushing a barge through a land cut, and even a dredge in a land cut). We lunched on another section of that Bobbie sub while underway. A lot of miles today, but far easier than the day before and we were tucked in to a slip and enjoying a drink before the sun set.
Town Dock in Beaufort, NC. This was one of my favorite stops last time. On arrival, they give you a wooden nickel (2 actually) which buys you a free beer in the local bar overlooking the harbor. I'm glad they give you two, because inevitably, one ends up in your pocket as a souvenir.
Sunset over Morehead City (the sister city to Beaufort)
I've got two "must do" things if you get to Beaufort, NC (pronounced Bo-fort), don't mix it up with Beaufort, SC (pronounced Bu-fort), they don't want to be called "Bu-fort". Just remember "Bo No" for "Bo-fort NOrth Carolina). Now, to the two must do things...
Dinner at the Beaufort Grocery Co.
Excellent food. Anything you order here should be wonderful. I could have made a meal just from the Saganaki, a great cabernet and a baguette, but I ate far, far more than that. Saganaki is Kasseri cheese (Greek sheeps cheese) flamed in brandy with a lemon squeezed on top. Something like baked brie. If you've got more than one night in Beaufort, try out the Blue Moon Bistro next door, I hear it's every bit as good.
You can leave this step out...
After dinner, I wanted to check out a bar Christian (my Mercruiser mechanic, and friend from Haven Harbour) had told me about. He said it was in Morehead City just a block or so from the waterfront. We got a cab and headed over the bridge ($12 ride) to Morehead City (the sister city of Beaufort). I couldn't remember the name of the bar but in talking to people, I thought the "Ice House" sounded like what Christian had described to me. It wasn't. It was dead and Morehead City did not seem like the place I wanted to be. I called Christian. He said "it's called The Backstreet Bar" and went on to describe precisely where it was in Morehead City. Listening to his description of the location, I said, "are you sure you weren't in Beaufort?" and he replied "I've never been to Beaufort". I checked the internet on my cell phone. It's called the Backstreet Pub, and guess where it is??? One block from my boat, back in Beaufort. So back in a cab for another $12 ride over the bridge to where we began in the first place.
Backstreet Pub has been called the friendliest, funkiest little bar from Maine to Venezuela. Housed in a tiny, century-old former bakery, it is famous among sailors who cruise the ICW and who have covered the walls with nautical memorabilia. It's also a local hangout for fishermen and writers, waitresses and tugboat captains, retired spies, deep sea divers and just about anyone looking for a cold beer, cheap wine (I couldn't drink it personally) and some decent conversation.
Tad and I looked around. It was a tiny place, which I calculated was no more that 14' wide and 40' long (including the bar itself and everything). There was a fire in the fireplace and a cozy warmth to the place but I couldn't see why Christian called it the "coolest bar I've ever been to". The front door handle was a large cleat, the back door had a hatchet in it as a handle. The old brick walls were covered in life-rings and other nautical memorabilia. There was great music coming from someplace, but there had to me more to it... I asked the bartender. She told me that there was a courtyard out back (but there was a wedding reception going on it). And of course there was upstairs. An upstairs? Where, up that crazy little, metal spiral staircase? Yes.
I'm sure those stairs wouldn't meet any sort of building codes these days, steep and narrow, yet so perfect for this place. As we climbed the staircase it became evident that the great music we had been hearing was a band playing in the small confines above. The Casserole (a blend of blue-grass, rock, country and a little reggae) was rocking the place. They were great and there was a wonderful energy to the place. More life-rings, low ceilings, wide-planked wood floors and a bookcase as a backdrop to the band. I felt like I had just crawled up in to my neighbors garage attic to hang out with my closest friends in high school and jam to some great tunes. It was intimate. Everyone was stomping and cheering and you could feel the floor flexing to the rhythms. The bride & groom came up from the reception below and joined in the dancing. We were suddenly as much a part of the wedding celebration as if an invited guest.
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