The weather on Sunday (2weeks ago) was sunny but chilly, the wind was blowing steadily from NNW about 5-7 knots. We decided it was time to get the Amelia Maris wet.The plan was for me and my buddy to take it out by ourselves in the morning for a shakedown and then if everything went ok, we'd steam back to the Marina and pick up my wife and kids (my parents too)
My buddy and I went to the Carolina Beach State Park Marina, setup the mast and rigging and manage to get it in the water without too much drama. Pulled the cord on the 9.9 Mercury and she started to life no problem. Eased on the throttle and headed toward the opening between the jetties. I stand up and raise the tiller arm and then tiller comes up with me..suddenly we're heading toward the port jetty with no steering! Using one hand to hold the tiller, I put engine in reverse and back us back up tp the dock. The problem? We had forgotten to put in the Clovis pins that hold the tiller to the mounts. Lesson learned.
We steam back out, get in the middle of the river and raise the main and kill the engine. The most beautiful sound filled the air as the sails flapped then went silently taught. We rode with the current south with an easy broad reach. We practiced gybing, and adjusting our sails and was making about 6.5 knots (per my gps on my phone). After conquering the Cape Fear (a little hyperbole never hurt any writer..except for Hemmingway and he was drunk anyway) we turned back upstream and tried our hand at tacking. Unfortunately the current and wind were not cooperating so we packed it up and steamed back to the marina. I called my 2 anxiously awaiting sons and told them to get ready.
After and uneventful loading we steamed out of the marina, into the main channel and raised sails. Giddy with delight as we rode the same wind that carried my family here several centuries before, we took in the sights of Ft. Anderson and the ruins of Brunswick town. Further down we passed Ft. Fisher and could see the gleaming roof of the aquarium. My boys cheerfully played in the cabin, popping their heads out greet passing boats and the pod of dolphins escorting us. My son was convinced he'd be able to touch one that kept getting within 20 feet of the stern.
About 1.5 hours into it, we decided to start tacking back, but once again the current was getting the best of my unsalty seamanship. I was laying full on the tiller like a drunk Irishman on St. Patrick's, but my newly minted mistress showed her stubborn side and refused to point where I wanted her to go. After tacking and not making any headway, I finally noticed that we had drifted ar past the restricted zone markers surrounding the military munitions port at Sunny Point.
The admiral noticed that a group of men in a zodiac with what looked suspiciously like a bad-day maker mounted on the front started coming our way. Luckily once we dropped sails, fired up the engine and started steaming out they realized I was just an inept seaman, not a terrorist threat.
We steamed back to the marina with our escort keeping distance until we left the restricted area, and after another hour we were breaking down the mast.
(note: I'm the one with the funny hat)
I can't wait to go back out and work on my tacking, I also think I can do a better job trimming my sails...honestly there is nothing I probably did good, but we went out, had fun and got back in one piece. That's a start.
and letting me know what to look for next. Me in the cock pit with flashlight finding my way 
that's not suppose to happen. Mine was easily fixed with one bolt after a long walk to Lowes. 
