I’m still in Wilmington, North Carolina, tied up at Cape Fear Marina, and for now the miles aren’t changing much. After moving steadily for the better part of the last several months, I’ve decided to stay put here for a while and tackle some long overdue projects on Celtic Cross.

The big one is the solar upgrade. Between that and a handful of other repairs and improvements, this felt like the right place to stop moving for a bit and work with both feet planted on the dock. Cape Fear Marina has turned out to be exactly what I needed for that. It’s quiet, practical, and close to just about every kind of hardware or marine supply store I could ask for. So far, Wilmington has been surprisingly well stocked for boat projects. Most days I can think of a part I need in the morning and have it in my hands by the afternoon.

It’s a different rhythm than passage making. There’s no weather routing to obsess over and no real sea state to report when the boat hasn’t left the slip in days. Right now the “conditions” are extension cords, wiring diagrams, tool bags, and trying not to make three trips to the store for the same fitting.

But honestly, it’s probably time for that shift of pace.

A boat can carry you a long way, but every mile eventually asks to be paid back in maintenance. This month is about catching up on some of those debts while the boat sits still for a while. And while I may not send a newsletter every single week during this stretch, I’ll keep sharing updates as the projects move along and life at the dock unfolds a little differently than life underway.

📝Harbor Notes

One thing I didn’t expect when I decided to stop here for a while was how much I’d enjoy Wilmington itself. The longer I stay, the more the city reminds me of my years in Austin, Texas — not because they look alike, but because they share a similar energy. There’s a creative undercurrent here. Music seems to spill out of corners unexpectedly, old industrial spaces are being repurposed into something new, and there’s a sense that the city is still actively becoming itself.

One place that really captured that feeling for me was Wilmington’s Cargo District. What started as a creative use of shipping containers has grown into this interesting collection of restaurants, shops, coffee spots, and small businesses. It feels experimental in a good way — the kind of place where people are trying things because they want to build something different instead of polished.

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve explored most parts of the city. Downtown was the easiest at first because I could simply take the dinghy down the river and tie up along the waterfront. There’s something satisfying about arriving in the middle of downtown by boat, climbing out of a dinghy, and walking straight into restaurants and music venues while Celtic Cross waits upriver at the marina.

A couple weekends ago, I drove down to Florida and brought my Jeep back up here, and honestly that changed everything. Having transportation while working on boat projects makes life dramatically easier. Over the next few weeks I’ve got a steady stream of parts arriving, and being able to run across town to pick things up without coordinating Ubers or bus schedules has made these upgrades far more manageable.

And the music scene here has been a pleasant surprise. I’ve already found several places with live music, and tonight I’m heading down to the riverfront amphitheater to see Iration and Tribal Seeds. A couple reggae bands on a warm Saturday night by the water feels like a pretty good way to spend an evening while the boat sits quietly at the dock.

For now, Wilmington has become less of a stop along the route and more of a temporary home base — a place to catch my breath a little, get the boat ready for what comes next, and enjoy being still long enough to notice the character of a place.

Last Saturday evening, I stumbled across a Greek festival here in Wilmington completely by accident. I hadn’t eaten yet and figured I’d walk through, grab something simple, and see what was going on. Instead, I ended up staying most of the evening.

The food alone would have made it worthwhile. I had roast lamb, spanakopita, stuffed grape leaves, and baklava for dessert — the kind of meal where you keep telling yourself you’re finished right before going back for one more thing. But what really made the night memorable was the music.

There was a band playing traditional Greek music under one of the tents, and the sound carried across the festival grounds in that way live folk music always seems to do. The lead instrument — a bouzouki, which is a long-necked Greek string instrument somewhat related to a mandolin — gave the music this bright, rhythmic sound that felt both joyful and slightly melancholic at the same time. Even without understanding the lyrics, you could feel the history and culture woven into it.

Everybody there was welcoming. Families were dancing, people lingered at tables long after they’d finished eating, and strangers talked to each other like they’d known one another for years. It reminded me again how music and food have this ability to make you feel temporarily at home almost anywhere.

It turned into one of those evenings I never planned for but will probably remember more clearly than the ones I did.