After getting the photos inserted into the last note and sending it, we headed ashore to the Shrimp Festival. The best decorated boat parade was beginning as we dinghied into the marina. We watched for a bit before heading to the food booths, it was lunch time, and it was hard to pick and choose between all the food stands. We both got shrimp, mine boiled, Leonard's a fried dinner with French fries. Mine were hard to peel, but tasty, and I got more shrimp.
Decorated Shrimp Boat
We headed up the main street to check out the craft booths. The number of exhibitors was mind boggling! Although the blocks are short, the exhibits stretched for 8 blocks up from the waterfront, and then ran a block in either direction at each side street. The street was packed with people, most only looking, like us. I felt sorry for the numerous dogs that were along for a walk, it was very hot, approaching 90, in the afternoon, and I didn't see any pet watering stations. This year we found the kid's section with the usual face painting, do-it-yourself art booths, pony rides, and a bungy cord/trampoline ride that had kids doing flips in the air. This festival obviously draws a huge crowd of locals and visitors, with something for everyone, and has to be a boon for the local economy.
Some of the crowd at the craft fair on Main St.
After listening to part of a concert on the waterfront, we were ready to go back to the boat. We'd had enough to eat (shrimp pie, strawberry smoothies, and funnel cake on the trip up the street) that I didn't plan on fixing dinner, but bought a pound of fresh, local shrimp at the fish market, just in case. We made reservations at the marina for Monday to make running all our errands easier before heading back to the boat. By then, the afternoon onshore breeze was blowing a steady 20 kts, and it was much cooler on board than it had been ashore.
We were up bright and early on Monday, and got fuel before going to our slip. In hopes of beating the heat of the day, it was to be another hot, humid day, Leonard set about getting the bikes ready after breakfast for the ride to the grocery store. Unfortunately, my bike appeared to have a flat tire, and it appeared I needed a new inner tube. Not good. By then it was already getting hot, and the thought of a 5 mile hike in the heat of the day (another 90, plus high humidity) didn't appeal to either of us. Looking at our options, we reserved a car from Enterprise, justifying the cost of the car would likely equal a cab ride back with the groceries and give us more mobility, By the time we got the car, Leonard had figured out that the problem with my bike was the pump, not the tube, so we didn't need to look for a replacement, an iffy proposition given the odd size.
Somehow the day flew past. After finishing the reprovisioning, we still had a lot left to do. Lots of washing; boat, laundry, and showers for us. We managed to fit everything in and sneak up to a local pub for dinner while the laundry was in the drier. The only item left on our to-do list was to fill a propane tank which would wait until morning. The up side of revisiting places is knowing what services are available along the way.
After returning the car on Tuesday, we sailed slowly for the anchorage on the west side of Cumberland Island where we planned to wait for the next offshore weather window, most likely Thursday. A frontal system was due to move over the area during the afternoon and drift slowly to the east. We've always enjoyed this anchorage and look forward to visiting the island. As we prepared to drop the anchor, a group of dolphins swam over to check us out. By the time the anchor was set, the weather looked unsettled enough that we decided to wait before launching the dinghy.
It rained off and on during the afternoon, with storm warnings issued a bit further north which didn't affect us. I was surprised when I glanced up from my book to see a huge turtle head appear beside the boat. The head appeared to be about 5 inches as it surfaced briefly several times, making me wish for the clear waters of the Bahamas so I could see the whole turtle. We've snorkeled a number of times and seen turtles, but never one this large. I wasn't sure I'd want to see one quite this big next to me in the water. It came back a couple of times during the afternoon, and one time it appeared to look at me before disappearing.
We watched as a group of people gathered by the ranger's station. A few folks standing in the sprinkles turned into a crowd standing in the rain. For whatever reason, they weren't allowed onto the boat until 16:45, at which time it was raining fairly hard, and other than a few umbrellas, no one appeared to have been prepared for change in the weather. We think must have been a class trip, as the ferry full when it left, and most of the pasangers were sitting or standing out in the rain rather than inside.
After dinner I went into the cockpit to bring the hand held VHF below, and found a mud flat not that far behind the boat. If the anchor drag alarm went off during the night, we'd need to get up sooner rather than later! However, we were in 13' of water at low tide and had set the anchor well.
Mud flat in the sunset
Mud flat in the daytime
The morning brought humid, hot, and still conditions. We discussed taking our bikes ashore, but decided it was too hot and sticky to haul them out and get them into the dinghy, and thought the main road, which is dirt, might be slippery from the rain the evening before. We did ask about bike rental prices at the ranger's station, but a $16 each, just walked over to the beach.
We were glad to find a bit of a sea breeze on the beach which made walking pleasant. Occasional glances over our shoulders as we went north gave glimpses of clouds building to the west. We'd planned to hike up to the Grayfield path, and then take the parallel trail, through the woods, back, bur decided to head back along the beach as the clouds grew. We'd left the boat pretty much closed up, just in case, but wanted to be close enough to get back in a hurry if the wind came up. By the time we arrived at the Seacamp camping grounds, the clouds had broken up, so we sat in the shade and ate lunch.
Dung Beetle at work
Rather than go back to the beach after lunch, Leonard decided we'd get the bikes and ride north on the main road to Plum Orchard, another of the Carnegie mansions we've visited from the Brickhill River by boat. Cumberland Island is large, about 18 nm long, most of which is National Park, or owned by the Nature Conservancy, although there are several parcels that are still privately owned. Grayfield Inn being a privately owned B&B ($400/night) that includes ferry service from Fernandina Beach to a dock about a mile further north along the shore.
Creek with horses grazing
We'd found our northern half of the park map on board, but weren't able to get the standard map for the southern portion from the ranger's station. We rode a long way before finding ourselves on our map. The road started out fairly decent for biking. It had been freshly graded, with the loose sand and gravel pushed to one side, making for smooth peddling. Unfortunately that ended after a couple of miles, and it was a choice of picking the lesser of two evils, teeth rattling washboard conditions in the tire tracks, or several inches of loose sand in the middle of the road. There were also piles of horse manure strategically scattered on the road that were best avoided. None of which make for pleasant biking conditions.
Leonard figured it was about 8 miles each way, but I stopped having fun before we got back. With our little tires it required concentration and a tight grip to keep upright. Being a narrow, single lane road, we had to get off the road every time we met a vehicle which fortunately wasn't often. I lost count of the armadillos after about the 6th one we saw. They were foraging along side the road. Worst of all, the grader had carefully spread the loose sand and gravel back across the road bed by the time we got back. We were both glad when we reached the ranger's station.
Plum Orchard
I'd hoped to do the boardwalk along the marsh at the southern end of the island, but was too tired to hike the 1.5 miles down and back, and really didn't want to ride my bike any further. Leonard did offer to run down to the other park dock by dinghy after we got the bikes back on board, but by then, the temptation of a hot shower was more appealing. Besides I still had to fix dinner. Other than Grayfield Inn for which we had neither reservations or appropriate attire, the island is strictly pack in, pack out, the only amenities offered being toilets and water.
We planned on an early morning departure to catch the ebb current out the St. Marys River, headed for Charleston. Unfortunately the wind conditions broke our streak of offshore sailing. The wind was forecast to be L&V. clocking from the W to the E. Much of the day was spent motor sailing, getting a little boost from the wind every now and then. The sea was almost glassy calm, and we spotted a couple of turtles basking on the surface, one of which had barnacles on its shell. We also had a visit by some dolphins who swam alongside for a spell. By mid afternoon, the wind had clocked around to the east giving us a sailing wind. We much prefer the splashing of the waves to the drone of the diesel. Four of us departed the St.Marys River about the same time, so we'll have other boats in sight for most of the trip.
Sunset in the haze in the evening
Other than another encounter with the blue arrow of death (on my wee hours of the morning watch), it was an easy hop. We finally dropped the main before dawn because it kept flicking water on us from the heavy dew every time it flopped in the swell (the wind was light and almost dead astern). Once we turned the corner and headed into Charleston we ran out the jib and got a bit of a boost to help us fight the ebb tide. Luckily I made reservations at the Charleston Maritime Center as we headed out the St. Mary's River. I overheard a conversation between 2 of the boats headed to Charleston that the city marina was full (it is huge). The dock crew at the Maritime Center confirmed that we wanted 2 nights when we tied up as there are folks hoping to grab any opening available. With the good weather window a lot of snow birds are heading north at the same time.
Sent 5/11/2010 from Charleston, SC
What a great place to visit! We're always amazed by the ambiance of the city and enjoy simply walking through the neighborhoods peeking at the gardens and architecture. The azalea/rhododendron season was past, but the air was filled with the heady scent of jasmine, almost to the point of too much. Jasmine seemed to be growing on every hedge and fence and in full bloom.
Typical Courtyard
Two Lake Champlain boats in Charleston
As we were working the folks from the next boat stopped by to inquire
if we really were from Burlington, as they were keep their boat at Port
Henry, NY. Turned out we'd met them briefly last summer when the
Tartan 34 Rendezvous was held on the LCYC docks. We enjoyed
chatting
with them. They spent the winter in Stuart, FL, having decided
the
weather wasn't conducive to crossing to the Bahamas, and were now
heading back to the lake on the ICW.
A really narrow house
In the calendar of events Leonard picked up at the marina office, I noticed mention of an art walk in the French Quarter Friday evening, so after a leisurely shower, off we went to explore the galleries. The event attracted quite a crowd during the evening, and we enjoyed people watching, art, music, food, and drink. We'd planned on eating out, but by dinner time we weren't hungry. Having the chance to look at a number of interesting buildings was fascinating. Several of the galleries were multistory affairs and we enjoyed checking out buildings as much as seeing the art work. The Charleston "shotgun" houses, one room wide (taxes were levied on the street width of the building, so the older homes are narrow and deep), made for some interesting interior layouts. We also saw some of the courtyards that we only catch glimpses of from the street. The people watching was a treat too, as this is the South where folks really enjoy dressing up, especially the women. By the event's end at 2000, we were more than ready to walk back to the boat and settle in for a good night's sleep.
Boat Tailed Crackle in the park
Saturday was the farmer's market at Marion Square, about 1/2 mile from
the marina. I headed off after breakfast in search of fresh
produce.
It was a fairly large market with a nice mix of produce, crafts and
food. The previous weekend had been the strawberry festival and
there
were still beautiful fresh picked berries to be had. I was
disappointed to learn that not all produce was raised (or even local)
by the vendors, but there were fresh local shell peas and
lettuce. We
also made the requisite visit to Saffron, the bakery cafe run by a
Swiss pastry chef, for benne seed wafers and other treats. After
lunch
we took another walk, heading down to the battery and waterfront
park.
With the temperatures still in the 90s, it was hot. We watched as
one
boat tailed grackle hopped down to a water fountain and got a drink
from the faucet. Eventually we ended up at the brew pub on East
Bay
where we've enjoyed both the food and brews in the past. I
decided it
was too hot to cook.
This weekend was graduation at Charleston College and the Citadel, as well as senior prom at the local high schools, so town was hopping. We enjoyed seeing the kids dressed to kill, most girls in long gowns and the guys in tuxes. In spite of the tuxes, most guys looked more like 14 rather than 18, while the girls looked college aged, except when dealing with stairs, long gowns and 4 inch heels. The variety of gowns was interesting to see.
The Spirit of South Carolina out for a sail
Our plan was to head toward Georgetown on Sunday, but the arrival of a
cold front changed our mind with it's brisk N wind. It would have
been
a day of motoring into the wind, slow going, and splashy, so we stayed
put for another day as did most of the folks at the marina.
Leonard
had planned on a bike ride in the morning before departing, and now it
could be more leisurely and longer. We rode up the suspension
bridge
again, over to the Citadel, and then headed to the marinas on the
Ashley River. I was glad it was cooler (70s) and not as
humid. Later
in the day we took another walk and were lured into the Noisy Oyster
restaurant by their promise of $2 Bloody Marys on our way back to the
boat. Since it was Mother's Day, I was given a carnation and 3
chocolate truffles.
Lynnea on the bike ride
The Citadel
Leonard planned to take on fuel before leaving the marina, but during the night someone had tied up on the fuel dock. Rather than fight the wind and current to tie up ahead of him, we decided to stop at the marina at Isle of the Palms where neither wind nor current would be an issue. It was also necessary to time our departure to clear the Ben Sawyer Bridge which was closed for boat traffic from 0600-0900. We missed getting through with the group of boats waiting for the 0900 opening, but once the traffic had cleared the road, the bridge opened for us with only a minimal delay. Getting fuel at Isle of the Palms was a breeze, no fenders were necessary since they had large ones attached to the dock face (why don't more marinas do this at their fuel docks?) and there was plenty of help with dock lines.
The shallow water along this portion of the ICW was a reminder as to why we do overnight hops. It can be a bit nerve wracking to deal with both the shoals and boat traffic, and with low tide around noon, we had plenty of shallow water. Leonard spotted a crocodile swimming in the ICW, a first. He thought it was a log until it sank and resurfaced before going down again. We enjoyed watching the birds feeding on the mud flats. We turned off the ICW at the junction with the North Santee River where we headed up stream and around a bend. Just after we dropped the hook a large pod of dolphins swam past, feeding in the current. They are always fun to watch. As we ate dinner I noticed a flock of birds flying past. I thought they were cormorants until I checked with the binoculars. It was the first of a number for flocks of glossy ibis, a species I've looked for in the past, but not seen. It was a perfect evening as we enjoyed the late day light on the salt marsh grass and the various birds.
Flight of Glossy Ibis
A listen to the weather forecast delayed our offshore hop for another
day. Winds pushing 20 kts out of the east with 5 foot seas, 3
foot
swell, and the possibility of rain, weren't quite the conditions we
wanted. With SW winds forecast for the rest of the week it made sense
to head for Georgetown for the day. I wasn't sure if it was the
lure
of Kudzu's pecan pie or the weather that changed Leonard's mind.
Georgetown has always been a great place to stop, and I was glad not to
miss it on our way north. I'd been hoping to pick up fresh shrimp
for
dinner. The only downside to stopping here is the usually crowded
anchorage. With the anchorage nearly full, we finally found a
open
spot and dropped the hook back by the defunct steel mill.
Our plan is to spend the night in Georgetown before heading offshore for Beaufort, NC in the morning. Most likely we'll bypass Beaufort and spend the night on Adam's Creek on our way to Ocracoke.
What a great place to visit! We're always amazed by the ambiance of the city and enjoy simply walking through the neighborhoods peeking at the gardens and architecture. The azalea/rhododendron season was past, but the air was filled with the heady scent of jasmine, almost to the point of too much. Jasmine seemed to be growing on every hedge and fence and in full bloom.
Typical Courtyard
Our timing was great. We were the first boat
arriving at the marina and had our choice of spots. Both of us
were
tired after the offshore run, and with the temperatures soaring into
the 90's with humidity to match, we didn't have a lot of energy for the
chores that needed doing. After a brief rest, we dug out the hose
and
gave the boat a well deserved wash. Getting wet while cleaning
felt
good for a change, and it was nice to get the salt off the decks and
out from under the dodger.
Two Lake Champlain boats in Charleston
A really narrow house
In the calendar of events Leonard picked up at the marina office, I noticed mention of an art walk in the French Quarter Friday evening, so after a leisurely shower, off we went to explore the galleries. The event attracted quite a crowd during the evening, and we enjoyed people watching, art, music, food, and drink. We'd planned on eating out, but by dinner time we weren't hungry. Having the chance to look at a number of interesting buildings was fascinating. Several of the galleries were multistory affairs and we enjoyed checking out buildings as much as seeing the art work. The Charleston "shotgun" houses, one room wide (taxes were levied on the street width of the building, so the older homes are narrow and deep), made for some interesting interior layouts. We also saw some of the courtyards that we only catch glimpses of from the street. The people watching was a treat too, as this is the South where folks really enjoy dressing up, especially the women. By the event's end at 2000, we were more than ready to walk back to the boat and settle in for a good night's sleep.
Boat Tailed Crackle in the park
This weekend was graduation at Charleston College and the Citadel, as well as senior prom at the local high schools, so town was hopping. We enjoyed seeing the kids dressed to kill, most girls in long gowns and the guys in tuxes. In spite of the tuxes, most guys looked more like 14 rather than 18, while the girls looked college aged, except when dealing with stairs, long gowns and 4 inch heels. The variety of gowns was interesting to see.
The Spirit of South Carolina out for a sail
Lynnea on the bike ride
The Citadel
Leonard planned to take on fuel before leaving the marina, but during the night someone had tied up on the fuel dock. Rather than fight the wind and current to tie up ahead of him, we decided to stop at the marina at Isle of the Palms where neither wind nor current would be an issue. It was also necessary to time our departure to clear the Ben Sawyer Bridge which was closed for boat traffic from 0600-0900. We missed getting through with the group of boats waiting for the 0900 opening, but once the traffic had cleared the road, the bridge opened for us with only a minimal delay. Getting fuel at Isle of the Palms was a breeze, no fenders were necessary since they had large ones attached to the dock face (why don't more marinas do this at their fuel docks?) and there was plenty of help with dock lines.
The shallow water along this portion of the ICW was a reminder as to why we do overnight hops. It can be a bit nerve wracking to deal with both the shoals and boat traffic, and with low tide around noon, we had plenty of shallow water. Leonard spotted a crocodile swimming in the ICW, a first. He thought it was a log until it sank and resurfaced before going down again. We enjoyed watching the birds feeding on the mud flats. We turned off the ICW at the junction with the North Santee River where we headed up stream and around a bend. Just after we dropped the hook a large pod of dolphins swam past, feeding in the current. They are always fun to watch. As we ate dinner I noticed a flock of birds flying past. I thought they were cormorants until I checked with the binoculars. It was the first of a number for flocks of glossy ibis, a species I've looked for in the past, but not seen. It was a perfect evening as we enjoyed the late day light on the salt marsh grass and the various birds.
Flight of Glossy Ibis
Our plan is to spend the night in Georgetown before heading offshore for Beaufort, NC in the morning. Most likely we'll bypass Beaufort and spend the night on Adam's Creek on our way to Ocracoke.
Sent 5/11/2010 from Adams Creek Anchorage,
NC
After getting the last note posted, we pumped up the dinghy before heading for shore. It appears the valves on the dinghy are starting to go as it looked very limp up on the bow when we left Charleston. We were glad to have the air stay inside, where it belongs, at Georgetown, although we'd taken the foot pump with us, just in case. We may regret not having purchased the new dinghy we looked at in Annapolis last fall. At the time Leonard wasn't sure we could fit it on the deck, and with a hard bottom it would have been heavier to get on board, but it would have been had the advantage of being a drier dinghy both from a riding and more impervious to damage from groundings.
Georgetown, SC waterfront
Shrimp boats by the steel mill
A few more boats had anchored in the harbor, several down by us off the defunct steel mill. It's not as convenient to the dinghy docks, but does offer more space and isn't a bad spot since the mill is closed. There appear to be a number of local live-a-boards moored in the recommended anchorage off the rice clock tower making it harder for transients to find room. On our walk after dinner, we realized we should have taken advantage of the falling tide to move to an anchorage south of the ICW to shorten the distance, by about 8 nm, we'd be fighting the current when we left in the morning. Instead, we just enjoyed our walk and took in part of a little league game until the no-see-ums sent us back to the boat. For the most part, bugs haven't been a problem, but we've encountered some big flies along with the no-see-ums along the South Carolina coast making us thankful for our screens.
Unique shaped flower
With a long day ahead, we had the anchor up by 0630 and were headed on our way. The hop from Georgetown to Beaufort, NC is about 170 nm, which the chart plotter estimates will take us some 30+ hours at 5.5 kts. Although there was still current running up the bay, it was past maximum, and had dwindled down to almost nothing by the time we cleared the jetties. We had a nice farewell sendoff from a group of dolphins as we headed out. The wind which was forecast to build during the day, wasn't quite strong enough for sailing as we headed on our course, so we reverted to motor sailing, with the sails providing a boost.
True to form, the weather folks changed their forecast once we were underway. The forecast had, dropped the stronger SE winds, leaving us with 10 - 15 kt winds dead astern, not the most advantageous combination for sailing given the 3 foot swells from one direction and the 3 foot waves from another. We were glad to shut down the engine around 1400, and sail until the winds went light again after midnight. We spent a lot of time yawing, sometimes up to 30 degrees, in the combination of swell and waves which made it difficult to prepare meals and sleep. I'm lucky, I can sit in the cockpit and read, but Leonard finds doing anything requiring close vision uncomfortable in those conditions.
It was a rather boring trip. No dolphins visited, no hitch hiking birds joined us and there weren't even any birds to watch, just lots of water. I watched as the constellation Scorpious, with our name star, Antares, rose out of the sea and headed westward through the night. At home we can't see the stinger or Cat Eyes, an impressive pair of bright stars, which remain below the horizon at that latitude. With the new moon on Thursday night, it was a moonless night, with enough haze to dim the lessor stars.
We could see one other boat who slowly passed us during the night, and several freighters coming out of Wilmington. I spotted a turtle after we started into Beaufort, and we saw numerous pods of dolphins in the harbor and up the river. The channel in was awash with fishing boats. We'd managed to time our arrival at the time of maximum ebb, so everyone (including dolphins) was taking advantage of the tidal change to fish. The wind which had been on the stern the whole trip, switched to dead ahead, (not forecast), in conjunction with clouds and a few brief sprinkles. We were glad the wind waited to switch until we had almost arrived, rather than in the middle of the night.
We heard several interesting warnings on the radio as we headed north. There is one pontoon swing bridge on the ICW on this section which doesn't operate in low water. Given the spring tides with the low tide occurring mid day, we heard announcements that it was closed until further notice. The fact that this does occur is noted in the guide books, but isn't necessarily something that registers as happening when you want to transit the area. Then as we came into Beaufort we could hear a barge captain who had run aground, effectively blocking the ICW. We never did determine where the barge was, as the Coast Guard didn't make a formal announcement. Leonard also heard loud rumbles on his watch and was unsure if it was thunder (no nearby lightening) or if the Marines were having dawn maneuvers at Camp Lejeune, which also closes the ICW. Maybe dealing with the swell was a small price to pay given the possible unforeseen delays on the ICW.
As we threaded our way through the shoals on the Newport River which is part of the ICW connecting Beaufort and Morehead City to the Pamlico Sound, we saw one power boat who had obviously missed a mark. The river is tricky, with numerous sandbars, requiring some vigilance, as there is more than one channel. We've found some of the marks confusing in the past, but then again, we usually slow down when we're not sure where we're going. It looked like this captain had been going full tilt given his position on the sandbank, with the dropping tide, he was surrounded by sand. He'd need to wait until high tide, late in the afternoon, before he could think about getting back in the channel.
What happens when you head for the wrong marks
Rather than head into Beaufort or Morehead City to take on fuel, we stopped at Jarrett Boatworks on Adams Creek on our way toward Pamlico Sound. It was surprising how fast the current moves the boat. I'd rigged for a starboard (right) side tie up given the wind and current, and when we arrived it was obvious port side, which works better with our prop walk, would be better. Leonard let the boat drift to lend a hand in switching the lines and fenders and we were going sideways back down the creek in short order in the 2 kt current. I was relieved when the dock hand said we'd get out of the current before we tied up on the fuel dock. It all worked out without a hitch.
It was approaching 1700 when we finally reached the anchorage on Adams Creek that we've used in the past. After 34 hours and 203 nms, we were ready to call it a day. Once we got anchored Leonard suggested a hot shower might be in order, we had plenty of hot water given the hours we'd motored. The shower felt great and helped revive me enough to fix dinner. Looks like it will be an early night. We can hear a Chuck Willow's Widow calling in the nearby woods.
We'll head to Ocracoke in the morning. Seems the line between the Carolinas is also the dividing line between weather systems, with the northern section being less settled. Shifting winds and showers are mentioned in the forecasts, although nothing severe. It's to get back up to the 90's again, but then again, today was forecast to be hot, but the cloud cover, wind, and sprinkles kept the temperatures cool enough to wear long pants and fleeces.
After getting the last note posted, we pumped up the dinghy before heading for shore. It appears the valves on the dinghy are starting to go as it looked very limp up on the bow when we left Charleston. We were glad to have the air stay inside, where it belongs, at Georgetown, although we'd taken the foot pump with us, just in case. We may regret not having purchased the new dinghy we looked at in Annapolis last fall. At the time Leonard wasn't sure we could fit it on the deck, and with a hard bottom it would have been heavier to get on board, but it would have been had the advantage of being a drier dinghy both from a riding and more impervious to damage from groundings.
The Nina and Pinta open for viewing at Georgetown, SC
First stop on shore was the bakery for 1/2 a pecan pie. The clouds that had threatened rain as we headed ashore began to sprinkle on us, so we headed to the bookstore to trade in some old books for new-to-us reading material, which just left getting fresh shrimp on our to do list. After passing several barber shops (we'd looked in vain for salons or barbers in Charleston) we picked one and waited out the shower getting our hair trimmed. By the time we'd gotten the shrimp, the weather was clearing so we headed back to the boat for an early dinner with plans to go for a walk after dinner. To our surprise, we found the folks from Trefoil, the Tartan 34 from Port Henry that we'd met in Charleston, by the dinghy. Their dog had been having problems, and I had suggested the local vet who the Bushees (folks from Release and Shelburne Bay) had highly recommended after Skipper's visit last fall. The vet got another sterling review, and I got thanks for the recommendation!
Georgetown, SC waterfront
Shrimp boats by the steel mill
A few more boats had anchored in the harbor, several down by us off the defunct steel mill. It's not as convenient to the dinghy docks, but does offer more space and isn't a bad spot since the mill is closed. There appear to be a number of local live-a-boards moored in the recommended anchorage off the rice clock tower making it harder for transients to find room. On our walk after dinner, we realized we should have taken advantage of the falling tide to move to an anchorage south of the ICW to shorten the distance, by about 8 nm, we'd be fighting the current when we left in the morning. Instead, we just enjoyed our walk and took in part of a little league game until the no-see-ums sent us back to the boat. For the most part, bugs haven't been a problem, but we've encountered some big flies along with the no-see-ums along the South Carolina coast making us thankful for our screens.
Unique shaped flower
With a long day ahead, we had the anchor up by 0630 and were headed on our way. The hop from Georgetown to Beaufort, NC is about 170 nm, which the chart plotter estimates will take us some 30+ hours at 5.5 kts. Although there was still current running up the bay, it was past maximum, and had dwindled down to almost nothing by the time we cleared the jetties. We had a nice farewell sendoff from a group of dolphins as we headed out. The wind which was forecast to build during the day, wasn't quite strong enough for sailing as we headed on our course, so we reverted to motor sailing, with the sails providing a boost.
True to form, the weather folks changed their forecast once we were underway. The forecast had, dropped the stronger SE winds, leaving us with 10 - 15 kt winds dead astern, not the most advantageous combination for sailing given the 3 foot swells from one direction and the 3 foot waves from another. We were glad to shut down the engine around 1400, and sail until the winds went light again after midnight. We spent a lot of time yawing, sometimes up to 30 degrees, in the combination of swell and waves which made it difficult to prepare meals and sleep. I'm lucky, I can sit in the cockpit and read, but Leonard finds doing anything requiring close vision uncomfortable in those conditions.
It was a rather boring trip. No dolphins visited, no hitch hiking birds joined us and there weren't even any birds to watch, just lots of water. I watched as the constellation Scorpious, with our name star, Antares, rose out of the sea and headed westward through the night. At home we can't see the stinger or Cat Eyes, an impressive pair of bright stars, which remain below the horizon at that latitude. With the new moon on Thursday night, it was a moonless night, with enough haze to dim the lessor stars.
We could see one other boat who slowly passed us during the night, and several freighters coming out of Wilmington. I spotted a turtle after we started into Beaufort, and we saw numerous pods of dolphins in the harbor and up the river. The channel in was awash with fishing boats. We'd managed to time our arrival at the time of maximum ebb, so everyone (including dolphins) was taking advantage of the tidal change to fish. The wind which had been on the stern the whole trip, switched to dead ahead, (not forecast), in conjunction with clouds and a few brief sprinkles. We were glad the wind waited to switch until we had almost arrived, rather than in the middle of the night.
We heard several interesting warnings on the radio as we headed north. There is one pontoon swing bridge on the ICW on this section which doesn't operate in low water. Given the spring tides with the low tide occurring mid day, we heard announcements that it was closed until further notice. The fact that this does occur is noted in the guide books, but isn't necessarily something that registers as happening when you want to transit the area. Then as we came into Beaufort we could hear a barge captain who had run aground, effectively blocking the ICW. We never did determine where the barge was, as the Coast Guard didn't make a formal announcement. Leonard also heard loud rumbles on his watch and was unsure if it was thunder (no nearby lightening) or if the Marines were having dawn maneuvers at Camp Lejeune, which also closes the ICW. Maybe dealing with the swell was a small price to pay given the possible unforeseen delays on the ICW.
As we threaded our way through the shoals on the Newport River which is part of the ICW connecting Beaufort and Morehead City to the Pamlico Sound, we saw one power boat who had obviously missed a mark. The river is tricky, with numerous sandbars, requiring some vigilance, as there is more than one channel. We've found some of the marks confusing in the past, but then again, we usually slow down when we're not sure where we're going. It looked like this captain had been going full tilt given his position on the sandbank, with the dropping tide, he was surrounded by sand. He'd need to wait until high tide, late in the afternoon, before he could think about getting back in the channel.
What happens when you head for the wrong marks
Rather than head into Beaufort or Morehead City to take on fuel, we stopped at Jarrett Boatworks on Adams Creek on our way toward Pamlico Sound. It was surprising how fast the current moves the boat. I'd rigged for a starboard (right) side tie up given the wind and current, and when we arrived it was obvious port side, which works better with our prop walk, would be better. Leonard let the boat drift to lend a hand in switching the lines and fenders and we were going sideways back down the creek in short order in the 2 kt current. I was relieved when the dock hand said we'd get out of the current before we tied up on the fuel dock. It all worked out without a hitch.
It was approaching 1700 when we finally reached the anchorage on Adams Creek that we've used in the past. After 34 hours and 203 nms, we were ready to call it a day. Once we got anchored Leonard suggested a hot shower might be in order, we had plenty of hot water given the hours we'd motored. The shower felt great and helped revive me enough to fix dinner. Looks like it will be an early night. We can hear a Chuck Willow's Widow calling in the nearby woods.
We'll head to Ocracoke in the morning. Seems the line between the Carolinas is also the dividing line between weather systems, with the northern section being less settled. Shifting winds and showers are mentioned in the forecasts, although nothing severe. It's to get back up to the 90's again, but then again, today was forecast to be hot, but the cloud cover, wind, and sprinkles kept the temperatures cool enough to wear long pants and fleeces.
Sent 5/16/2010 from an anchorage just south
of Coinjock, NC
After a good night's sleep, we headed out into the Pamlico Sound, joining the fleet heading north. There was quite a fleet, a mix of sail and power, most carefully following the magical magenta line that depicts the ICW on their chart plotters which takes them to Belhaven. Our plans diverted from the fleet and line as we headed east toward Ocracoke. We spoke with one sail boat who was taking the Sound route around Brant Shoal and past a restricted area before heading to Belhaven. He figured that route saved about 10 nm and provided a chance to actually sail.
We could see two other boats heading east toward Ocracoke. The winds came and went most of the day from a southerly direction which made for a reasonable sail. One boat ran up a spinnaker - it was a perfect day and it would have been nice to have one too - but we made do with a poled out jib and the main tied down on the opposite side of the boat. It's much easier to sail this way when there isn't a swell and sea running to back the sails when you come off a wave wrong.
Hitch hikers on the way to Ocracoke
We should know by now that the wind blows whenever we head for the Outer Banks. It came up on the last leg before we turned into the channel to the harbor, enough so that we reefed the main as it climbed into the upper 20's. We watched as the folks with the spinnaker tried to douse it with the spinnaker sock which refused to go to the foot of the sail. It looked pretty exciting since there are numerous shoals in the area to be avoided. Another boat was sailing from the north, and we all arrived at the channel entrance at more or less the same time.
With the wind blowing, we soon had the decks well salted as we headed in. There were more boats in Silver Lake than we've seen on past trips, so we were glad to find a place on the park docks to tie up. The problem was the wind which was in the mid 20s with stronger gusts. Under these conditions it's not just a good idea, but necessary, not to dock going down wind since stopping becomes a major problem. We were doing fine until the wind caught the bow as we approached the dock, making for less than graceful docking. I simply don't have enough mass to fend the boat against that much wind. Another boater on the dock came to catch our line and helped push the bow off, but even with 2 of us it was work. No damage other than to egos.
Wild life at Ocracoke
After checking in and rinsing the salt off the boat, we walked into
town. Quite a crowd was gathered at the Anchorage Marina next
door to
the park docks. I think it was a fishing tournament. We saw
2 guys
carrying a bucket of big fish, and there was live music at the outside
bar with lots of folks tapping their feet. We went off to the
Thai
take away place to get dinner.
We planned to leave in the morning and either head to Manteo on Roanoke Island or Belhaven providing the weather cooperated. I would have liked to have spent a day in port, but the Captain was showing signs of the "barn" syndrome and wanted to keep moving. Although the wind was still blowing in the morning, it wasn't as strong, and forecast to blow out of the SE at 10 - 15 and drop in the afternoon. Leonard suggested waiting until 0800 to leave so we could call for reservations in Manteo, so with reservations in hand, we headed out shortly after 0800.
There is a lot of water in that part of the Pamlico Sound, it just isn't very deep. Once we got past the numerous crab pots close to Ocracoke, there was nothing to see but water in all directions since that portion of the Pamlico Sound is at least 20 nm wide, so you are out of sight of land much of the time. It was some 60nm to Manteo which meant we had to keep moving to arrive at a reasonable hour. The dock master had agreed to stick around for our arrival, so we motor sailed most of the day to arrive before dark. As we approached Old House Shoal Channel, where the water really gets shoal, the wind went dead ahead (no mention of that in the forecast) which meant we'd be motoring into the wind as we threaded our way past Oregon Inlet and followed the dredged channel up Roanoke Sound. With our luck, we arrived at Oregon Inlet as the sport fisher fleet was returning from offshore.
I've yet to figure out if most of those skippers are born clueless, or it comes with the purchase of the vessel. Not all, but most, act as though they are the only vessel in the channel with the sole purpose of getting to and from the fishing grounds as fast as possible, and the concept of slowing down when passing slower vessels is beyond their grasp. Parts of the channel in this area are shallow which makes trying to move to the side of the already shoal channel a bit hairy, and then you are left dealing with the wake. My blessing to them is "may you foul your prop". These aren't little dinghys or aluminum skiffs, but 40 feet and up, with tuna towers higher than our mast. Fortunately most of them head into Wanchese at the south end of Roanoke Island. But with our luck, most of those had passed us before we'd gotten that far, and the rest seemed to go further north with us.
As we approached the entry channel into Manteo, the Down East Rover, a schooner with tan bark sails, sailed out. She must have a shallow draft, as she crossed the channel in front of us and continued on her sunset sail across the shoals. We carefully picked our way up the channel and into the marina. We've seen folks run aground when they strayed beyond confines of the channel in the past and it sort of puts your heart in your throat as the depth gauge continues counting down single digits. When I looked at the depth gauge after we were tied up on the board walk, it was just over 5 feet. Being intent on docking the boat, Leonard hadn't looked, but trusted the dock master after telling him we drew 5 feet. We didn't touch.
After dinner we took a walk through town and along the boardwalk which has been extended since our last visit. One marina that had closed before our first visit, had reopened with nice new protected docks. What is missing is an area with enough water to anchor. The town is pleasant to tour, and very tourist friendly. It was an early night after a 10 hour day out in the sun and fresh air.
Shortly before dawn a shower got me up to close ports. With a relatively short day planned on Sunday, we'd planned on spending time in Manteo in the morning before heading out. We were glad to see the sun make an appearance after breakfast, so we dug the bikes out as the clothes came out of the dryer and went to check out the new bike path that had been added since our last visit.
Elizabethan Gardens beyond the gate
A fight scene being choreographed
We rode up to the Elizabethan Gardens and the remnants of Ft. Raleigh and stopped briefly to watch the cast rehearse at the Lost Colony, where an out door theater presents a reenactment of one of the first European settlements. The gardens looked like they would be worth a visit when we have more time to spend. I'd been hoping they were part of the national park so we could take a quick look on my senior park card, but they are a private nonprofit.
We were underway shortly after 1030, headed to an anchorage just south of Coinjock for the night. When we heard the first growls of thunder, Leonard checked the weather radar on the computer to find several strong cells headed our way. We made haste slowly, in hopes the cell that was making the most noise, would slip past us to the east. We managed to slip between the storms, and in spite of getting our foul weather gear on in hopes of avoiding rain, we had a short shower before the weather cleared for the rest of the day.
Putting out the crab pots
Since we weren't in a rush, we were able to spend much of the day under sail. Avoiding the strings of crab pots can be a bit of a challenge, but at least if we're sailing the prop isn't spinning and is less likely to catch a line. There seem to be more boats heading north with us which makes finding an anchorage or dock space a bit harder. We heard they were rafting boats at the marina to accommodate everyone. We checked out one anchorage to find it so full of crab pots as to render it useless. If we could find a spot to drop the anchor, we'd have bobbers under the boat. We finally found a place to anchor but relocated one crab pot (we could have had dinner since Leonard said it was full of crabs) to be sure we'd swing clear of it.
Anchorage south of Coinjock with crab pot bobbers
The sun setting behind a cloud bank
We're hoping for a quiet night - we're the only boat here - but have heard weather warnings on NPR for the general area, so don't know what to expect. What with the number of bobbers around us, moving in the dark would be tricky, and not a good time for a fouled prop.
We'd like to stop at Great Bridge on Monday. It's a convenient place to re-provision with one of the better grocery stores along the way. There's also a Seven Seas Cruiser's Potluck dinner in the evening, that would be fun to attend since we're officially members even though we don't have the flag to fly. Then it will be on to Chesapeake Bay. Unfortunately the weather, which has been great, has showers in the forecast most days, with the possibility of significant rain on Monday.
After a good night's sleep, we headed out into the Pamlico Sound, joining the fleet heading north. There was quite a fleet, a mix of sail and power, most carefully following the magical magenta line that depicts the ICW on their chart plotters which takes them to Belhaven. Our plans diverted from the fleet and line as we headed east toward Ocracoke. We spoke with one sail boat who was taking the Sound route around Brant Shoal and past a restricted area before heading to Belhaven. He figured that route saved about 10 nm and provided a chance to actually sail.
We could see two other boats heading east toward Ocracoke. The winds came and went most of the day from a southerly direction which made for a reasonable sail. One boat ran up a spinnaker - it was a perfect day and it would have been nice to have one too - but we made do with a poled out jib and the main tied down on the opposite side of the boat. It's much easier to sail this way when there isn't a swell and sea running to back the sails when you come off a wave wrong.
Hitch hikers on the way to Ocracoke
We should know by now that the wind blows whenever we head for the Outer Banks. It came up on the last leg before we turned into the channel to the harbor, enough so that we reefed the main as it climbed into the upper 20's. We watched as the folks with the spinnaker tried to douse it with the spinnaker sock which refused to go to the foot of the sail. It looked pretty exciting since there are numerous shoals in the area to be avoided. Another boat was sailing from the north, and we all arrived at the channel entrance at more or less the same time.
With the wind blowing, we soon had the decks well salted as we headed in. There were more boats in Silver Lake than we've seen on past trips, so we were glad to find a place on the park docks to tie up. The problem was the wind which was in the mid 20s with stronger gusts. Under these conditions it's not just a good idea, but necessary, not to dock going down wind since stopping becomes a major problem. We were doing fine until the wind caught the bow as we approached the dock, making for less than graceful docking. I simply don't have enough mass to fend the boat against that much wind. Another boater on the dock came to catch our line and helped push the bow off, but even with 2 of us it was work. No damage other than to egos.
Wild life at Ocracoke
We planned to leave in the morning and either head to Manteo on Roanoke Island or Belhaven providing the weather cooperated. I would have liked to have spent a day in port, but the Captain was showing signs of the "barn" syndrome and wanted to keep moving. Although the wind was still blowing in the morning, it wasn't as strong, and forecast to blow out of the SE at 10 - 15 and drop in the afternoon. Leonard suggested waiting until 0800 to leave so we could call for reservations in Manteo, so with reservations in hand, we headed out shortly after 0800.
There is a lot of water in that part of the Pamlico Sound, it just isn't very deep. Once we got past the numerous crab pots close to Ocracoke, there was nothing to see but water in all directions since that portion of the Pamlico Sound is at least 20 nm wide, so you are out of sight of land much of the time. It was some 60nm to Manteo which meant we had to keep moving to arrive at a reasonable hour. The dock master had agreed to stick around for our arrival, so we motor sailed most of the day to arrive before dark. As we approached Old House Shoal Channel, where the water really gets shoal, the wind went dead ahead (no mention of that in the forecast) which meant we'd be motoring into the wind as we threaded our way past Oregon Inlet and followed the dredged channel up Roanoke Sound. With our luck, we arrived at Oregon Inlet as the sport fisher fleet was returning from offshore.
I've yet to figure out if most of those skippers are born clueless, or it comes with the purchase of the vessel. Not all, but most, act as though they are the only vessel in the channel with the sole purpose of getting to and from the fishing grounds as fast as possible, and the concept of slowing down when passing slower vessels is beyond their grasp. Parts of the channel in this area are shallow which makes trying to move to the side of the already shoal channel a bit hairy, and then you are left dealing with the wake. My blessing to them is "may you foul your prop". These aren't little dinghys or aluminum skiffs, but 40 feet and up, with tuna towers higher than our mast. Fortunately most of them head into Wanchese at the south end of Roanoke Island. But with our luck, most of those had passed us before we'd gotten that far, and the rest seemed to go further north with us.
As we approached the entry channel into Manteo, the Down East Rover, a schooner with tan bark sails, sailed out. She must have a shallow draft, as she crossed the channel in front of us and continued on her sunset sail across the shoals. We carefully picked our way up the channel and into the marina. We've seen folks run aground when they strayed beyond confines of the channel in the past and it sort of puts your heart in your throat as the depth gauge continues counting down single digits. When I looked at the depth gauge after we were tied up on the board walk, it was just over 5 feet. Being intent on docking the boat, Leonard hadn't looked, but trusted the dock master after telling him we drew 5 feet. We didn't touch.
After dinner we took a walk through town and along the boardwalk which has been extended since our last visit. One marina that had closed before our first visit, had reopened with nice new protected docks. What is missing is an area with enough water to anchor. The town is pleasant to tour, and very tourist friendly. It was an early night after a 10 hour day out in the sun and fresh air.
Shortly before dawn a shower got me up to close ports. With a relatively short day planned on Sunday, we'd planned on spending time in Manteo in the morning before heading out. We were glad to see the sun make an appearance after breakfast, so we dug the bikes out as the clothes came out of the dryer and went to check out the new bike path that had been added since our last visit.
Elizabethan Gardens beyond the gate
A fight scene being choreographed
We rode up to the Elizabethan Gardens and the remnants of Ft. Raleigh and stopped briefly to watch the cast rehearse at the Lost Colony, where an out door theater presents a reenactment of one of the first European settlements. The gardens looked like they would be worth a visit when we have more time to spend. I'd been hoping they were part of the national park so we could take a quick look on my senior park card, but they are a private nonprofit.
We were underway shortly after 1030, headed to an anchorage just south of Coinjock for the night. When we heard the first growls of thunder, Leonard checked the weather radar on the computer to find several strong cells headed our way. We made haste slowly, in hopes the cell that was making the most noise, would slip past us to the east. We managed to slip between the storms, and in spite of getting our foul weather gear on in hopes of avoiding rain, we had a short shower before the weather cleared for the rest of the day.
Putting out the crab pots
Since we weren't in a rush, we were able to spend much of the day under sail. Avoiding the strings of crab pots can be a bit of a challenge, but at least if we're sailing the prop isn't spinning and is less likely to catch a line. There seem to be more boats heading north with us which makes finding an anchorage or dock space a bit harder. We heard they were rafting boats at the marina to accommodate everyone. We checked out one anchorage to find it so full of crab pots as to render it useless. If we could find a spot to drop the anchor, we'd have bobbers under the boat. We finally found a place to anchor but relocated one crab pot (we could have had dinner since Leonard said it was full of crabs) to be sure we'd swing clear of it.
Anchorage south of Coinjock with crab pot bobbers
The sun setting behind a cloud bank
We're hoping for a quiet night - we're the only boat here - but have heard weather warnings on NPR for the general area, so don't know what to expect. What with the number of bobbers around us, moving in the dark would be tricky, and not a good time for a fouled prop.
We'd like to stop at Great Bridge on Monday. It's a convenient place to re-provision with one of the better grocery stores along the way. There's also a Seven Seas Cruiser's Potluck dinner in the evening, that would be fun to attend since we're officially members even though we don't have the flag to fly. Then it will be on to Chesapeake Bay. Unfortunately the weather, which has been great, has showers in the forecast most days, with the possibility of significant rain on Monday.
Sent Monday 5/17/2010 from Great Bridge
Lock in Chesapeake, VA
Thankfully our night among the crab pots was peaceful. Whatever storm cells that had been reported missed us, and morning found us with the various bobbers around us in the same position. With only one bobber to avoid before heading to the channel it was an easy start. Seems the anchor had also gotten a good hold on the "sticky" (the description on the chart) bottom as the bow went down before the anchor released. Looking at other possible anchorage areas along the way, Leonard commented that it might be possible to anchor by hauling and moving enough pots to clear a spot.
We wanted an early start to beat the expected rain (every segment of the forecast has rain, up to 3/4" possible for each segment) and to arrive at the free docks at Great Bridge early enough in the day to find a spot. We passed through Coinjock about the time we normally would depart when at the marina, and it looked like many of the boats that had spent the night at the marinas had already departed. This segment is tricky to time right, there is the more or less open water of Currituck Sound that can be docile or nasty depending on the winds, and several restricted bridges that require good timing if you don't want to spend time waiting for the next opening.
Once we reached Currituck Sound, we unrolled the jib and had enough wind (occasionally more than we wanted) to sail. It's tricky to stay in the dredged channel which can be made more difficult when depending on the wind to come from a constant direction at a reasonable speed. But we made better time under sail than we could by motoring and managed to not stray out of the channel. The depths out of the channel are under 6 feet with 2 and 3 feet common. We played tag with a sail boat that had anchored a mile or two south of us and approached as we hauled the anchor. It was bigger, so tended to be a bit faster with the longer water line and more sail area, and finally passed us on the sound. When the wind went light, Leonard decided to motor sail, so we slid back in front. It makes things more interesting when you pass or get passed, since you both need to move toward the sides of the channel.
The distance between North Landing and Centerville Turnpike bridges is awkward, too long to do in 30 minutes, and too short to travel at our normal speed and arrive in time for an opening. As we waited for the North Landing bridge to open, we were given an impressive display of military might as fighters made numerous close passes overhead. They must have stopped for lunch or briefings as after 20 or so minutes they disappeared.
Cypress Trees
In spite of the gray, dreary day, it was a beautiful area with marsh
grasses, cypress and pine forest and swampy areas. For most of
the
hour we puttered slowly toward the Centerville bridge we were treated
to the varied songs of birds along the way, far more enjoyable than the
scream of fighters. Most day markers hosted resident ospreys,
with the
top of the brooding parent showing above the nest, usually uttering a
series of chirps as we passed. We also saw a couple of eagles and
herons, but no turtles basking on the downed trees. Shortly after
clearing the Centerville Turnpike bridge, the jets returned, breaking
the magical spell we'd enjoyed. We both decided that sound would
get
irritating if present for hours on end.
Fighter overhead
Eagle
It had been drizzling off and on during the morning, but as we approached Great Bridge, it came down harder. We cleared the bridge hoping to find a spot along the southwest side of the channel (the official free dock). The 2 sail boats that came through with us had the same idea, and fortunately there was room for all of us. Other folks, already tied up, came out in the rain to take lines from us as we pulled in between 2 other boats. I decided re-provisioning could wait until the rain let up and was glad I'd done the laundry at Manteo so I wouldn't need to do that chore in the rain. It was a great afternoon to sit and read listening to the mocking birds sitting in the trees nearby. Wakes aren't a problem since we're between the bridge and lock in an enforced no wake zone.
Leonard checked our e-mail notice regarding the potluck, but we think it's canceled due to the weather. We suspect it would have been held at the picnic tables here, but with no cover from the rain, wouldn't be much fun. None of the boats here are flying flags (we hadn't received ours before we left home in February), and we haven't been out in the rain to chat.
Sometime tomorrow we'll head to the Chesapeake. Given the weather forecast, any idea of heading offshore at Norfolk won't happen. Along with rain and possible thunder storms, the winds will be out of the N or NE, making the Chesapeake a more appealing, if longer, prospect. Hopefully the high pressure west of us will slip this way, giving us decent weather to do Delaware Bay and the New Jersey shore.
Thankfully our night among the crab pots was peaceful. Whatever storm cells that had been reported missed us, and morning found us with the various bobbers around us in the same position. With only one bobber to avoid before heading to the channel it was an easy start. Seems the anchor had also gotten a good hold on the "sticky" (the description on the chart) bottom as the bow went down before the anchor released. Looking at other possible anchorage areas along the way, Leonard commented that it might be possible to anchor by hauling and moving enough pots to clear a spot.
We wanted an early start to beat the expected rain (every segment of the forecast has rain, up to 3/4" possible for each segment) and to arrive at the free docks at Great Bridge early enough in the day to find a spot. We passed through Coinjock about the time we normally would depart when at the marina, and it looked like many of the boats that had spent the night at the marinas had already departed. This segment is tricky to time right, there is the more or less open water of Currituck Sound that can be docile or nasty depending on the winds, and several restricted bridges that require good timing if you don't want to spend time waiting for the next opening.
Once we reached Currituck Sound, we unrolled the jib and had enough wind (occasionally more than we wanted) to sail. It's tricky to stay in the dredged channel which can be made more difficult when depending on the wind to come from a constant direction at a reasonable speed. But we made better time under sail than we could by motoring and managed to not stray out of the channel. The depths out of the channel are under 6 feet with 2 and 3 feet common. We played tag with a sail boat that had anchored a mile or two south of us and approached as we hauled the anchor. It was bigger, so tended to be a bit faster with the longer water line and more sail area, and finally passed us on the sound. When the wind went light, Leonard decided to motor sail, so we slid back in front. It makes things more interesting when you pass or get passed, since you both need to move toward the sides of the channel.
The distance between North Landing and Centerville Turnpike bridges is awkward, too long to do in 30 minutes, and too short to travel at our normal speed and arrive in time for an opening. As we waited for the North Landing bridge to open, we were given an impressive display of military might as fighters made numerous close passes overhead. They must have stopped for lunch or briefings as after 20 or so minutes they disappeared.
Cypress Trees
Fighter overhead
Eagle
It had been drizzling off and on during the morning, but as we approached Great Bridge, it came down harder. We cleared the bridge hoping to find a spot along the southwest side of the channel (the official free dock). The 2 sail boats that came through with us had the same idea, and fortunately there was room for all of us. Other folks, already tied up, came out in the rain to take lines from us as we pulled in between 2 other boats. I decided re-provisioning could wait until the rain let up and was glad I'd done the laundry at Manteo so I wouldn't need to do that chore in the rain. It was a great afternoon to sit and read listening to the mocking birds sitting in the trees nearby. Wakes aren't a problem since we're between the bridge and lock in an enforced no wake zone.
Leonard checked our e-mail notice regarding the potluck, but we think it's canceled due to the weather. We suspect it would have been held at the picnic tables here, but with no cover from the rain, wouldn't be much fun. None of the boats here are flying flags (we hadn't received ours before we left home in February), and we haven't been out in the rain to chat.
Sometime tomorrow we'll head to the Chesapeake. Given the weather forecast, any idea of heading offshore at Norfolk won't happen. Along with rain and possible thunder storms, the winds will be out of the N or NE, making the Chesapeake a more appealing, if longer, prospect. Hopefully the high pressure west of us will slip this way, giving us decent weather to do Delaware Bay and the New Jersey shore.
Sent 5/24/2010 from the Hudson River by Wappingers Falls,
NY
The only brief break in the rain at Great Bridge was after dark, so re-provisioning waited until morning. It rained hard most of the night, but no thunderstorms and not much in the way of wind. After breakfast, since it wasn't raining, we headed off to the store. I'd suggested umbrellas along with our rain jackets, but Leonard said he didn't think it was necessary. Boy was he wrong! Just as I finished up shopping, we glanced outside and it was coming down in buckets, with the parking lot awash in puddles. Seeing this, we decided we should spend more time looking for things we might possibly want before heading back to the boat. Eventually the rain slowed enough for us to start back without getting totally soaked.
With the next lock opening in 15 minutes, I quickly stowed everything and we worked at getting the dock lines free so we could be the first boat to slide into the lock. Two other sailboats that had spent the night at Great Bridge joined us as well as two power boats that had just cleared the bridge. Both sail boats were single handers, and it was interesting to watch them get tied up at the lock wall. One had gone to the side with the "rubber" wall and dual cleats where there is no assistance, and he had to work at getting positioned. The lock tenders take dock lines on the wall that's cement and steel, and loop them around bollards, returning the bitter end of the line to you. The lock is a bit of a joke, especially in the spring and summer when the water levels are almost the same. It was about a 6" lift, hardly a hiccup compared to the locks on the Erie. However, it does provide jobs, and the drop or rise is closer to a foot in the winter.
Once out of the lock it was on to the next bridge that only opened on the hour a short distance away. One power boat peeled out only to find he didn't quite fit under the closed bridge, and had to wait for the opening with the rest of us. We all went through the Gilmerton Bridge together too, even though it's supposedly on demand after rush hour closings. There was a tug and barge headed south, so we waited until he cleared the bridge before heading through. The 3rd sailboat almost didn't make the opening, the bridge tender called hm on the radio and told him to step on it, or miss the opening.
There are 3 railway bridges in this portion of the ICW heading into Norfolk. Usually they are open, and only close when a train is coming. We heard the first one by the Gilmerton bridge was closed, and due to open soon, which it was by the time we arrived. We heard no notice about the next two, both of which were closed when we arrived. We waited patiently while a freight train crossed at walking speed, and then waited more until the bridge went up. We waited even longer at the next bridge as 2 trains crossed before it opened.
These bridges have about a 6' clearance, so literally nothing much bigger than a kayak fits under them. Wednesday afternoon, as we were headed up the bay, we heard the last bridge had closed for a train, sometime after we passed, and was unable to re-open. Losing 45 minutes is a lot better than some unspecified amount of time until they can make repairs. Looks like we'll see a break in the string of boats headed north for a few days. Folks were talking about friends remaining at Great Bridge until repairs are done as there are few places to stay or anchor between there and the bridge.
The rain finally stopped as we approached Norfolk, and with conditions improving, we planned to head for Mobjack Bay for the night. There was plenty of big ship traffic both in and out of Hampton Roads to keep us on our toes. We even had sail up and things were looking good until we made the slight turn to the north off Salt Pond. We'd had just enough protection from shore up to that point that we weren't aware of the north wind and 2 - 3 ft seas, dead on the nose, on the bay. Our freshly rain washed decks got salty fast, and our speed, which had been 5.5 kts, dropped to 2 kts. We did a quick reassessment and turned back to the Back River, the closest anchorage. The entrance looked a bit tricky on the chart, several channels separated by shoals, with buoys on the middle one. It was easier than it looked, and we were glad to be off the bay and out of the wind and waves for the night.
The wind and waves died back during the night, so we were up and underway bright and early. We even sailed for a couple of hours before our course took us dead to windward. With much lighter winds than the day before, it was smooth sailing and motoring as we headed north, joining the flock of other snowbirds. We watched the menhaden fleet on the bay, reason enough to bypass Reedville where the fish are processed. It sounds like an interesting place to visit, a fishing museum and a few other points of interest, but the books all talk about the smell. We've anchored in Mill Creek (several miles south of Reedville) in the past, but hoped to make it to the Potomac to check out an anchorage at one of creeks on the northern shore.
Osprey at Smith Creek
The anchorage at Smith Creek was special. We shared it with a family if osprey, parents and 2 young fledglings. It was a short way up the Potomac, so I served dinner while we were underway rather than wait until we were anchored. The creek had several interesting coves, one of which had a boat already in it, so we opted for another one. It was almost completely protected, and would have been great in stormy weather, but the evening was peaceful. We watched the osprey parents keep an eye on their young, who had more problems landing in the tree by the nest. A great end to a long day, we'd run 13 hours and 70 some miles. Our luck with good sailing winds seems to have petered out as we get further north, but with the winds light, it makes for easy motoring, and the sails occasionally give a bit of a boost to our speed.
A calm night at Smith Creek
I groused about our early starts, so it was 0700 before we
departed.
Somehow we seem to be a week off in regard to current flow, with the
ebb heading south during most of the daylight hours, and only minimal
flow in the direction we're heading late in the afternoon. We
wanted
to stop in Solomons to pump out the holding tank and take on fuel, both
conveniently located for easy access. This diversion took a
couple of
hours and it was 1300 before we were heading back out to the bay which
made arrival times for the anchorages just south of Annapolis well past
dark, obviously an earlier start would have helped. We looked
through
the cruising guides and headed for Hudson Creek, an anchorage in the
Little Choptank on the eastern shore. A lot of the anchorages,
especially on the eastern shore, skirt large shoal areas and take time
to reach. We're getting braver about cutting corners over the
lessor
shoals, but still hesitate to cut across 7 and 8 foot areas. Any
time
we might save could be easily lost if we run aground. Also, the
shallow water tends to be filled with crab pots which require a sharp
eye to avoid.
More of Smith Creek
We reached Hudson Creek about 1800 and found 2 other cruisers already in the recommended anchorage at the mouth of the creek. With plenty of room, joining them wasn't a problem. The next creek to the east had a raft of local boats anchored for the night. The anchorage offered protection behind a curved spit of land with a fringe of trees on it. There is a difference between the anchorages on the western and eastern shores. The bay is shallower to the east, and the surrounding land is, for the most part, lower, so the anchorages there tend to be a bit more open than on the western shore where the nooks and crannies have a bit more water and allow you to tuck in closer to shore. Both offer beautiful scenery, and part of the charm of the bay is picking and choosing between them. In the early morning, watermen are busy on both shores, tending pots, dredging and fishing in an interesting array of vessels.
The Hudson Creek anchorage
Local waterman off to work
After carefully studying the weather and current for Friday, Leonard
decided the earlier we departed, the better. We might have some
positive current flow most of the day as we headed north. I
suspect
the "barn syndrome" may play into this too, as we were underway by
0500, hoping to reach Chesapeake City on the C&D Canal. We
fought
a bit of current as we made our way out the Little Choptank River, and
around the numerous shoals at the mouth. But we did pick up a
northerly flow as we headed up the bay which was a welcome change from
recent days. We'd raised the main to help us along when the wind
chose
to lend a hand, and even had the jib out a number of times, only to
have the wind die and the jib back with our forward motion.
About the time we reached the Bay Bridge, after looking at the various weather information we'd gathered, Leonard suggested we just keep going, through the C&D, down the Delaware and head up the Jersey shore. The weather, which featured light winds for the most part, was gradually shifting due to an upper level disturbance due to pass north of the area sometime on Sunday. This would bring NE winds with it, and make the Jersey shore portion of the trip miserable once they arrived. Leonard figured we'd reach Atlantic City around noon and could stop and take on fuel since it would be mostly motoring. If the weather had deteriorated by then, we could also anchor and wait it out. Having done that once, it's not the greatest anchorage, although you get entertained watching the changing lights on the casinos. If conditions were good, we continue on to NYC and tuck in behind Sandy Hook to wait for daylight before entering the harbor. Not even Leonard wanted to run that in the dark!
I wasn't happy about running the Delaware Bay at night since it usually tends to have a number big ships and tugs and tows. Having started the day at 0500 didn't help either, since we'd both be tired, especially by the time we reached the end of Cape May and either go through the canal or tuck through the channel that skirts the shore. Any complications like fog or adverse winds would add to the stress level, however tempting it might be to have this less than favorite segment behind us.
Through the C&D Canal at the St Georges Bridges
We settled on heading for the anchorage at Reedy Island. With light south winds the conditions there would be fine. The current pushed us almost to Chesapeake City where it petered out and began running the other way. We ate dinner as we went through the canal, and watched the sun set before we reached the end of the canal. With another 4 nm before we reached the entrance in the jetty at Reedy Island, we were hoping we'd have enough light to see where we'd drop the anchor. Gotta love these longer days, we had just enough twilight to see a couple of bobbers and avoid them as we dropped the anchor, minutes before 2100. Several other boats were in the anchorage area, but quite a bit further north of us. With relatively calm conditions, it was a peaceful night.
Reedy Island in the morning
A check of the current times on the bay for the morning indicated an early start would have us fighting a strong current. We planned on leaving around 0700, just before slack water, but were wide awake before 0600, and hearing the wind generator singing, decided it might be easier to fight current than the waves that would build with the south wind. The first couple of hours weren't bad, the wind and waves hadn't built up and the wind wasn't opposing the current. Things changed when the current switched, the wind got a bit stronger and had us going up and down into the seas, but the SOG indicated our speed increasing. The wind actually died back a bit, so the conditions were as good as we could hope for with 1 - 2 foot waves.
Delaware Bay fisherman and Ship John Shoal Light
A dredge was working by the ferry dock inside the western entrance of the canal, which made it a bit interesting to get past. Since it was a Saturday, the fishing fleet was out in force, most hell bent to get to the fishing grounds or back to port. A trawler followed us as we entered the canal, and he wasn't any happier than I was with the wakes most were leaving behind. We heard him several time admonishing the skippers that wakes that size weren't necessary. We got caught by a couple of wakes as we passed under the first 55 ft bridge, and I heard the antenna at the top of the mast hit the bridge with a bang. Luckily it didn't break, but just whipped back and forth for a bit. With the tide up and still coming in, the second bridge had even less clearance, so we were careful to avoid fishermen and their wakes as we went under. I could hear the antenna ticking on the underside of the bridge. Sure glad it wasn't an "astronomically high tide"! Passing through the RR bridge was also interesting. It's extremely narrow, room for one boat at a time, and the current was really ripping through it, it felt like we were crawling.
We stopped at Utsches Marina for fuel. They have a fairly narrow entrance, and as we approached, Leonard saw a boat heading out, which he avoided by standing off at the entrance. We've had a number of less than graceful dockings here over the years. On the first trip north in Antares, when we left the dock the boat didn't shift out of reverse (a bad habit it has when it's not warm) which caused a bit of a Chinese fire drill thanks to current and little maneuvering room. This time the current was much stronger than anticipated since the fuel dock is well inside and the one side of the slip is protected by land. Between the current and the wind, it was a bit of a challenge before we managed to get into the slip. Docking was also hindered by a fishing boat behind us, trying to get out, he had to do some quick backing too. We didn't feel so bad as we watched the local parasailing tow boat try to get into their slip, he backed and filled as much as we had, and he had a larger crew, more maneuverability and was a local.
With a full tank of fuel on board, we headed out the eastern end of the harbor, bound for the Big Apple.
Lynnea
The only brief break in the rain at Great Bridge was after dark, so re-provisioning waited until morning. It rained hard most of the night, but no thunderstorms and not much in the way of wind. After breakfast, since it wasn't raining, we headed off to the store. I'd suggested umbrellas along with our rain jackets, but Leonard said he didn't think it was necessary. Boy was he wrong! Just as I finished up shopping, we glanced outside and it was coming down in buckets, with the parking lot awash in puddles. Seeing this, we decided we should spend more time looking for things we might possibly want before heading back to the boat. Eventually the rain slowed enough for us to start back without getting totally soaked.
With the next lock opening in 15 minutes, I quickly stowed everything and we worked at getting the dock lines free so we could be the first boat to slide into the lock. Two other sailboats that had spent the night at Great Bridge joined us as well as two power boats that had just cleared the bridge. Both sail boats were single handers, and it was interesting to watch them get tied up at the lock wall. One had gone to the side with the "rubber" wall and dual cleats where there is no assistance, and he had to work at getting positioned. The lock tenders take dock lines on the wall that's cement and steel, and loop them around bollards, returning the bitter end of the line to you. The lock is a bit of a joke, especially in the spring and summer when the water levels are almost the same. It was about a 6" lift, hardly a hiccup compared to the locks on the Erie. However, it does provide jobs, and the drop or rise is closer to a foot in the winter.
Once out of the lock it was on to the next bridge that only opened on the hour a short distance away. One power boat peeled out only to find he didn't quite fit under the closed bridge, and had to wait for the opening with the rest of us. We all went through the Gilmerton Bridge together too, even though it's supposedly on demand after rush hour closings. There was a tug and barge headed south, so we waited until he cleared the bridge before heading through. The 3rd sailboat almost didn't make the opening, the bridge tender called hm on the radio and told him to step on it, or miss the opening.
There are 3 railway bridges in this portion of the ICW heading into Norfolk. Usually they are open, and only close when a train is coming. We heard the first one by the Gilmerton bridge was closed, and due to open soon, which it was by the time we arrived. We heard no notice about the next two, both of which were closed when we arrived. We waited patiently while a freight train crossed at walking speed, and then waited more until the bridge went up. We waited even longer at the next bridge as 2 trains crossed before it opened.
These bridges have about a 6' clearance, so literally nothing much bigger than a kayak fits under them. Wednesday afternoon, as we were headed up the bay, we heard the last bridge had closed for a train, sometime after we passed, and was unable to re-open. Losing 45 minutes is a lot better than some unspecified amount of time until they can make repairs. Looks like we'll see a break in the string of boats headed north for a few days. Folks were talking about friends remaining at Great Bridge until repairs are done as there are few places to stay or anchor between there and the bridge.
The rain finally stopped as we approached Norfolk, and with conditions improving, we planned to head for Mobjack Bay for the night. There was plenty of big ship traffic both in and out of Hampton Roads to keep us on our toes. We even had sail up and things were looking good until we made the slight turn to the north off Salt Pond. We'd had just enough protection from shore up to that point that we weren't aware of the north wind and 2 - 3 ft seas, dead on the nose, on the bay. Our freshly rain washed decks got salty fast, and our speed, which had been 5.5 kts, dropped to 2 kts. We did a quick reassessment and turned back to the Back River, the closest anchorage. The entrance looked a bit tricky on the chart, several channels separated by shoals, with buoys on the middle one. It was easier than it looked, and we were glad to be off the bay and out of the wind and waves for the night.
The wind and waves died back during the night, so we were up and underway bright and early. We even sailed for a couple of hours before our course took us dead to windward. With much lighter winds than the day before, it was smooth sailing and motoring as we headed north, joining the flock of other snowbirds. We watched the menhaden fleet on the bay, reason enough to bypass Reedville where the fish are processed. It sounds like an interesting place to visit, a fishing museum and a few other points of interest, but the books all talk about the smell. We've anchored in Mill Creek (several miles south of Reedville) in the past, but hoped to make it to the Potomac to check out an anchorage at one of creeks on the northern shore.
Osprey at Smith Creek
The anchorage at Smith Creek was special. We shared it with a family if osprey, parents and 2 young fledglings. It was a short way up the Potomac, so I served dinner while we were underway rather than wait until we were anchored. The creek had several interesting coves, one of which had a boat already in it, so we opted for another one. It was almost completely protected, and would have been great in stormy weather, but the evening was peaceful. We watched the osprey parents keep an eye on their young, who had more problems landing in the tree by the nest. A great end to a long day, we'd run 13 hours and 70 some miles. Our luck with good sailing winds seems to have petered out as we get further north, but with the winds light, it makes for easy motoring, and the sails occasionally give a bit of a boost to our speed.
A calm night at Smith Creek
More of Smith Creek
We reached Hudson Creek about 1800 and found 2 other cruisers already in the recommended anchorage at the mouth of the creek. With plenty of room, joining them wasn't a problem. The next creek to the east had a raft of local boats anchored for the night. The anchorage offered protection behind a curved spit of land with a fringe of trees on it. There is a difference between the anchorages on the western and eastern shores. The bay is shallower to the east, and the surrounding land is, for the most part, lower, so the anchorages there tend to be a bit more open than on the western shore where the nooks and crannies have a bit more water and allow you to tuck in closer to shore. Both offer beautiful scenery, and part of the charm of the bay is picking and choosing between them. In the early morning, watermen are busy on both shores, tending pots, dredging and fishing in an interesting array of vessels.
The Hudson Creek anchorage
Local waterman off to work
About the time we reached the Bay Bridge, after looking at the various weather information we'd gathered, Leonard suggested we just keep going, through the C&D, down the Delaware and head up the Jersey shore. The weather, which featured light winds for the most part, was gradually shifting due to an upper level disturbance due to pass north of the area sometime on Sunday. This would bring NE winds with it, and make the Jersey shore portion of the trip miserable once they arrived. Leonard figured we'd reach Atlantic City around noon and could stop and take on fuel since it would be mostly motoring. If the weather had deteriorated by then, we could also anchor and wait it out. Having done that once, it's not the greatest anchorage, although you get entertained watching the changing lights on the casinos. If conditions were good, we continue on to NYC and tuck in behind Sandy Hook to wait for daylight before entering the harbor. Not even Leonard wanted to run that in the dark!
I wasn't happy about running the Delaware Bay at night since it usually tends to have a number big ships and tugs and tows. Having started the day at 0500 didn't help either, since we'd both be tired, especially by the time we reached the end of Cape May and either go through the canal or tuck through the channel that skirts the shore. Any complications like fog or adverse winds would add to the stress level, however tempting it might be to have this less than favorite segment behind us.
Through the C&D Canal at the St Georges Bridges
We settled on heading for the anchorage at Reedy Island. With light south winds the conditions there would be fine. The current pushed us almost to Chesapeake City where it petered out and began running the other way. We ate dinner as we went through the canal, and watched the sun set before we reached the end of the canal. With another 4 nm before we reached the entrance in the jetty at Reedy Island, we were hoping we'd have enough light to see where we'd drop the anchor. Gotta love these longer days, we had just enough twilight to see a couple of bobbers and avoid them as we dropped the anchor, minutes before 2100. Several other boats were in the anchorage area, but quite a bit further north of us. With relatively calm conditions, it was a peaceful night.
Reedy Island in the morning
A check of the current times on the bay for the morning indicated an early start would have us fighting a strong current. We planned on leaving around 0700, just before slack water, but were wide awake before 0600, and hearing the wind generator singing, decided it might be easier to fight current than the waves that would build with the south wind. The first couple of hours weren't bad, the wind and waves hadn't built up and the wind wasn't opposing the current. Things changed when the current switched, the wind got a bit stronger and had us going up and down into the seas, but the SOG indicated our speed increasing. The wind actually died back a bit, so the conditions were as good as we could hope for with 1 - 2 foot waves.
Delaware Bay fisherman and Ship John Shoal Light
A dredge was working by the ferry dock inside the western entrance of the canal, which made it a bit interesting to get past. Since it was a Saturday, the fishing fleet was out in force, most hell bent to get to the fishing grounds or back to port. A trawler followed us as we entered the canal, and he wasn't any happier than I was with the wakes most were leaving behind. We heard him several time admonishing the skippers that wakes that size weren't necessary. We got caught by a couple of wakes as we passed under the first 55 ft bridge, and I heard the antenna at the top of the mast hit the bridge with a bang. Luckily it didn't break, but just whipped back and forth for a bit. With the tide up and still coming in, the second bridge had even less clearance, so we were careful to avoid fishermen and their wakes as we went under. I could hear the antenna ticking on the underside of the bridge. Sure glad it wasn't an "astronomically high tide"! Passing through the RR bridge was also interesting. It's extremely narrow, room for one boat at a time, and the current was really ripping through it, it felt like we were crawling.
We stopped at Utsches Marina for fuel. They have a fairly narrow entrance, and as we approached, Leonard saw a boat heading out, which he avoided by standing off at the entrance. We've had a number of less than graceful dockings here over the years. On the first trip north in Antares, when we left the dock the boat didn't shift out of reverse (a bad habit it has when it's not warm) which caused a bit of a Chinese fire drill thanks to current and little maneuvering room. This time the current was much stronger than anticipated since the fuel dock is well inside and the one side of the slip is protected by land. Between the current and the wind, it was a bit of a challenge before we managed to get into the slip. Docking was also hindered by a fishing boat behind us, trying to get out, he had to do some quick backing too. We didn't feel so bad as we watched the local parasailing tow boat try to get into their slip, he backed and filled as much as we had, and he had a larger crew, more maneuverability and was a local.
With a full tank of fuel on board, we headed out the eastern end of the harbor, bound for the Big Apple.
Lynnea
Hi,
It was almost 1600 by the time we cleared the eastern breakwater at Cape May. The current really tried to get us to stay, flowing at a couple of knots against us, and stronger right at the entrance. With an upper level disturbance approaching the coast, we wanted to slip north before the NE winds arrived. The forecast for Saturday night was east winds of 10 - 15 kts, a reach, if the forecast was correct. After a brief spell of winds more from the north than we wanted, the wind settled down to a nice easterly breeze of 12 - 15 kts. There was an easterly swell running, but the period between the swells was longer than we'd had on other offshore segments on the trip, and wasn't a problem. With full sail, we were heading for the Big Apple.
The carnival rides at Wildwood were running, providing us with entertainment as we sailed past. We watched the bungee jumping ride, a cord suspended between 2 high towers. The passenger was in a small capsule, and would fly way up beyond the towers for the first couple of bounces. It would have been down right scary if they'd only been in a harness! It appeared to be a very popular ride. The roller coasters and Ferris wheel were busy too. We passed Atlantic City around 2100, and I watched the light display on the one casino as we passed by. Another sail boat had been out with us, but tucked into the harbor there. It looked like we'd have rain most of the night, but once I got the connector up between the dodger and the bimini, it cleared up, and at the third quarter phase, the moon shed enough light to help visibility. There were a number of tugs and barges, but they were easy to spot and not a problem.
Somehow, on this offshore jump, I managed to switch watches with Leonard, and am I glad I did! For once there was no Dreaded Blue Arrow of Death on the chart plotter, and other than having to dodge a buoy on our track, my first watch was a breeze. I was tired and ready to go below around 0100 to crawl into the bunk. When I came back out at 0230, Leonard sent me back below. He was wide awake and had enough adrenaline flowing to keep him going for a while. He'd watched a coastal freighter on the radar that had been inside of us, cross in front of us, turn to pass us on starboard and THEN turn at us and approach our starboard side. Granted, it wasn't as big as a container ship, but compared to us, it was huge. He hailed the captain on the VHF and was told to go to channel 10, the channel the pilots use, but English was obviously a second language, and with a strong accent he wasn't all that clear. Somehow he mistook us for a pilot boat, and wanted us to come alongside his port side for a pilot pickup.
At this point Leonard dove below and turned on our remaining navigation lights and fore deck light to shine on the jib (we were sailing, and had been running only the masthead tricolor as required by law) to make it obvious that we were a sail boat, not a pilot boat. He said he was so busy trying to avoid the ship, that he gave up trying to talk to him on the radio. To add to the confusion, he also managed to trigger the Dreaded Blue Arrow of Death while trying get the chart plotter radar to track the big ship as it approached since it's navigation lights were lost in all the other lights on board (it can be difficult to pick out the navigation lights on the big ships since they also have a number of white deck lights). He managed to get everything under control and avoid the freighter while I remained blissfully ignorant below. I was glad it was his watch, as I'd have been screaming. He admitted he was close to screaming too.
Approximate size of ship that tried to approach us
What's really interesting about this tale is that it took place of Brigatine Inlet. We don't go in there because there isn't enough water for us unless we were to go directly to a marina. There was no way a freighter would have enough water to float! Shortly after he had things under control, Leonard heard the captain call for the Sandy Hook pilot boat. He bit his tongue and didn't tell the guy that he was too far away from Sandy Hook to be heard. All we can figure is he no idea where he was, saw our dark hull with white decks and assumed we were the pilot boat he expected. Maybe he should have looked closer at his GPS position!
Sunrise off the New Jersey coast
Other than that incident, it was a great night. We had fantastic sailing conditions, and only used the engine for 4 hours, including the time it took to get out of Cape May before reaching the Verrazano Bridge. There had been a couple of short lulls in the wind, but for the most part, we flew along between 6 and 7 kts in comfortable sea conditions. Just after sunrise, the wind went to the NE and we motor sailed for the rest of my watch. With another 25 miles to go offshore, we were grateful the wind didn't stay on our nose and build, as that would have made for a much longer and harder trip. I dealt with a bit of fog and drizzle that made for somewhat limited visibility, making it harder to spot all the local fishermen who were out early Sunday morning. When Leonard came on watch the wind was back and a bit stronger, so we reefed the main and ran out the jib again and sailed almost to the Verrazano Bridge where we ran into a wind hole. It was the most sailing we'd ever had along the Jersey shore, had we known, we wouldn't have had to stop for fuel in Cape May.
Verrazano Bridge and old fort on Staten Island
Lower Mahatten
Other than fighting a persistent current, and a plethora of fishing
boats in the lower bay our trip through New York harbor was uneventful.
Along with the normal big ships anchored or under way, there were about
a dozen J24s playing in the upper harbor and the Hudson, numerous Lady
of Liberty boats filled with passengers visiting Ellis Island and the
Statue of Liberty, 2 schooners, the usual number of Staten Island
ferries and Circle Line boats plying the waters. It was a Sunday
afternoon, and although the sun wasn't shining, it was pleasant and
folks were taking advantage of the spring weather.
Statue of Liberty with a crowd of people
With the current finally running with us, we headed for the anchorage by Nyack, just north of the Tappan Zee Bridge, for the night. We had the anchor down by 1830, and had gone 218 nm since leaving Reedy Island Saturday morning. Needless to say, we were looking forward to an uninterrupted night's sleep, and glad to have this part of the trip behind us.
It was almost 1600 by the time we cleared the eastern breakwater at Cape May. The current really tried to get us to stay, flowing at a couple of knots against us, and stronger right at the entrance. With an upper level disturbance approaching the coast, we wanted to slip north before the NE winds arrived. The forecast for Saturday night was east winds of 10 - 15 kts, a reach, if the forecast was correct. After a brief spell of winds more from the north than we wanted, the wind settled down to a nice easterly breeze of 12 - 15 kts. There was an easterly swell running, but the period between the swells was longer than we'd had on other offshore segments on the trip, and wasn't a problem. With full sail, we were heading for the Big Apple.
The carnival rides at Wildwood were running, providing us with entertainment as we sailed past. We watched the bungee jumping ride, a cord suspended between 2 high towers. The passenger was in a small capsule, and would fly way up beyond the towers for the first couple of bounces. It would have been down right scary if they'd only been in a harness! It appeared to be a very popular ride. The roller coasters and Ferris wheel were busy too. We passed Atlantic City around 2100, and I watched the light display on the one casino as we passed by. Another sail boat had been out with us, but tucked into the harbor there. It looked like we'd have rain most of the night, but once I got the connector up between the dodger and the bimini, it cleared up, and at the third quarter phase, the moon shed enough light to help visibility. There were a number of tugs and barges, but they were easy to spot and not a problem.
Somehow, on this offshore jump, I managed to switch watches with Leonard, and am I glad I did! For once there was no Dreaded Blue Arrow of Death on the chart plotter, and other than having to dodge a buoy on our track, my first watch was a breeze. I was tired and ready to go below around 0100 to crawl into the bunk. When I came back out at 0230, Leonard sent me back below. He was wide awake and had enough adrenaline flowing to keep him going for a while. He'd watched a coastal freighter on the radar that had been inside of us, cross in front of us, turn to pass us on starboard and THEN turn at us and approach our starboard side. Granted, it wasn't as big as a container ship, but compared to us, it was huge. He hailed the captain on the VHF and was told to go to channel 10, the channel the pilots use, but English was obviously a second language, and with a strong accent he wasn't all that clear. Somehow he mistook us for a pilot boat, and wanted us to come alongside his port side for a pilot pickup.
At this point Leonard dove below and turned on our remaining navigation lights and fore deck light to shine on the jib (we were sailing, and had been running only the masthead tricolor as required by law) to make it obvious that we were a sail boat, not a pilot boat. He said he was so busy trying to avoid the ship, that he gave up trying to talk to him on the radio. To add to the confusion, he also managed to trigger the Dreaded Blue Arrow of Death while trying get the chart plotter radar to track the big ship as it approached since it's navigation lights were lost in all the other lights on board (it can be difficult to pick out the navigation lights on the big ships since they also have a number of white deck lights). He managed to get everything under control and avoid the freighter while I remained blissfully ignorant below. I was glad it was his watch, as I'd have been screaming. He admitted he was close to screaming too.
Approximate size of ship that tried to approach us
What's really interesting about this tale is that it took place of Brigatine Inlet. We don't go in there because there isn't enough water for us unless we were to go directly to a marina. There was no way a freighter would have enough water to float! Shortly after he had things under control, Leonard heard the captain call for the Sandy Hook pilot boat. He bit his tongue and didn't tell the guy that he was too far away from Sandy Hook to be heard. All we can figure is he no idea where he was, saw our dark hull with white decks and assumed we were the pilot boat he expected. Maybe he should have looked closer at his GPS position!
Sunrise off the New Jersey coast
Other than that incident, it was a great night. We had fantastic sailing conditions, and only used the engine for 4 hours, including the time it took to get out of Cape May before reaching the Verrazano Bridge. There had been a couple of short lulls in the wind, but for the most part, we flew along between 6 and 7 kts in comfortable sea conditions. Just after sunrise, the wind went to the NE and we motor sailed for the rest of my watch. With another 25 miles to go offshore, we were grateful the wind didn't stay on our nose and build, as that would have made for a much longer and harder trip. I dealt with a bit of fog and drizzle that made for somewhat limited visibility, making it harder to spot all the local fishermen who were out early Sunday morning. When Leonard came on watch the wind was back and a bit stronger, so we reefed the main and ran out the jib again and sailed almost to the Verrazano Bridge where we ran into a wind hole. It was the most sailing we'd ever had along the Jersey shore, had we known, we wouldn't have had to stop for fuel in Cape May.
Verrazano Bridge and old fort on Staten Island
Lower Mahatten
Statue of Liberty with a crowd of people
With the current finally running with us, we headed for the anchorage by Nyack, just north of the Tappan Zee Bridge, for the night. We had the anchor down by 1830, and had gone 218 nm since leaving Reedy Island Saturday morning. Needless to say, we were looking forward to an uninterrupted night's sleep, and glad to have this part of the trip behind us.
Hi,
0530 came much too early in spite of having gone to bed shortly after dinner, but if we wanted to catch any of the flood current we needed to get underway. It did make for a faster passage, especially where the river narrows and takes a sharp turn by West Point which always seems to increase the currents. We rode the plus side of the current all the way to Poughkeepsie before running into slack water and the start of the ebb. Going up river, the ebb was stronger than the flood.
By mid afternoon we realized we could reach Catskill before dark and called to change our reservations for dock space. I guess the early start paid off, as with a later start and more ebb current, we've ended up staying in Saugerties. Mike, at Riverview Marine, said he'd sink his own boat to make room for us at the dock, and there'd be a spot at the fuel dock or by the crane available for us for the night. Even if we were too tired to start the mast stepping process, we could at least check to see if the mast cradle was where we'd left it last fall. After the first trip south we learned (the hard way) to fasten the cradle pieces together with bolts and decking screws which makes them much less attractive to someone needing a spare piece of wood. With the cradle secure, we headed into town for dinner at the Thai place which serves surprisingly good food.
Leonard had secretly hoped to get the sails off that evening, but it was almost dark by the time we got back from dinner, and I was in favor of waiting until first light. The birds had us up bright and early, and we started the process of removing the bimini, solar panel, sails, boom and vang, and collapsing the dinghy. Then finding a place to put everything. It's amazing to see how much stuff we can stow in the aft cabin. It serves as an attic/garage/basement. Things were a bit tighter this year since we'd shipped the original jib in case our laminated sail didn't make it through the Bahama winds. Thanks to Tom White's patch job in Jacksonville, the sail held up, and we had one more bulky object to stow than usual.
We worked all morning as the day grew progressively hotter. With low water in the morning, we had to wait until early afternoon to fit into the slot by the crane. By 1430 the mast was in the cradle on deck and we moved to a slip to finish up the process of lashing the mast supports to the deck and getting all the rigging tied to the mast for the trip up the lake. With full sun and temperatures reaching into the 90's we were exhausted before everything was done.
Seems we've missed spring this trip and advanced into mid-summer with 90's in Fernandina Beach, Charleston, and now the Hudson Valley. Our planned bike ride for provisions was canceled as it was just too hot. With the thermometer reading 94 in the cabin, I decreed it too hot to turn on the stove, so after well deserved showers, we walked to a place by the river for dinner. After dinner we took a walk along the river, up to the Battle House, and back down through a nice residential section of town. The architectural details hark back to a time before cookie cutter houses and it's fascinating to look at the variations and details on the buildings, most of which are in great condition. As the county seat, Catskill seems to have retained enough vitality to have remained fairly healthy in the recent economic down turn.
With the current against us in the morning, Leonard promised a later start, but he lied. The birds had us up bright and early. The decks were awash with cottonwood fuzz which had gotten dampened with the morning dew making it difficult to remove. The cottonwoods seem to be having a banner year. We saw drifts of "snow", up to 3", on our walk, and the stuff came down like a fluffy, lazy snow storm in any light breeze that worked it loose. We hosed down the decks in an attempt to remove it, and I vacuumed up a bunch that had blown into the cabin before we departed shortly after 0700.
Needing a few more provisions, we wanted to get to Mechanicville, before Lock 3, for the night. The grocery store there is much closer than the one in Catskill. It was another hot, windless day with temperatures back into the 90's. We strung an old blue tarp over the mast to provide some much needed shade at the helm. I wonder how we managed without a bimini on Gulf Wind all those years. With the mast down, the bimini comes off, and the shade and protection it provides for either sun or rain is sorely missed. The blue tarp works, after a fashion, but is difficult to keep up in any wind.
We reached Mechanicville around 1630 and had the town dock to ourselves. After a brief rest below, out of the sun, we headed off to the store. The water in the solar shower was plenty hot, we'd even put a towel over it for shade during the afternoon, and the shower felt really good after a hot and sticky day. Rain and possible thunder showers had been in the forecast, but clouds had failed to develop in spite of the heat and humidity, so it looked like it would be a quiet night. It was, until around midnight, when I woke up to flashes of light. I woke up enough to remember the towels were out on the life line and the flap in the dodger was up, so I pulled on some clothes and went on deck. By then the flashes were closer and brighter, and Leonard woke up when he heard me on deck. We got everything closed up before the rain arrived. I was thinking how nice it was not to have the big metal stick waving at the lightening, but Leonard was thinking that big metal stick wasn't grounded like it would be if it was up. Luckily it wasn't much of a storm, although I heard on NPR in the morning that parts of Vermont had been hit hard with damaging winds and suffered major power outages.
Tugboats ashore at Fort Henry
On Thursday we went through locks 3 - 11, thankful for a cooler and light wind day which made going through the locks easier. We had to wait at Lock 8, the lock master was out mowing the grass and wasn't ready for us. He even mowed while we went up in the lock. We saw very little traffic in the canal; some of the little tugs that were working at the PCB cleanup by Fort Edwards, one multi-purpose barge with a crane and finally one pleasure craft headed south. Most of the little tugs were ashore, eother still stored for the wonter, or already finished with the work. It was the least traffic we can remember seeing in the canal, and we had all the locks to ourselves. It was almost 1700 by the time we got to Whitehall, so rather than go through Lock 12 and do at least another 10 miles to reach an anchorage, we tied up at the town dock. Once again we were the only boat, although about dusk, a little power boat tied up ahead of us.
After dinner we went for a walk. There were several youth ball games underway in the park across the canal. We watched for a bit before heading for Stewarts and some ice cream. After all the extra calories, I insisted on hiking up to Skene Manor to burn a few of them off. Unfortunately Whitehall lacks the vibrancy of Catskill or even Mechanicville. Back in the heyday of canal boats it was a bustling, well-to-do town, and before that, the place where many of the Revolutionary era boats were constructed, earning it the title of "Birth Place of the US Navy". There is little in the down town area other than empty store fronts, a few bars and an Amtrack station. Several of the old buildings that had been in the worst state of repair have beendemolished while others are in various stages of repair, but empty. Unfortunately the town appears to lack industry and jobs.
In the morning, going through Lock 12 was a breeze. We'd managed all the locks without touching the mast on the lock walls, although the nose of the wind generator touched in one "up" lock when the surge from the incoming water pushed us around. We were thankful for a mostly windless (if hot) passage which makes doing the locks easier.
The Narrows at Dresden
Turtles in the morning sun
The trip up the narrow part of the lake was beautiful. It was perfectly calm, making wonderful reflections and easy going. Once again we realize how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful area, and understand why we make the long trip back to the lake. Lots of the cruisers put their boats up in the south for the summer, boating only in the winter. We'd miss summer cruising.
Reflections
More reflections
Bridge Construction and two ferries at Crown Point
We arrived at LCYC at 1800, having made our "by Memorial
Day" loose schedule, a month to the day after departing the Manjack Cay
in the Abacos. According to our log reading we traveled 4,488 nm
since
our departure in October, and had some memorable adventures. On
this
trip we did more sailing than any on of the previous trips which added
to the pleasure. We are very thankful for our autopilot, who
played an
integral part in our adventure, especially on the off shore legs.
With
the mast
scheduled to go back up on Thursday, June 3, we'll return the status
of "sail boat". Until then, there's a lot of cleaning to
be done to remove the ravages of salt water from the boat. It's
amazing how
"un" stainless steel is, luckily with enough elbow grease, the luster
can be returned.
0530 came much too early in spite of having gone to bed shortly after dinner, but if we wanted to catch any of the flood current we needed to get underway. It did make for a faster passage, especially where the river narrows and takes a sharp turn by West Point which always seems to increase the currents. We rode the plus side of the current all the way to Poughkeepsie before running into slack water and the start of the ebb. Going up river, the ebb was stronger than the flood.
By mid afternoon we realized we could reach Catskill before dark and called to change our reservations for dock space. I guess the early start paid off, as with a later start and more ebb current, we've ended up staying in Saugerties. Mike, at Riverview Marine, said he'd sink his own boat to make room for us at the dock, and there'd be a spot at the fuel dock or by the crane available for us for the night. Even if we were too tired to start the mast stepping process, we could at least check to see if the mast cradle was where we'd left it last fall. After the first trip south we learned (the hard way) to fasten the cradle pieces together with bolts and decking screws which makes them much less attractive to someone needing a spare piece of wood. With the cradle secure, we headed into town for dinner at the Thai place which serves surprisingly good food.
Leonard had secretly hoped to get the sails off that evening, but it was almost dark by the time we got back from dinner, and I was in favor of waiting until first light. The birds had us up bright and early, and we started the process of removing the bimini, solar panel, sails, boom and vang, and collapsing the dinghy. Then finding a place to put everything. It's amazing to see how much stuff we can stow in the aft cabin. It serves as an attic/garage/basement. Things were a bit tighter this year since we'd shipped the original jib in case our laminated sail didn't make it through the Bahama winds. Thanks to Tom White's patch job in Jacksonville, the sail held up, and we had one more bulky object to stow than usual.
We worked all morning as the day grew progressively hotter. With low water in the morning, we had to wait until early afternoon to fit into the slot by the crane. By 1430 the mast was in the cradle on deck and we moved to a slip to finish up the process of lashing the mast supports to the deck and getting all the rigging tied to the mast for the trip up the lake. With full sun and temperatures reaching into the 90's we were exhausted before everything was done.
Seems we've missed spring this trip and advanced into mid-summer with 90's in Fernandina Beach, Charleston, and now the Hudson Valley. Our planned bike ride for provisions was canceled as it was just too hot. With the thermometer reading 94 in the cabin, I decreed it too hot to turn on the stove, so after well deserved showers, we walked to a place by the river for dinner. After dinner we took a walk along the river, up to the Battle House, and back down through a nice residential section of town. The architectural details hark back to a time before cookie cutter houses and it's fascinating to look at the variations and details on the buildings, most of which are in great condition. As the county seat, Catskill seems to have retained enough vitality to have remained fairly healthy in the recent economic down turn.
With the current against us in the morning, Leonard promised a later start, but he lied. The birds had us up bright and early. The decks were awash with cottonwood fuzz which had gotten dampened with the morning dew making it difficult to remove. The cottonwoods seem to be having a banner year. We saw drifts of "snow", up to 3", on our walk, and the stuff came down like a fluffy, lazy snow storm in any light breeze that worked it loose. We hosed down the decks in an attempt to remove it, and I vacuumed up a bunch that had blown into the cabin before we departed shortly after 0700.
Needing a few more provisions, we wanted to get to Mechanicville, before Lock 3, for the night. The grocery store there is much closer than the one in Catskill. It was another hot, windless day with temperatures back into the 90's. We strung an old blue tarp over the mast to provide some much needed shade at the helm. I wonder how we managed without a bimini on Gulf Wind all those years. With the mast down, the bimini comes off, and the shade and protection it provides for either sun or rain is sorely missed. The blue tarp works, after a fashion, but is difficult to keep up in any wind.
We reached Mechanicville around 1630 and had the town dock to ourselves. After a brief rest below, out of the sun, we headed off to the store. The water in the solar shower was plenty hot, we'd even put a towel over it for shade during the afternoon, and the shower felt really good after a hot and sticky day. Rain and possible thunder showers had been in the forecast, but clouds had failed to develop in spite of the heat and humidity, so it looked like it would be a quiet night. It was, until around midnight, when I woke up to flashes of light. I woke up enough to remember the towels were out on the life line and the flap in the dodger was up, so I pulled on some clothes and went on deck. By then the flashes were closer and brighter, and Leonard woke up when he heard me on deck. We got everything closed up before the rain arrived. I was thinking how nice it was not to have the big metal stick waving at the lightening, but Leonard was thinking that big metal stick wasn't grounded like it would be if it was up. Luckily it wasn't much of a storm, although I heard on NPR in the morning that parts of Vermont had been hit hard with damaging winds and suffered major power outages.
Tugboats ashore at Fort Henry
On Thursday we went through locks 3 - 11, thankful for a cooler and light wind day which made going through the locks easier. We had to wait at Lock 8, the lock master was out mowing the grass and wasn't ready for us. He even mowed while we went up in the lock. We saw very little traffic in the canal; some of the little tugs that were working at the PCB cleanup by Fort Edwards, one multi-purpose barge with a crane and finally one pleasure craft headed south. Most of the little tugs were ashore, eother still stored for the wonter, or already finished with the work. It was the least traffic we can remember seeing in the canal, and we had all the locks to ourselves. It was almost 1700 by the time we got to Whitehall, so rather than go through Lock 12 and do at least another 10 miles to reach an anchorage, we tied up at the town dock. Once again we were the only boat, although about dusk, a little power boat tied up ahead of us.
After dinner we went for a walk. There were several youth ball games underway in the park across the canal. We watched for a bit before heading for Stewarts and some ice cream. After all the extra calories, I insisted on hiking up to Skene Manor to burn a few of them off. Unfortunately Whitehall lacks the vibrancy of Catskill or even Mechanicville. Back in the heyday of canal boats it was a bustling, well-to-do town, and before that, the place where many of the Revolutionary era boats were constructed, earning it the title of "Birth Place of the US Navy". There is little in the down town area other than empty store fronts, a few bars and an Amtrack station. Several of the old buildings that had been in the worst state of repair have beendemolished while others are in various stages of repair, but empty. Unfortunately the town appears to lack industry and jobs.
In the morning, going through Lock 12 was a breeze. We'd managed all the locks without touching the mast on the lock walls, although the nose of the wind generator touched in one "up" lock when the surge from the incoming water pushed us around. We were thankful for a mostly windless (if hot) passage which makes doing the locks easier.
The Narrows at Dresden
Turtles in the morning sun
The trip up the narrow part of the lake was beautiful. It was perfectly calm, making wonderful reflections and easy going. Once again we realize how lucky we are to live in such a beautiful area, and understand why we make the long trip back to the lake. Lots of the cruisers put their boats up in the south for the summer, boating only in the winter. We'd miss summer cruising.
Reflections
More reflections
We were curious to see the changes at Crown
Point since the bridge was removed last winter after it had been found
to be unsafe. Clean up crews began clearing the rubble
immediately
after the demolition, and we wondered if there would be problems in
transiting the area. Two ferries were shuttling cars between New
York
and Vermont, and barges were working on both shores, but we passed
through the area without a hitch. As we approached LCYC we heard
a
Coast Guard announcement stating all vessels transiting the area were
restricted to 5 mph and were to stay away from the buoys marking the
work area. We hadn't seen any buoys, and had sped past at 6 kts.
Bridge Construction and two ferries at Crown Point