The rest of the trip was surprisingly pleasant. We weren’t as cold (partially due to heading south, but more due to Jace helping Paul fix the heater).
Heat!!!
The Abermarle Sound, with it’s nasty reputation, was calm as can be. Paul and Jace embraced calling me “Smash Squirrel” (their commentary on my steering abilities). Boaters on the radio had good southern manners (“Good morning, Captain! Thank you for the slow pass!”) We anchored a couple nights in wide, open remoteness – just us and the stars, with water smooth as glass…. plus the occasional military jet overhead or duck hunter zipping by. Each night we anchored, I’d sit outside after dark and just listen to the silence.
Somewhere around Alligator-PungoAlligator River, heading for the Alligator-Pungo canalSunrise on the Alligator River
A boat named Dror, who had chatted with us on the radio in the Alligator River, talked us into docking at Downy Creek Marina in Belhaven, NC – several boats stayed there that night and it was fun to meet some other people. This was also our first courtesy car experience – some marinas have a vehicle you can use without charge, but they’re often pretty sketchy and this one was no different. Jace departed us here because we would have nowhere to drop him off the next day. Hgot a ride to the Enterprise rental car, which was an hour away. I tried not to rub it in when we got to put sails up the next day after having motored every day he was aboard.
Sunrise at Dowry Creek, Belhaven, NCDowry Creek, Belhaven, NCDowry Creek Marina, Belhaven, NC
We left the boat at Northwest Creek Marina in New Bern, NC (very friendly staff, excellent monthly rates). We took the sail to Omar Sails to repair the reef point blown out the same day as the water pump incident. Our sails are homemade (by a previous owner) SailRite sails – the sailmaker was quite impressed with how good of shape the mainsail was in for its age and was really fascinated that it is so old school that you can’t even buy the tools to make them that way any more.
First time on the trip with just the 2 of us on the boat!
It was so weird to say goodbye to the boat. I wasn’t quite ready to leave. We’d been on the boat almost every weekend for almost 2 years. Now I wouldn’t see her for 2 months. In addition, I had to go back to home and work and start to think seriously about saying goodbye to people there. I had to prep for not seeing Paul for weeks while he worked in TN. All the ups and downs of doing something like this were no longer worries or fantasies – they were now realities.
Finding our descriptors at the Wright Brothers monument…….and being a bit cheeky about it. 😉
You ever watch a video of something bad happen to someone else and think it couldn’t happen to you? I suppose that’s how we felt about the all the sailing blogs we read and YouTube vlogs we watched – they’re just showcasing the crazy! This stuff doesn’t happen to everyone!
After the water pump incident, we should have known, but we needed one more event for reality to set in: Lots of things will go wrong, often, for every sailor.
We were very excited that the Dismal Swamp had recently reopened after a long closure due to Hurricane Matthew damages. With its tea-colored water and overhanging trees, plus miles of remote wildnerness and the bonus of getting to experience two locks, it sounded lovelier than the alternative Virginia Cut. We were warned that the duckweed growing on the water’s surface was clogging engine strainers, but it just added to the charm of the swamp.
After breakfast and history lessons with lockmaster Robert and saying goodbye to Stanley (his client cancelled for Monday – I tried to use this to convince him to stay but he wasn’t falling for it any more), we were off and through the drawbridge.
A Cutter Marina tradition – “coffee on the porch” – revived at the lockmaster’s house
Despite the excitement of having to worry about hitting logs floating under the boat as well as hitting branches above with the mast, it was a pretty, relatively calm trip. Very little duckweed got sucked into our strainer, which we checked religiously. In a few hours, we cleared the next draw bridge with another sail boat and headed for the final lock.
Deep Creek Drawbridge at the Dismal Swamp CanalDeep Creek Drawbridge at the Dismal Swamp CanalDismal Swamp Canal… and duckweed floating on the surfaceTea colored water and floating duckweed in the Dismal Swamp Canal
The boat ahead of us slowed first. The duckweed thickened and their engine was overheating. We started to pass them, thinking we may fair better, but as we passed, we started to overheat and had to shut down as well – we checked the strainer but nothing clogged it. We dipped the boat hook into the weeds – they were inches thick, in some places approaching a foot. They were blocking our intake so the water to cool the engine couldn’t even be sucked into in the boat. The weeds were so think we weren’t sure the boats could move through it!
We were 100 feet from the lock entrance and unsure how to get there. We radioed the lockmaster but anything she could do with the water would only make our situation worse. We tried throwing a line – the guys on our boat and the other boat made several attempts to get the line to shore, but fell short. Paul started to dress in his wetsuit, thinking he’d swim the line to shore, while I begged him not to, just envisioning him totally tangled in the weeds. Finally we attached a plastic chug to the end of the line and someone heaved that to shore. The lockmaster, and one of many neighbors who came out to assist (i.e., watch the show), tied our line to a cleat inside the lock, we tied our stern to the bow of the other boat, and we began to winch/pull ourselves through the weeds and into the lock.
Pulling Miss Fe into the Dismal Swamp lock, through the thick, thick duckweedTowing the other boat through the Dismal Swamp duckweedThe lockmaster and neighbor pulling us through the duckweed into the lockWatching the Dismal Swamp lock open after Miss Fe was lowered
The lockmaster told us we may have set the record for the longest lock ever – 2.5 hours, and we were through!
Unfortunately at this point, we were still far from the next decent stopping point in Elizabeth City. And it was starting to get dark. We passed the other boat after they lost the light at the top of their mast to a tree (Paul: Lindsey, tell them they’re heading for a tree. Me: They got it. The guy on the bow is looking up. Boat: SMASH! Light: SPLASH! Guy on other boat, to guy driving: Sorry, I thought you saw it! Paul: I told you – boating is like TSA – see something, say something!).
The night couldn’t end without our own hiccups of course. We were aware of a railroad swing bridge that should typically be open to boat traffic, but when we got near it, it was dark and the bridge was unlit. As we got closer, our flashlights lit up a reflector – but only one so we couldn’t see which side of the opening it marked or if the bridge was even open. We approached super slowly and were uncomfortably close by the time we could see our way through.
Getting dark on the Pasquotank River
At Elizabeth City, we called the drawbridge over and over with no response. Finally the bridgetender came through: “This is the bridge! Do you need an opening?!” I tried to respond on both radios, but he couldn’t seem to hear me even though we were 100 yards or less from him. Eventually he just opened and we pulled into the Elizabeth City docks. We’d heard how much fun EC is for boaters, but we were obviously way too late in the season. We were the only boat there, a shady character tried to help us tie up the boat, and there was likely a drug deal happening in a car sitting in front of the docks. (Note to other boaters: It’s sounds like the Elizabeth City College docks are the way to go, as we later heard they let you use the showers and cafeteria).
The city saved its reputation (kind of) with surprisingly good Japanese food at the only restaurant open past 8 pm on a Sunday. It was a nice to meet you Elizabeth City, but we’ll be gone in the morning!
After Paul’s multi-day struggle to obtain the Vetus waterlock, it took him literally 20 minutes to install it, making this the first-ever boat project to be completed within its estimated time frame.
Our days at the marina went by quickly. Marina staff took pity on our “distress” situation and gave us some discounts. We enjoyed some beers overlooking the docks of Deale, but sadly we arrived too late in the evening to get the 25 cent oysters. We read the pilot notes for the Bay’s military zones and had a good laugh at all the ways the military will notify you to get out during training exercises, including but not limited to buzzing and dive bombing your vessel.
These couple days also gave Stanley and Jace time to scheme about how they were going to get back on the boat, and soon enough, Paul was driving back to Baltimore to pick up Stanley, who would stay through Norfolk. Jace was working in Norfolk over Thanksgiving and would join us there.
Thanksgiving Sunrise on the Chesapeake Bay
We departed Wednesday, with a gorgeous 10-15 knot wind from the north. We had just the jib out and sailed like that all day, hitting over 7 knots at times. Paul took a very long nap down below, letting the smooth motion of the boat rock him to sleep. Thirty-five nautical miles later, we anchored in the Patuxent River before sundown.
So cold, but so happy…So, so cold,….Cheapeake Bay sunset
The next day – Happy Thanksgiving – we motorsailed, then motored, our way to Fishing Bay (about 50 NM). It was dark when we arrived, and we noticed the bioluminescence in the water behind us. After 12 hours on the move, we opted to save our Thanksgiving meal for the next day and celebrated with hot dogs.
Relaxing sailing on the Chesapeake BayStanley embraces the true benefits of “working remotely.”Watching for cargo shipsAnchored cargo ships on the horizonNothing says “sexy sailor” like a fur cap… right?!Chesapeake Bay Sunset
Friday we motored into Norfolk at sunset. I started to bake a pecan pie and prepped the turkey. The numbers on the military vessels lit up and Stanley listened to taps over the Naval base’s speakers. We kept a sharp lookout for tugs and barges against the city lights as we headed for our Portsmouth marina. After showers (yay, showers!), I continued to cook an entire Thanksgiving feast – bone-in turkey breast, stuffing, corn, mashed potatoes, gravy and dessert – my first time ever cooking Thanksgiving by myself (with gravy-master Paul’s brief assistance)!
NorfolkNorfolk Sunset
Jace arrived with a growler-size bottle of rum, and we made the mistake of having pre-dinner dark’n’stormies. We had to celebrate the gang being back together! We then stuffed ourselves, since I had made enough food for twice as many people, and Paul immediately headed for bed. Jace and Stanley poured more rum, resulting in hours of karaoke, dancing, and waking up Paul to handfeed him pie.
Ready to drink a dark and stormy!
The next morning we were slow to rise (gee, wonder why) and I convinced Stanley he could surely stay one more day. After fuel and pumpout at a neighboring marina, we were barely on our way at 1 pm. Though only a short day of travel, it promised to be an exciting one (for the nerds we are) – with a closeup look at industrial/military Norfolk, our first “drawbridge”, and our first lock! I was actually pretty nervous about the bridge, which seems silly now – up to this point I hadn’t talked much on the VHF and none of us were sure how the whole thing really worked (even though we knew it should be basic: call bridge, ask to pass, pass when bridge opens, say thank you). I entered Hazard markers into our chartplotter for the drawbridges so they would be easy to spot and we could calculate our timing. Luckily, this first bridgetender communicated very well – I chimed into the conversation when another boat told the bridge we were coming around the bend, and the bridgetender told us to maintain pace and he timed the bridge opening perfectly for our arrival. Success!
On the water in Norfolk
I’d seen pictures of the Dismal Swamp sign online and thought for sure we couldn’t miss it, so I didn’t mark the turn in the GPS – so I laughed after Paul suddenly did a sudden 360 and yelled “Whoops!” fifty yards past the sign that none of us saw. We cruised up to the dismal swamp lock about 45 minutes prior to the next scheduled opening, so we dropped anchor to wait. The lock opened and we proceeded forward.
At the park by the Dismal Swamp Lock
The lockmaster Robert seems to have some internet fame, so I knew we were in for an experience. We secured our lines and Robert gave us a history lesson as the lock filled – George Washington owned much of the swamp but sold it and died before the completion of the canal. Supposedly Edgar Allen Poe wrote “The Raven” while in the swamp. Although tea-colored, the water of the swamp is extremely clean – NASA had planned to use it for the Apollo missions until they moved to reverse osmosis filtering instead. The lockmaster house is lined with conch shells that sailors have brought back to Robert, and he gave us a demo on how to play the shells as horns. He also asked us how, at our age, could we be doing this trip, since we’re not Canadian (apparently Canadian federal employees have a program where they can save part of their salary in order to take a paid year off) – a combo of hard work, budgeting, and a little insanity, I suppose.
The lock is graffitied with the names of the boats that have passed through it.The crew left their mark at the Dismal Swamp Deep Creek LockDismal Swamp
Since this was the last lock time of the day and stopping points in the canal are limited, Robert gave us an option we didn’t know we had – we could stay on the dock between the lock and the bridge and join him for coffee in the morning. How could we say no to that!
A friend of mine from college took us to dinner in Virginia Beach (Repeal Burgers = awesome) that night, but we couldn’t keep up the energy to hang out late – and we needed our energy because we didn’t know the adventure that awaited us the next day!
It was a very brisk friday night in November. The kind where you curl up by the fire with a hot chocolate. But for our rowdy gang of bay pirates it was time for adventure, time to tackle the Chesapeake Bay and the ICW after 2 years of boat work. The plan was simple: Lindsey and I had 2 weeks to get the boat as far south as possible. Our awesome friends and racing buddies Jace and Stanley were joining us for the first weekend so we could tackle the Chesapeake Bay in a nonstop fashion. However, the weather had other plans for us.
Lindsey, Paul, and Miss Fe – ready to roll!
We had said we would postpone the trip if wind was supposed to be over 30 knots. Predictions for Saturday were 20 knots out of the south, so we moved up our departure to Friday night to try to make progress before the opposing winds hit us.
The crew ready to depart Middle River: (clockwise) Lindsey, Jace, Stanley, and Paul
We started out around 9pm in a flat calm. Lindsey and Stanley took the first shift uneventfully. Minimal waves and wind presented them with no challenges. They watched out for ships – it is amazing how a big ship is so dimly lit – in a city with lots of lights on land, you are likely to notice the ships, not by their navigation lights, but by their silhouettes blocking the lights behind them. They guided Miss Fe under a side span of the bay bridge while a tug and barge glided through the center span. By the time their shift ended at 2am we were just south of Annapolis.
The weather was beginning to deteriorate with strong southerly winds and building seas. We knew we would be doing some bashing but figured we might still be able to make some mileage south. Jace and I took the helm making about 4.5 knots, but over the next 4 hours we watched our boat speed drop to 1.5 knots and the waves increased to the point they were almost stopping our progress altogether. Stanley and Lindsey were a sight for sore eyes at 6 am quickly helping us get up the mainsail to give us more boat speed. Jace and I retired below, half frozen and happy for some relief from the 25 knot winds.
Lindsey and Stanley listened to the updated weather report, which predicted gale force winds the next day, and they started to look for places to stop in the next few hours, knowing there was no way we could or should continue to Norfolk. As the waves continued to build I found myself catching air off my mattress every time we hit the peak of a wave. Surprisingly, despite the air time, I remained in one place and didn’t get banged up smashing into the walls.
Sleep didn’t come easily though and we were quickly awoken around 9am to very concerned shouting and a cabin quickly filling with thick black diesel smoke. Running towards the cockpit, I was surprised to see the engine still running and quickly ordered it be shutdown for fear we were having an engine room fire. As soon as the engine shut down we determined there was no fire just lots of smoke from the exhaust and an overheated engine. Without time to troubleshoot all hands were on deck to deploy our staysail and keep the boat moving. This was easier said than done as the waves were approaching 7′ and extremely close together with winds around 25 knots but Lindsey and Stanley did a superb job while Jace and I took the helm.
With sails up we managed, after several tries, to get ahold of SeaTow. We were only about 5 miles from the nearest marina but the SeaTow captain advised us that even our 4 ft draft might be too much there. Seatow advised we head to Herrington Harbor where they would give us a tow into a slip. By this time we had slipped behind a fishing wier and misread the depth on our plotter. We did our best to tack around the wier but found ourselves unable to tack with that much wind. After three gybes that all lost us ground, we took a much closer look at the plotter which revealed the “5” (feet) we thought we saw was indeed the letter “S” (days later we figured out this meant sand, whoopsie). Not knowing what S meant we decided to head for it and find out since our only other option to keep from running aground on a lee shore at that point was to drop our storm anchor. We went for it and actually had what would have been a great sail across the bay if not for the fear of what might have happened to our precious 18hp SABB diesel engine. The anticipation was too great for Jace and he graciously volunteered to head below and troubleshoot. After a few minutes he popped his head into the cockpit and held up a pulley. “hey know what this goes to” he asked. In dismay I replied “yes the raw water pump”.
Seatow met us as planned and quickly got us into the harbor where it didn’t take us long to realize we were at the biggest and nicest marina any of us had ever seen. Despite our concerns about the engine, hot showers were determined to be highest priorty and boy did we enjoy the plush showers we found. After shower, beer, and street tacos we settled into the engine work. Turns out the the pulley had no key but merely a set screw holding it to the water pump shaft. This set screw came loose and the pulley literally flew off the engine. This stopped all raw water cooling instantly which caused our Vetus waterlock muffler to melt in several places spewing copious amounts of diesel exhaust, water and melted plastic all over the engine room.
After a night of beer and dark and stormies, Jace and Stanley got picked by a friend on Sunday. I went along to bring down my truck from Middle River, knowing I would probably need it to get repair parts.
I ended up spending several days trying to procure the new Vetus waterlock. Despite the Vetus warehouse being less than an hours drive they would not let me pick it up at their facility despite my begging and pleading. Fortunately we met Karl of Karls’ Marine Engine Service in the Harrington Harbor office late one evening and hearing our story he went ahead and called in a favor to the local sales rep who delivered the part to a local chandlery the next day. We can’t thank Karl enough for his help and highly recommend him if you are in the Annapolis area.
