Sailing – Page 3 – Pelagic Explorers

February 21, 2018April 7, 2018

2018, February 10-21 New Bern, NC to Port Royal, SC

Quit jobs: check. Pack up stuff out of Lindsey’s parents’ house: (mostly) check. Move stuff into Paul’s parents’ house: check. Head to New Bern, meet with mechanic, pick up sail, pack more food than you thought possible into boat, check out the birthplace of Pepsi, learn about how to make money blogging from a dude at the marina, untie the lines, and go: check!

Birthplace of Pepsi – Naomi’s favorite drink

Paul’s mom bravely agreed to join us for this (still cold) part of the trip. Paul and I actually really enjoyed the first part of the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) and were excited to share this part of it with her. And it didn’t disappoint! We saw a dolphin as soon as we neared the ocean at Morehead City the first day, and we saw dolphins nearly every day for the rest of the ICW. One day we headed out to sea (St Helena Sound) to avoid a shallow part of the ICW, and we saw about 40 dolphins – they swam alongside us, watching us curiously just as we watched them.

Paul and Naomi trying to stay warm on the ICW.

Lindsey and Paul chillin’ in the cockpit (on the cushions Lindsey made)

Dolphin in Saint Helena Sound saying “heyyyy”

This was the first dolphin to swim beside us for several minutes

We traveled typically 40-60 miles a day and anchored most nights. We anchored in fog, in swamps, in marshes, and in front of houses. I have never seen so many waterfront mansions in my life. We saw sunken boats. By Camp Lejuene, we watched ospreys fly (both the military aircraft and the birds) and experienced our first crazy storm (all wind, no lightning). At Charleston, we crossed paths with cargo ships. At Elliot’s Cut, the current helped us to set our boat’s speed record – 8.8 knots (~11 mph – not exciting for you but very exciting for us)!

Typical waterfront mansion along the ICW

We made a friend named Steven on the radio, a solo-sailor that had moved to the east coast from California. Steven was having a hell of a time on the ICW. He’d already grounded and called Sea Tow (like AAA for boaters) several times. He crossed the Abermarle in December, ran aground, and was frozen in for 3 weeks. We’ve kept in touch, relaying messages about the shallow spots we find.

Speaking of which, we ran aground! They say on the ICW there are sailors that run aground and those that lie about it. First at Lashallotte Inlet, which we knew was a problem spot, we tried to take the Coast Guard’s advice to “hug the reds” – well, we hugged too close, the incoming tide pushed us aside, and we were in the sand. Construction workers watched from the docks while we bounced around for half an hour until the tide rose and we were off. Our second grounding was approaching Charleston, in the middle of the channel according to the chartplotter, but at a spot known for shoaling (that I read about only afterwards, oops). Once again, it was low tide, so 30 minutes later we had more water and with the aid of some powerboat wakes, we bounced back into deeper water. This part of the trip was definitely more stressful at low tide, and we were thankful many times we only draw 4 feet. Eventually we started using the Army Corps of Engineers surveys in combo with Robert Sherer’s ICW book – this was insanely helpful because often the chartplotter and charts are just wrong.

Expressing our feelings towards the spot where we ran aground.

Turtles, bald eagles, herons, egrets, owls, pelicans – armed with binoculars, Naomi became the official wildlife spotter.

Pelicans so bold they were sitting on the crab boat’s engine

We spent Valentine’s Day at the Myrtle Beach Yacht Club and treated ourselves to SHOWERS (!!!) and a fancy dinner ashore.

Always hoping that you didn’t get wrong information about the height of the bridge

We weren’t on land again until the 19^th when we hit Port Royal (near Beaufort), SC. Why is SC so damn charming? Spanish moss, little pastel houses, historic buildings made of oyster cement, egrets walking through the tall grass. And it was even warm here! If not for the biting gnats, it would have been near perfection.

This was Naomi’s departure point – but not before visiting the Kazoo Museum. Yes, the Kazoo Museum! It’s more like a gift shop in their warehouse, but it was well worth the laugh and we purchased one to be the waking alarm for our onboard guests (here’s looking at you, Stanley).

A few more days here to shop and take advantage of the marina’s free bikes and YMCA passes (hot tub, pool, and 2 saunas!), and we were back on the move.

I like to stand and steer with the helm behind me… just to make people wonder

Paul… by the wind generator mounted just high enough as to not take his head off

Cuddling while steering…. you could say we are risk takers

December 20, 2017April 7, 2018

2017, November 27-December 2 – Abermarle Sound to New Bern, NC

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).

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.

Alligator River, heading for the Alligator-Pungo canal

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.

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…

December 17, 2017April 7, 2018

2017, November 26 – Getting Stuck in the Dirty Dismal

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 Canal

Dismal Swamp Canal… and duckweed floating on the surface

Tea 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 duckweed

Towing the other boat through the Dismal Swamp duckweed

The lockmaster and neighbor pulling us through the duckweed into the lock

Watching 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.

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!

December 15, 2017August 21, 2018

2017, November 22-25– Chesapeake Bay Herrington Harbour MD to Dismal Swamp Canal, VA

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.

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.

Stanley embraces the true benefits of “working remotely.”

Nothing says “sexy sailor” like a fur cap… right?!

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)!

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.

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!

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.

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 Lock

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!

December 5, 2017August 21, 2018

Sailing the Chesapeake Bay: Baltimore to Herrington Harbour – Free at last

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.

November 15, 2015April 5, 2018

Maiden Voyage

After a year of poking around Yacht World the day had finally come. We had closed on our boat SV Cambio (the first and only boat we looked at in person aside from boat shows). With winter on our door step a decision had to be made, keep Cambio on the hard in Port Annapolis or risk running a new to us boat 30 miles up the Chesapeake to save $1000 on storage fees and an hour per trip on travel. Keep in mind that we opted out of doing a sea trial to save hundreds in launch/haul fees. Despite what people may say I’m actually a rather risk averse person and the idea of taking a boat I barely know 30 miles on its first trip didn’t seem like a good idea. Keep in mind we didn’t run the engine or conduct a sea trial during the survey to save money. I also had practically zero experience with diesel engines (but I do now).

However with a $1000 cost savings in the back of my head I threw caution to the wind, purchased a SeaTow membership and told the marina to splash her. November 6th comes Lindsey and I meet up at the destination marina in Essex MD at 6pm after working a bit later than I had hoped. We left my truck and proceeded through Baltimore traffic to Port Annapolis. We arrived well after dark and thats when the fun really began.

As a rule most all marinas have a gate with a key code entry that are usually locked at dark. It was way past dark when we arrives and Port Annapolis is no exception to the gate rule. With all the excitement of buying a boat I also failed to request a key code. No problem, after walking around the gate and jumping up and down a few times to see if I could trip the gate to open I decided it was time to swallow some of that new boat owner pride. I then proceeded to walk around the marina like a boatless person at about 9 pm hoping to be lucky enough to find somebody to take pity on me and share their key code without notifying the authorities.

Luckily I ran into an exceptionally nice woman at the dumpsters and got the code.

So minor setback no big deal we will test the engine and run off to a nice dinner at one of Annapolis’s fine establishments. WRONG. While I probably could have pulled this off with a gasoline engine or hell a diesel that wasn’t older than me neither was the case. Cambio is equipped with a 18hp SABB diesel (not SAAB), to make things even more fun it has a controllable pitch prop (more on this little devil later). So I did what any guy would do I started flipping battery switches and turning the key. The motor starts turning but nothing is happening. The engine doesn’t have glow plugs so I squirt a generous dose of WD-40 into the air intake still nothing.

No problem switch to plan C. I pull up the manual and start looking for the cigarette ports. WTF is a cigarette port you say? cigarettes are blotter paper soaked in a strong solution of potassium nitrate (stump remover at your local hardware store) they are inserted somewhere into the block or cylinder on old diesels. I say somewhere because I still don’t know where to put them on my engine.

Plan D, first off I didn’t say plan D. I sure as heck didn’t want Lindsey to think we had gotten that far down the list and I didn’t actually have a plan D but I needed one and fast. You see the kind folks at port Annapolis would start charging me per day if I didn’t vacate their dock in the morning. After failing to obtain the number of a friend of a friend that happened to be a mechanic I remembered the previous owners posted their cell number on the listing for cruisers forum. I found and dialed said number and to my glee they answered. After another half an hour of mostly trying what I had already tried the conversation went to bleeding the fuel lines. Now I know little about bleeding diesels but it seems to be generally disdained by everyone. So I swallowed a little more of that new boat owner pride and sheepishly asked the previous owner if he could give me a tip or something. “loosen the bolt on the injector and squeeze the primer bulb till fuel comes out, 13mm wrench I think” was the reply. Oh how I have come to love that little 13mm wrench. I cautiously bleed both cylinders noticing a lot of air in one of them. Lindsey started cranking and bang, bang, bang (our engine sounds like a machine gun literally) she sprang to life. Sweet we can actually get to bed before midnight, this ain’t so bad.

530 Am rolls around and we quickly ready the boat for our getaway. We are in a rather tight situation with boats all around and about a 30ft wide (felt like 10) channel to get out of the marina. Not ideal especially since I have to figure that blasted controllable pitch prop out. For those of you who don’t know; a controllable pitch prop is very rare on a 33′ boat. It has and in/ out of gear transmission and a second lever that actually changes the prop pitch while blades are spinning to put you in fwd or reverse. Fancy yes, practical nope, not a chance. With all the dock lines firmly tied I ran a test to figure out what the heck foward was. Test successfully completed Lindsey sprang the bow for me to avoid the zillion dollar power yacht directly in front of me. Actually her much appreciated spring was a bit too much and I was now pointing and closing fast on 2 boats on the other side of the channel. I turned the wheel yep you guessed it the wrong way making the situation more dire. In my defense you have to steer Cambio from the side and behind never from in front as is normal and freaking convenient on every other wheeled boat known to man. Anyways realizing my error I flailed both arms as fast as possible to put the wheel hard over in the right direction while increasing the throttle to make things work a bit better. Don’t ask me how I did this since the wheel and throttle are at opposite ends of the cockpit but it worked. We avoided collision and aimed for the nearest open water so we could figure out how the heck to control this 24,000lb beast. We were now at least fully awake and ready to take on the day.

We quickly settled in to a warm cup of coffee and a leisurely cruise up the bay. Well kinda there were millions of prop fouling crab pots and hundreds of tournament fishermen in our paths but we managed. It was actually a pretty sweet trip until it came time to park.

Now parking a boat is something I’m actually pretty decent at thanks to my Dad’s rigorous training. My only flaw was that I liked to use reverse when parking. The problem was I didn’t understand that blasted controllable pitch thing and what I thought was reverse was sail mode. Instead of going backwards we made some black smoke the engine growled a lot and refused to rev up. All the while the boat just kept doing what it had been doing in spite of me. On my third attempt I was almost hopelessly wedged between two sets of finger docks when I gave up on backing in threw the wheel hard over and nudged the bow to the end of the dock where for a brief second it was close enough for Lindsey to dive off rope in hand. We ended up pulling our boat into the slip bow side first (unlike every other boat in the marine) but on the plus side we didn’t damage anything and we owned our very own sailing yacht.