Post #16: Racing down the Chesapeake

Sunday, October 18, 2020

The sun’s up and so are we.  Given the shorter length of days, we need to take advantage of every hour of sunlight we can. It was chilly all day yesterday, reminding us that we need to make tracks in order to stay ahead of Old Man Winter.

Today we’re headed to Deltaville, VA, some 57 nautical miles away. It’s been a great sailing day, averaging 7.5 knots in 15-18 knots of wind.  It was a pretty uneventful ride but we did see a lot of curious structures near the Patuxent Naval Air Station.  Not sure what these things all do but they sure looked impressive:

It seemed we spent much of the day trying to get across the mouth of the Potomac, more than 10 miles wide. It seemed to take hours. (Actually, it did.) We were soon awakened from our complacency, however, when we both noticed a rather large vessel headed up the commercial channel in the Chesapeake. David checked our AIS (Automated Information System) which tells the name, length, type of vessel, course direction, speed, and destination of those registered in the system.  Gulp— it looked like it was headed right towards US.  Really.

Now, usually vessels under sail have right of way but commercial vessels and especially large cargo ships hold sway due to their restricted ability to maneuver.  In other words, we needed to get the heck out of the way.  And since the Gentle Leader was coming at us at 18 knots—all 640 feet of her!—carrying who knows how many cars, trucks and other vehicles, we didn’t hesitate to change course.

We thought that was enough excitement for one day but there was another challenge waiting for us as we turned into the entrance channel for Deltaville, VA, just past the Rappahannock River. We both agreed where to enter the channel: green day marker to port (left) and red day marker to starboard (right) but where were the next markers? While we both sputtered about confusedly, David realized our mistake and began to turn Onward around. 

Bump. 

We came to a full stop.

My heart was in my mouth, my mind racing, wondering how long it would take for us to get a tow.  Meanwhile, David took control of the situation, put the motor into reverse and then gunned it forward to plow through the muddy bottom and get us back on track.  His quiet command during dicey situations never fails to impress me. And I guess all those years of driving in snow and ice in New England provided good practice.

Boy, was I glad when we set anchor. And stopped—this time on purpose.