Post #19: ZAP!!

Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Note: I can’t post this entry into the blog until tomorrow because tonight we are SO far away from civilization that we have no cell phone coverage. Seriously.  Not just no internet. No. Phone.  David was right yesterday, this is different.

As many of you know, like many Americans, I grew up at a home with an ice cream stand attached.  I watched from my bedroom window as people stood in line every day from late spring until early fall to buy homemade flavors such as fresh native raspberry and chocolate fudge walnut (my two favorites), sundaes, frappes, and banana splits.  Because we lived near a swamp and a pond, the mosquitoes were prolific, vicious, and enormous.  They loved to prey on juicy customers.  Worried that the bugs would keep customers away, my father purchased one of the first “bug zappers” complete with black light and electrified metal grid that popped and sizzled as it first attracted and then destroyed (i.e. fried) curious mosquitoes (and other flying objects—believe me, we kids had a field day.....)

This morning we awoke to so many bugs in our cockpit that we could hear them before we saw them—more than a whole summer of hot, steamy July nights at Benson’s Homemade Ice Cream!

David brandished his newest toy, an electrified paddle, and fought them off valiantly:

Thank goodness, they don’t bite. Just as he swept them aft, a huge flock of birds arrived for a tasty breakfast.  Honestly—how did those birds know just when to appear?  And where did they come from?  The more time I spend closer to the natural world, the more I am amazed.

Today we saw even more variety along the ICW, starting in Currituck Sound, then along a narrow cut through the aptly named Maple Swamp and the North River Gameland to Abermarle Sound (due west of the Outer Banks) and finally into the not-so-aptly named Alligator River. Some of the areas were wide open but very shallow and others were pathways down creeks lined with cedar stumps (called deadheads), scraggly pines, duck blinds, and fishing weirs.  At times I felt like we were passing through the scenes in Delia Owens’ Where the Crawdads Sing.

The Alligator River was wider than its name might imply.  We saw nary a person, boat, and very few birds for hours:

But wait—not five minutes after I took that video to show you how peaceful and isolated it was, look what appeared:

Five, yup, five fighter jets passed overhead, circling and maneuvering for about 30 minutes, treating us to quite an aerial display.  But like the birds this morning, where did they come from?????

We motorsailed on for another few miles and anchored off the channel again.  This time we dropped and secured the vinyl and canvas “curtains” that provide a complete enclosure for the cockpit.  We had them made for the boat to extend our sailing season in New England but we’ll use them tonight to ward off bugs instead of cold breezes. We’ll see what tomorrow brings....