Post #23: Runnin’ in the Rain

 Sunday, October 25, 2020

On Friday we had learned from the Coast Guard that the ICW would be closed for part of the day on Sunday to accommodate the Offshore Powerboat Association World Championship Races in Morehead City.  So we had to leave Beaufort by 8 a.m. if we were to get through before the races started.  This is what me missed:

We did see this fishing vessel docked at the North Carolina port facility.  Sometimes I wonder that there any fish left in the ocean at all!

The rain began soon after we left Morehead City so I don’t have a lot of pictures of this part of the trip.  We really can’t complain as this is our first rainy day since September. It pretty much looked like this:

We know that when we are at anchor we need to leave our “Anchor Light” (a white light at the top of the mast) on all night.  And we know we’re supposed to keep some lights on when we’re moving at night or in reduced visibility like today.  So I went below to our electrical panel to turn them on.

Wait, was that “Running Lights” or “Steaming Light” or “Tricolor Light”? And what’s the difference between them?  (It’s times like this when I’m reminded how little I know about boating and that it will take me decades to learn all I should know.) I searched for an answer on line and finally went right to the source and resorted to reading the USCG regulations—as I should have done in the first place.

By the way, if you thought the breaker board was confusing, this is the spaghetti that resides behind it:

Navigating along the ICW in the pouring rain is not for the faint of heart. Although the channel waterway is supposed to be at least 150’ wide, that is far greater than the actual navigable waters (for many sections of the ICW) for boats that draw more than 5’. There is substantial shoaling (shifting sands and mud) along many parts of the ICW, so we need to pay close attention to the ATONs (all those buoys and markers) and the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) survey maps which are overlaid on our electronic charts.  To keep from going aground in the sand or mud, it is sometimes like threading a needle or, as David says, “We’re going to be doing a dosey-do ahead.”  

In addition, we have downloaded  “Bob’s tracks” on top of the USACE maps and ICW charts. “Bob” refers to Robert Scherer, who cruises the ICW, works for the Waterway Guide (a nautical publication), and writes a yearly ICW passage guide. This fall, Bob is about 200 miles ahead of us, and daily posts the “track” of  his boat’s passage.  

Here’s David to explain—

Time for a picture:

Here is a (particularly bad) section of the ICW that we transited yesterday.

• The width of the ICW is covered by the colored US Army Corps of Engineer’s survey - done on 9/10/2020 - so quite recent. The depths in feet are MLLW (mean lower low water).  If we transit at high tide, we know we have a bit more cushion but unlike in Boston where the tidal swing is 8-9 feet, the tidal swing in parts of North Carolina have ranged anywhere from 18” to 4.5’.  Figuring that out requires referencing another chart and keeping vigilant.
• We download the latest USACE updates every day when transiting areas like this.
• As you can see, there is nowhere near 150 feet of navigable water for Onward, as she needs 5’4” clearance.
• The green square marked “99A” is a US Coast Guard buoy - but good luck trying to navigate with that alone:-)
• The dark blue dashed line is “Bob’s track” - dated 10/20/2020 - one week ago.
• The green dashed line is Onward’s track yesterday (10/26/2020) - as you can see, David was following Bob’s track as closely as possible.
• There are areas along our track that are barely 6 feet at low tide.
• When we transit areas like this, Carol watches for other boats or any other issues, as David is glued to the chartplotter. One little slip, and Onward is aground.
• David has taken to referring to these sections of the ICW as the areas where the “fiery red tentacles from Hell” are reaching out to us from both sides. We’re OK in the green, blue, and yellow but that’s it.

Obviously before this data was available, a lot more boats went aground. We often wonder how many boats have this technology.  If not, they must be wondering why on earth we are zigging and zagging sometimes!

Post #22: Houses! Cars! People!

Saturday, October 24, 2020

We awoke to a mystical fog this morning, forcing us to sip our coffee and listen to the owl calling on shore:

Each morning I set the US flag in its proper holder on the davit brace aft of the dinghy.  This morning I thought of the daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance we had back in grade school.  And I thought of my Girl Scout leaders and camp counselors who taught us how to respectfully treat the Stars and Stripes.  I know that there is a lot of consternation and conflicting opinions about flags and what they symbolize.  I know I’m being naive but I hope that with the upcoming election we can get back on track as a country, put aside our differences, and realize that the most important flag is this one, imperfect as it may be.  We need to preserve and nurture our country’s best qualities so the flag of the United States of America will stand for an indivisible nation “with liberty and justice” for all our grandchildren’s grandchildren’s grandchildren.

Dolphins greeted us as we left the anchorage and we both breathed in deeply the fresh smell of cedar and pine.  But we were getting closer to Beaufort (pronounced Bo-fort, not to be confused with Beaufort (Bew-frt), SC) and houses began to pop up along the banks—and cars, trucks, jet skis, and even a private helicopter!

We    

Beaufort, NC was founded in 1709 and is one of the few places along the coast to provide easy access to the “outside,” i.e., the Atlantic Ocean. It is one of the major jumping-off points for trips to the Caribbean  due to its close proximity to the trade winds.  It is a 4-day sail to the Bahamas and a day more if you go north to Bermuda.  I’m impressed by those who undertake sailing 24-hours a day in the open ocean but I like being in one place when I lay my head down at night.

Once we were docked and had lunch, we borrowed the loaner car from the marina, drove to a large grocery store in Morehead City and reprovisioned fresh vegetables and fruit.  As we crossed over the Route 70 bridge, we could see the Lower Outer Banks and the Atlantic in the distance. 

In the evening we walked to the historical area of Beaufort, a charming and well preserved example of early 1800’s architecture.  We’d like to enjoy some of the restaurants but few folks were wearing masks around town so we kept our distance and ate aboard Onward.  We passed this store on the walk back to the boat. I’m glad we drove to Harris Teeter instead.

I heard a weird sound about 11:30 p.m. so went up on the foredeck to investigate.  A 2-foot tall black-crowned Night-heron was hunched over, balancing on our bow line tied to the dock.  He was laser-focused on catching a tasty dinner.  He had more patience than me (and more incentive) so I went back to bed.  I hope he was successful.

Post #21: Water World

Friday, October 23, 2020

We left Dowry Creek Marina around 8 this morning since we needed to go 46nm to come down the Bay River and cross the Neuse River, (one of the largest and most open rivers in the country) under favorable conditions and get to our anchorage destination before dark.  Although we have not seen many other boats traveling the ICW for most of our journey, this morning was different. We were a caravan of 10-12 boats, all with the same idea.  The comments on the Cruisers’s Forum on Facebook indicate that cruising boat traffic on the ICW is down probably by half this year.  

We’ve been keeping a log of the names of boats and sailors we’ve met so far as we may run into them again at various anchorages and marinas along the way, especially when we get to Key West (and of course I can’t remember any of their names!).  They are an interesting bunch and many have been cruising for years, some just recently.  They sure are living a very different lifestyle than our friends and relatives back home.  Many have sold their houses and cars, and shed most of their possessions—but have purchased folding bikes, inflatable kayaks, dinghys, fuel pumps and water jugs, etc.  Their life is water-based with an occasional month or three spent on land working to “refill the cruising kitty” whereas all of our boating friends in New England live a land-based lifestyle with an occasional sailing trip. So many options.

We’re slower than most everyone so the power boats passed us early on and some of the sailboats did, too.  We’re content to mosey along and enjoy the scenery.  Like this boy and his father, takin’ life at a slower pace:

After we crossed under the Hobucken (sic) Bridge, we were surprised to see a Coast Guard station along the banks of the river.  This was hardly a busy port!  On second thought, it made sense since this would be a protected spot during a storm yet provide quick access for the Coast Guard to aid mariners in Pamlico Sound. the Neuse River, and surrounding creeks and waterways.

I want to take a moment to underscore the importance of the US Coast Guard.  They do not get the credit they should nor the federal budgetary support they require and deserve. According to their web site, the USCG “protects America’s economic, national and border security,” a pretty tall order given the US coastline of almost 100,000 miles plus the Great Lakes and canals and waterways like the ICW. They also broadcast critical information on VHF Channel 16 twenty-four hours a day, alerting mariners to vessels and individuals in distress.  This can be anything from broadcasting a report of an unmanned kayak drifting offshore, to a motor boat taking on water after hitting a rock, to air-lifting search and rescue survivors, to enforcing maritime law, to intercepting illegal drugs, to maintaining the aids to navigation (ATON) we and every vessel plying US waters rely on daily—just to cover a few of their responsibilities.  Seriously, David and I would be lost without them.

We passed by the commercial shrimping facilities at R. E. Mayo, a reminder of the bounty of fish and crustaceans found in these waters.  We saw one of their shrimp boats out on the bay later today. I hope when we return in the spring that Covid-19 will be under control and we’ll be able to enjoy a low-country shrimp boil at a restaurant. Yum!

We set anchor in a shallow bay just off the channel for another calm night.

 

Post #20: Alligator River-Pungo River Canal

Thursday, October 22, 2020

It worked!! Closing all the hatches and lowering and fastening the side and aft “curtains” made of vinyl and canvas kept all those zillions of bugs away last night. Huzzah! 

We had read about the North Carolina “midges” while planning this trip. Last August I replaced all the screens on the boat with a smaller gauge mesh material designed to keep out no-see-um type critters and anything larger. Since our boat’s first owners kept her in the Chesapeake Bay area, they had purchased an invaluable contraption that covers the companionway (the entry to below decks) which protects us from bugs yet still allows for air movement. And when the canvas cover is rolled over the screen, it provides extra protection from rain and the beating sun.  We are very fortunate that both of the previous owners saved this screen/storm “door” for us to use, too.

I realized this morning that I forgot to mention a very important milestone of the trip in my post yesterday.  We passed  ICW Mile Marker 100 in the Alligator River! I thought of when our two kids reached Day 100  back in kindergarten.  The class celebrated with cupcakes, balloons and streamers.  I thought we should have done the same. Instead I just took this photo:

The terrain today was similar to yesterday with a 17-mile passage down the AlligatorRiver—Pungo River Canal which crosses through the Pocosin Lakes National Wildlife Refuge. When the Canal was finished in 1928 it was the last remaining link to complete the 1090-mile Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway from Norfolk to Miami.

It was flat, flat land with water everywhere. Yet according to some of the cruising guides we consult, sections of this area burned a few years ago.  We could see where the new growth had already begun to take hold.  But this fragile balance will easily be decimated by rising sea levels as it is part of the Pamlico Sound ecosystem.

We saw fifteen (!) turkey vultures soaring and gliding the thermals in the sky this morning.  They are larger than any other raptors except eagles and condors and have wingspans of 6 feet and bright red heads, making them easily identifiable.

At the end of the canal we passed under (just barely) the infamous Wilkerson Bridge.  Although the Army Corps of Engineers regulations require a fixed vertical clearance of 65 feet at mean high water for any bridge over the ICW, somehow the Wilkerson slipped by with only 64’ clearance. Onward’s fixed mast height is 61.5’ plus a 30” bendable antenna.  So when approaching a bridge, we proceed with caution and look for the “tide boards” which denote the actual clearance as measured from the water surface:

We turned in to Dowry Creek Marina for the afternoon and evening as we wanted to top off the fuel tanks, wash clothes and clean up the boat.  The staff at this family-owned establishment couldn’t have been more welcoming, courteous and accommodating.  We enjoyed their pool, hot showers, and free washing machines immensely!

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....

Post #18: Entering the ICW

 Tuesday, October 20, 2020

“This is the day the trip changes,” David announced at 7 a.m. Unlike the previous 700 or so miles where we sailed and motor-sailed in mostly open water, today we begin to travel the Intracoastal Waterway.  We’ll follow its path through man-made canals, and channels marked in rivers, creeks, marshes, sounds and swamps until we reach Cocoa Beach, FL where we’ll leave Onward for the holidays.  Only 880 miles to go!

We left the marina in Norfolk after topping off our water and diesel tanks and getting a “pump out.” Thanks to the Clean Water Act and critically important EPA regulations, our US waters and coastline are cleaner since disposal of all waste products is strictly regulated and services are provided at almost all marinas we’ve ever visited.

As we traversed the Elizabeth River through Norfolk, the scenery changed from Naval Station:

To commercial cargo hub:

 

to downtown office buildings:

and then back to industrial shipping:

Seeing these behemoths being repaired and refurbished at dry dock was mighty impressive:

David was constantly on the look out to avoid barges, tugboats, motor yachts and commercial ships of all sizes. Giants Causeway came a little closer than I’d have liked.

 

Once past Hospital Point, we officially entered the ICW at Mile Marker “0”. Only 1245 statute miles to go to reach Key West! But first we had to pass under 14 bridges—today!   Sailing vessel Pegasus announced on the radio that he would like to follow us through this next area.  I thought, “Follow US??? We don’t have any idea what were doing!!) but I kept quiet. By now we were 5 boats in a row with Onward at the lead. David hailed the bridge tender on the VHF radio and she told us to “standby.” (This is not an easy thing to do in a boat since you don’t really have a set of brakes.)  She asked us to “pull in tight” and then she slowly raised the lift bridge from 35’ to 135’ clearance.

The scenery soon changed again:

and like Mrs. Mallard’s ducklings (I know, they’re Canada geese, but...)

we all headed to our next stop, the Great Bridge Locks.  By now the power boats had all gone ahead of us except one.  We waited patiently for the locks to open, followed the lock tender’s instructions and tied up along the south wall.  While waiting in the lock we chatted with the couple behind us who were traveling with their two dogs, also headed to Key West.  They were from Plymouth, MA (!) and planned to work remotely from their boat rather than spend another cold winter at home. Maybe we will see them again.

We had experienced massive locks along the Rhine and the Danube on river cruises with my brothers but it’s a bit more nerve-wracking when you have to maneuver your own boat into a box of steel and concrete.  A mistake would have serious consequences for our wallet and would have ended the trip before it began.

Once we were through the locks, it was on to our 8th bridge of the day, the Great Bridge Bridge (sic), a bascule type structure.

There are two ways to get from the Norfolk area to North Carolina—via the “Virginia Cut” or the “Dismal Swamp.” Given our aversion to hitting stumps and logs in the water, we chose the former.  But we quickly realized that we were on a pretty swampy path, too.  But it was beautiful, serene, and oh, so quiet.  Just lovely.

We were unable to secure a reservation at the Coinjock Marina (North Carolina). This spot had been mentioned to us by almost every sailor we’ve ever met who has done the ICW.  Famous for their prime rib, we didn’t realize until too late that they were, quite literally, the only marina available for 30 miles! We won’t make that mistake again.  Now we know to be sure to make marina reservations 2 days in advance if possible.

So we anchored off the main channel in what I would describe as The Middle of Nowhere, walled in by a fog bank, turned on our anchor light at the top of the mast.  One of us worried that some wayward power boat or slightly off track barge might hit us in the middle of the night.  The other one of us went straight to sleep.

Post #17: Planes, Helicopters and BIG Ships—Oh, My!

 Monday, October 19, 2020

We got going at first light again this morning.  Up to this point in my life, I think I’ve only witnessed a handful of bright sunrises, most on Easter Sunday morning after trudging up Nason’s hill in West Boxford.  We were treated to another spectacle this morning, without having to take a step.

The duck hunters were awake, too.

As well as a pod of five dolphins—an ancient symbol of good luck to mariners!

We passed by two historically significant rivers today.  Cornwallis surrendered to George Washington at Yorktown at the mouth of the York River and Jamestown on the James River is the “original site of the first permanent English settlement in America.” We knew we wouldn’t be able to easily visit these two sites by boat so David and I took a day trip to the area by car while staying in DC, visiting the outdoor exhibits open during the pandemic. I highly recommend a 3-4 day trip (at least) to learn more about this area (Williamsburg is close by, too) and its significance in our nation’s history.  

I say this as a Massachusetts native whose family has resided in the Commonwealth since 1630.  I realize now how parochial my elementary school sense of American history was—that we beat the British back to Boston after the battles of Concord & Lexington and that was that.  We won.  (I can confess now that for decades I thought Yorktown was in New Jersey!)  Nathaniel Philbrick’s eminently readable In the Hurricane’s Eye: The Genius of George Washington and the Victory at Yorktown set me straight.  I have much more to learn.

Likewise, it wasn’t until reading an article in Smithsonian Magazine some 30 years ago that it ever occurred to me that there could possible have been a permanent English settlement before Plymouth. It wasn’t until the 1990s when archaeologist Bill Kelso began excavations that would eventually unearth the footprint of the old fort at Jamestown.  Eventually hundreds of thousands of artifacts were discovered and a more accurate and complex story of the settlement has emerged.  Much more to learn here, too.

There were two messages heard over the VHF radio today that cemented the fact that we are no longer in New England.

    1.) “Bubba Blue Ray calling Sugar Daddy.  Come in Sugar Daddy.”

    2.) “This is Warship 58 calling Cosco Vietnam”

The closer we got to Norfolk, Virginia, the more congested the route became.  Not only with commercial cargo carriers but also helicopters, fighter planes, barges and tugs carrying gravel and dirt, huge container ships, warships, destroyers, a hospital ship, and dredges. The military presence is everywhere.

I used to say that Newport was “where the big boys keep their big boats.”  Nope.  It’s Norfolk, VA.  I guess this really is my federal tax dollars at work!!

That cargo ship, Cosco Vietnam, finally caught up to us.  We learned our lesson yesterday, slowed down, and pulled over to the side of the channel to let her pass. It was as long as a football field.  This photo was not zoomed in!