A New Plan

Skull Creek

32 15.11 N 080 44.73 W

Are we here because it's Halloween and this is Skull Creek?  No.  We were heading out to sea.  We just left the Port Royal Sound and were heading away from land when it hit me.   

I was feeling the wind on my face and listening to the NOAA weather radio.   Two things changed.  The wind direction and speed were not what was forecast,  we would be motoring into wind and waves and perhaps moving only 3.5 knots.   Too slow.  Second, the chances of a gale on Tuesday diminished.  Instead, starting Tuesday we may have a 4 day long window with N-NE winds about 20 knots.  A better plan emerged in my very slow brain.  I did a 180 degree turn, we motored back to the ICW and found this anchorage.

The old plan would have us motor 24-30 hours to Cumberland Island, spend a day or two there, then visit friends in Fernandina beach.  We would resume southward next weekend with only 6 days to get to Melbourne for the SSCA Gam on Nov 12.

The new plan has us hanging around for another day or so.  Then we'll be able to go to sea and sail instead of motor.   We could skip all of Georgia and northern Florida.  In three days we could make Port Canaveral, and still have 24 hours of margin left in the window.  That would put us on the Indian River with several days to spare.  It is a much better plan (I hope).  

There's a constant balance between get-there-itis (which tempts one to go when it's better to wait) and chicken (which tempts one to wait for the illusory perfect conditions.)  We strive to avoid either extreme.  

Frustration

Beaufort, SC
32 25.24 N 080 39.69 W

We got the weekly rate for this slip, so we could stay here until Tuesday. At the same time, we would very much prefer to go outside rather than inside from here to Florida. On the outside it is 107 miles. On the inside it is more than 200 miles with strong currents, big tides, and numerous shoals with the risk of running aground. Our bias is not unjustified.

Therefore we've been waiting for a window. It doesn't seem to come. We're running out of patience though. We just decided to leave here at noon. We'll motor against mild winds and waves today and tonight. Tomorrow the winds might swing our way for a while. By Tuesday dawn there's risk of a gale so we'll want to be back in by then. That's our plan.

Proud (Grand)Parents

Beaufort, SC
32 25.24 N 080 39.69 W

I continue to be shy regarding blogging about family business rather than our cruising life. I guess I'm a reject for the Facebook generation. However I can't resist posting the picture below. We're fiercely proud and happy for these three fine young men.

David, Nick, John

I also have to say that every time I have contact with the US military, with or without family, I come away tremendously impressed.

A critical part of our military prowess is the very effective propaganda machine that we run. It convinces parents, especially mothers, to willingly send their sons to war and convinces the rest of the public to give our soldiers the support they need to succeed.

Most important though, and really the point, is that would be enemies of America stand no chance if these guys are out to get you.

Graduation on The Parade Ground

p.s. Check out the fascinating story of this new parade ground here.

The Light Show

Beaufort, NC
32 25.24 N 080 39.69 W

The NOAA weather radio did its best to scare us the other day. I had it set to be silent except when triggered by severe weather alerts. Eight times in the afternoon and evening it went off with ear piercing shrieks and whistle sounds. Each time it talked about severe thunderstorms and tornado alerts. Scary stuff. We were plenty intimidated.

We prepared for the worst. I let out 140 feet of chain to anchor in 7 feet of water. We put most electronics in the oven to protect it from lightning strikes.

In the end, the storms all missed us. They came close, but no direct hits. However, up on deck I saw a really spectacular light show. The cloud to cloud lightning flashes were almost continuous, thus illuminating the sky, the sea and everything around us. Out to sea, perhaps 20 miles away, there was plenty of cloud to ground lightning. Seeing it from such a distance isn't scary, it's just beautiful.

By the way, using the app called Weather Bug on my Droid phone was much more useful than NOAA weather radio. Weather bug showed my animated maps. I could see not only where the storms were but also their direction and speed. Also, it showed on the map regions where there were tornado alerts. That's much more useful than the radio's citation of lists of county names. Since we are transient rather than residents, we don't recognize the names of counties or towns they name on the radio.

We're at a slip at Lady's Island Marina. Today we rent a car and drive to Fort Benning to see Nick's graduation from infantry school. Sorry, no more blogs until Saturday or Sunday.

Charleston South

Church Creek, SC
32 42.86 N 080 11.02 W

First manatee! Yesterday, just north of the Ben Sawyer Bridge and Charleston Harbor, we saw a manatee in the ICW. First one this season and the most northery one we remember seeing. (Robert, the lock tender at the north end of the Dismal Swamp Canal said that Manatees passed his lock several times.)

We got past Charleston Sunday afternoon by 1600. Hooray, that means that we didn't have to wrestle with the draw bridges during rush hour Monday morning.

We saw a Westsail 32 named W-Star anchored near the Charleston City Dock. I hailed her on VHF but got no answer. Why didn't we spend the night in Charleston. After all, it's a lovely city. Because our first year sailing we had a horrible experience with the river currents at Charleston City Marina. We swore never to go there again, and once we swear something like that, we hang on to it.

We're making better progress now. If we pushed it, we could be in Beaufort, SC by Monday night. However, there are some severe thunderstorms heading our way and a 70% chance of rain today and tonight. We'll probably find a secure anchorage and hole up until tomorrow.

Our plan is to leave Tarwathie at the Lady's Island Marina in Beaufort, and rent a car on Wednesday. We'll drive 5 hours to Fort Benning in Georgia for Nick's graduation from infantry school. Nick's family will be there. Dave and Cathy will come too. That's almost a family reunion. We'll miss only our Daughter Jennifer (who's in Vermont) and our grandson Bobby (who's in Fairbanks, AK).

The Really Full Moon

In the South Carolina Salt Marshes
33 08.27 N 079 19.85 W

Yesterday we came down the Wacamaw River through a vast cyprus swamp region. It is much like the upper end of the Pasquotank River between the Dismal Swamp and Elizabeth City. Cyprus swamps are beautiful.

Now we are in the northermost extensive salt marsh region on the ICW. From here all the way down to Saint Augustine Florida, we are treated to a different kind of beauty. Innumerable waterways crisscross every which way. Visible to us are the tops of swamp grass for miles in each direction. Very nice.

This morning we departed 15 minutes before dawn, as is our standard practice. The nearly full moon was beautiful 15 degrees higher than yesterday's moonrise.

Have you ever seen a really full moonrise? Sure you say; but odds are you're wrong. It's a trick question. I've only seen one in my lifetime.

The moon is full when it is exactly opposite the sun. At that moment, a straight line through the center of the moon and the center of the sun passes through the center of the earth (in 2D). At the full moment, for some people on earth it is noon, for others it is midnight and for a luck few it is the time of sunrise or sunset. For those at the right place on the earth's surface, they can see a simultaneous sunset and moonrise only if they can see the horizon on the east and the west, and if there are no clouds. The number of opportunities to meet all those conditions in a lifetime are limited. I only saw it once.

It was around October 5, 1979. I sailed my boat Jennifer up to the south end of Valcour Island on Lake Champlain to make a fire and cook supper. With me were my father Jerry, my son John and my friend Walt. From that point we had unobstructed views to the East, South and West. The sky was cloudless. Our reward was a view of a truly spectacular simultaneous moonrise and sunset. The moon looked orange and enormous, and the sun was fiery red. It was a wonderful sight. I'll never forget it. The image is burned in my brain.

May you be so lucky as to see that sight for yourself some day.

Reunion

Myrtle Beach, SC
33 40.853 079 02.47 W

We had a great reunion with Ray and Pat yesterday. They drove us to their campground where their RV was. They are here to attend a rally of Carriage brand RVs.

It gave us the opportunity to peek into the life style of "land cruisers" as opposed to "water cruisers" like us. It's really very similar. The life style and the kind of people one meets in each circle are substantially alike.

We ended the evening by watching a fireworks display on the beach. It was great with the brilliant full moon behind the firewords and illuminating the nearly still surface of the sea.

This morning, I captured an unusual picture (below). It is a moonset (not moonrise) over Osprey Marina. The picture was snapped about 5 minutes before sunrise, thus illustrating that the moon was 10 hours beyond being exactly full.

Osprey Marina

Myrtle Beach, SC

33 40.853 079 02.47 W

It't one of those days so nice that I makes you want to shout. It's calm, it's dry, the temperature is 72F, the sky is cloudless and tonight there will be a brilliant full moon. It's the kind of day where it would be nice to float down a lazy river on an inner tube.

Just to cap the feeling, we pulled in to Osprey Marina for the night. Osprey Marina is famous among East Coast cruisers as one of the most pleasant of all places to say. It's quiet, friendly, and very well sheltered. If it was stormy, we'd hardly know. See the picture.

Tonight we get to visit with Ray and Pat. They are one of two pairs of our cruising friends who gave up cruising on water with a boat to cruise on land with an RV. I plan to grill them tonight for a comparison of the life styles.

Ain't Technology Wonderful

Calabash Creek, SC
33 53.32 N 078 34.19 W

On one hand, we rejoice on the marvels of modern technology. On the other hand, we lament dependence on gadgets and the loss of older skills. Let's discuss a little of each.

Rejoice first. In past years, I downloaded reports of trouble spots on the ICW. Those are places where you might run aground. The reports were all prose. They describe where the spot is using waterway names and nearby landmarks. They tell what to do, stay left, stay right, not at low tide. Struggling to precisely understand that prose and match it with what you see with your eyes and ears is very stressful. Worse, for hours in advance of reaching the trouble spot the prose preys on the mind causing worry.

Technology to the rescue. Starting this trip, I found that I can download recent survey maps directly from the Army Corps of Engineers. The one above is an example. No prose is needed. No unnecessary worry is caused because of uncertainly. The maps are crystal clear. I know exactly what to expect. Better still, I can download these maps to my laptop screen using my Driod phone as a modem.

There are several more advanced uses of this technology that even I haven't tried yet. One can get lists of GPS waypoints forming routes to travel. The lists can be uploaded to Google Earth and to Google Maps. Since my phone's version of Earth and Maps uses the built-in GPS, it shows exactly where we are. One can even upload the GPS waypoints to one's onboard chart plotter. If you're really foolish, you can slave the boat's autopilot to automatically steer that route. Google has robot cars that drive by themselves; sounds like boats are next.

On the other hand, a couple of weeks ago, I wrote that I would never attempt to navigate into Newark/Portsmouth VA at night without a chart plotter. Paper charts would not be enough if one couldn't see the buoy numbers.

I thought about that after writing the post. I could do it with a paper chart, compass, stopwatch, rulers, pencils and dividers. Have I ever practiced that in real life in a real complicated harbor area? No. Do I have the latest edition of all charts? No.

It is much easier and very seductive to say that I'll do it with GPS help only, or else stand off and wait for daylight.

A similar case comes with the exit to Little Shark River in Florida. There is a series of parallel sand bars off shore; each about 1 mile long, 200 yards apart, and each too shallow to sail over. Without a GPS chart plotter, navigation isn't accurate enough to confidently sail between the bars. The alternative is to sail about 5 miles south, then 5 miles back again, adding about two hours to the passage. With the chart plotter, we have three times navigated confidently with bars 100 yards to the left and right, but deep water under the keel.

What's my point? Simply that I find it almost impossible to not be seduced by modern technology, and to use it to extend the envelope of things I dare to do. It nags at my mind. I shouldn't do it so much, but I can't help myself.

First Dolphins

Cape Fear River, NC

34 01.02 N 077 56.44 W

We saw our first dolphins of the season this morning. They weren't out at sea, but rather in the ICW. There were two of them and they swam along side us for a while. It was a welcome sight, and symbolic of our return to subtropical regions and to the winter season to come.

We are sincerely hoping that this winter will not be a repeat of last winter's cold. According to all the folk lore and farmer's almanac type signs we've heard so far, it should be milder.

There's two ways to travel on the ICW. There's the tourist mode, where one stops frequently to take in the sights and the local color. Then there's the commuter mode when the goal is trying to get as far as possible in minimum time. This trip we're in the commuter mode. We would like to be in Georgia early next week, and we need to be in Melbourne, FL by November 12. It appears that we'll be lucky to get to Beaufort, SC by Wednesday next week.

The winds haven't been favorable to go on the outside. On the inside, the tidal currents and the drawbridge schedules have been working against us. Therefore our progress is agonizingly slow. In three days since leaving Oriental, we have traveled only about 100 miles.

If we could have gone on the outside, we would be arriving in Florida about now. What does that say? This is our 6th southward migration. The first 3 times we traveled primarily on the inside because of weather. The 4th and 5th times we were blessed with extra good luck that let us make speedy and comfortable outside passages. Counting on that luck is a sign of being spoiled.

Live Fire

Camp Lejeune, NC

34 33.08 N 077 19.44 w

Last week while visiting Hancock Marina we heard a distant booming. At first I thought it was thunder, but there were no thunderstorms around. We learned that it was bombing practice.

Today, we heard the whump whump of explosions most of the day as we approached Camp Lejeune. It is a very unselling sound. All I could think of was the Germans in Berlin listening as Russian artillery approached the city in 1945.

At one point, we had to stop. There was a sign with blinking lights that said "Do not proceed if blinking. Live fire in progress." Well, we certainly didn't want to ignore that, so we dropped anchor. Soon though, our friend Calypso came along and they heard on the radio that the marines were done with live fire for the day and departed, but they forgot to turn off the blinking lights. With trepidation, we proceeded -- it was OK.

Surprise. We departed Moorhead City at 0700 this morning. At 0800, as we passed a side creek we saw a Westsail 32 coming out of the creek toward us. It was Jeff and Wendy on Calypso. What a nice surprise. We cruised together all day.

After anchoring here, I rowed the dinghy over to borrow Jeff for some assistance. Jeff and Libby hauled me up the mast and I reattached the side stays properly. We have been cruising (but not sailing) with Amsteel ropes temporarily doing what the side stays do. We feel much better with things up properly. However, we couldn't use the tangs that came in the package that came yesterday. They were the wrong kind. Instead, I straightened the old tangs and reused them. When we get the right kind of new tangs, I'll replace them.

p.s. We're right next to a landing spot where the Marines practice with the monsterous CH-53 helicopters and the new V22 Osprey. It's like a free air show.

On The Road Again

Moorhead City, NC

34 43.19 N 076 42.57 W

We waited at Oriental Marina for our UPS package containing the parts to repair our rigging. It finally came at 1330. We left immediately. We want to press on making the best time possible southward.

Next week is Nick's graduation from infantry school at Fort Benning Georgia. We want to be there for that. If possible, we'd like to leave Tarwathie at Saint Mary's GA and drive to Fort Benning.

We may not get that far though. The winds aren't favorable for offshore passage and Saint Mary's is 500 ICW miles away. Motoring 12 hours per day that will take 9 days; about 2 days longer than we have available.

Oh well, we'll keep our fingers crossed for favorable winds. Saint Marys is only 400 miles away as the crow flies. That's only 3.5 days travel on the outside. If that doesn't happen, we'll have to find a place closer than Saint Marys.

Along the way, we hope for an evening at Osprey Marina in Myrtle Beach. Our friends Ray and Pat will be near there this week.

Anyhow, the NC weather is very pleasant this time of year. Daily temperature ranges are about 48-72F (9-22C). The sunsets have been spectacular. We're having fun.

Follow Up

Oriental, NC

We're waiting for parts to repair the rigging. They should come Monday.

The other day I posted Different Strokes. I found an additional picture of this intrepid vessel; this time with the tent up.

From Fall 2010

Now for something completely different. Years ago I nearly poisoned Libby with a mushroom I picked in the wild. I swore that I'd never pick one again. Nevertheless, I've also heard that puff balls, sliced and fried with butter are very delicious. Dave and I found this giant fungus near South Mills, NC. It is about the size of a large cantaloupe. Can it be definitely identified as a non-poisonous puff ball?

From Fall 2010

Loss of A Landmark

Oriental Public Dock
35 01.50 N 076 41.74 W

We are at the Oriental Public Dock this morning. You can see us on the web cam here. However, we're hoping for a visit from Dave and Cathy this afternoon so we're going to move to the Oriental Marina next door where they have more ameneties. We'll be slightly out of the camera view on the left.

In February 2005, Libby and I started out on this grand adventure. We began with a long shopping trip to find a Westsail 32. We looked at 14 of them; Tarwathie was the best. The first two W32s on our itinerary were here in Oriental. We drove down from New York and got here early. While we were waiting for the broker to open, we discovered a wonderful store -- The Inland Waterway Provision Company. It was a cross between a clothes store and a West Marine. We loved it

Each successive visit to Oriental, we always shopped in The Provision Company. Well, we sadly learned yesterday that The Provision Company has closed its doors. It is a thing of the past. It marks the passage of an institution that thousands of East Coast Cruisers will sorely miss.

Oriental Harborcam

Here

Different Strokes

Neuse River, NC

34 57.74 N 076 46.85 W

It is generally acknowledged that the Westsail 32 is the finest cruising boat ever made for two people. Really, it's not just me saying that. However, we keep encountering other cruisers who choose very different vessels. Tiny 23 foot sailboats, trawlers, big 60 foot yachts, kayaks, even rowboats. Surely the most unique of all is the pontoon boat in the pictures below taken in Vergennes, Vermont.

The couple on board this vessel live near the Hudson in Schuylerville, NY. We first met them last year in Whitehall, NY. When we met them this year, they were just finishing a 9 week cruise through the Trent Severn, Rideau and Richelieu Canals in Canada. It sounds lovely. They really enjoyed themselves.

In conversation we learned that they've been cruising for many years, and that they have cruised on almost every inch of canalway and navigable river way in New York. Certainly because of their shallow draft, they can go very many places that Tarwathie can't. Indeed, in many respects, their pontoon boat is ideal for inland cruising in sheltered waters and mild weather.

What about winter? Simple, they only cruise in the balmy months of summer. They revert to land-based living the rest of the year.

What about living facilities? You know that I've written many times about the advantages of living with less stuff, and about avoiding clutter on board. This couple chooses the opposite approach. Canvas walls make their pontoon boat into a kind of housboat. From what we can see, they filled every cubic centimeter with stuff. It looks like they brought everything they own on board. It is extremely crowded inside. Remember though, they only do it for a few weeks at a time and only in good weather.

They tried camping on shore, but they soon got into trouble camping on private land. Then they got the idea of pitching their tent on the deck of the pontoon boat. That's their standard procedure now and for them it works well.

Well, we have to tip our hats to these intrepid cruisers. They are courageous and they take the prize for original thinking. Considering the limited duration, season, and range of their cruising, they found a simple, practical, and affordable form of cruising well suited to their needs. Kudos.

From Fall 2010

Hammered Lessons

New Bern, NC

35 05.92 N 077 02.56 W

I promised readers to post an analysis of what went wrong out at sea last week. In engineer's lingo, it would take the form of a list of "lessons learned" that lists the causes of the incident and how to avoid future repeats.

I've given it lots of thought. I made a considerable number of errors out there. I could analyze each error, derive a lesson to be learned, and write a post about it. I could probably generate a dozen interesting and readable blog posts from that material. (Believe me, that's tempting. I have to dig deeply to find fresh things to write about after 1,500 posts. I'm always on the lookout for "bloggable" material.)

Reluctantly, I conclude that a list of errors and lessons would prevent readers from seeing the forest through the trees. When a whole chain of errors occurs in a short time, one must question why. I'm afraid that the real answer is that the captain (me) has slowed down, lost drive and energy and has been letting maintenance and operation of this vessel get sloppy. Just before things started going to hell out there off the Delmarva, I recall sitting in the cockpit thinking, "I'm too old for this s..."

Believe me, this is a hard confession to make in public. It is, I guess, the burden of a frequent blogger. If I failed to write about it openly, readers would sense anyhow that something big was being obscured. The truth is, that I'll be 66 next week, and in the past year I've been slowing down physically and mentally. I delayed posting this message for a while because this kind of talk is often a symptom of depression. I've thought it through. I'm not depressed. I don't despair. Rather, I recognize the need to change and improve. I'm not too old, I'm too lazy. That can be fixed and I resolve to do it.

An old saw says, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." That's generally true but it can be overcome. Five years ago, I recall impressing myself and everyone else by the fierce determination and boundless energy I showed to abandon shore life and start the cruising life. I also recall frequently telling sailing newbies that if they didn't enjoy boat maintenance as much as the sailing, they have the wrong hobby. I need to re-awake that spirit.

As most people age, they are expected to slow down and society generally lowers expectations for what they are supposed to accomplish. There are exceptions, airline pilots are expect to perform at peak right up to retirement. So is it with sea captains. When we're out at sea, I'm the captain of this vessel even if I don't have a uniform, a certificate or an able bodied crew. My responsibilities are no less than the captain of a cruise liner.

So, how to go about it? I could make long, detailed and highly technical check lists and action item lists, and then discipline myself to live up to them. I could make a budget, say 10 hours per week, to work on boat and crew maintenance and upgrades regardless of what else is going on. I'm not sure yet of the best approach. I'd appreciate advice from geriatric readers (only) who've faced similar problems.

What about Libby? I haven't discussed it with her. Nor am I about to judge her performance here. The reality is that she generally follows my lead. If I'm energetic, she is. If I'm lazy, she is.

Swarm

The Alligator River

35 40.21 N 076 02.76 W

SWARM.  It sounds like the title of a horror B movie.  In this case it applies.

We motored all day yesterday from Columbia into the Alligator River.  At sunset, we pulled over to the side and anchored.  It was a very light wind night so there was no need for protected shelter.  In retrospect, we pulled over too much and got too close to the swamp (about 500 meters).

Soon after dark I was reading my book.  I heard a mosquito buzzing my head, so I brushed it away.  Then another, then another.   I stood up to get rid of them.  What I saw was horrifying.   We didn't have 2 or 3 bugs inside the cabin, we had 2 or 3 thousand!.  I've never seen anything like it.

We had the companionway door in, but we didn't have towels stuffed into the small gaps at the edges.   We had the hatches closed, but one was cracked a little bit.  That's all the bugs needed to get in.  I grabbed two fly swatters, enlisted Libby's help and I set about closing the boat tight even as we swatted.   

It was a hopeless task.  There were far to many to swat.  Besides, we were creating ugly black stains of squashed bug bodies everywhere we hit.  One very big blessing; they weren't mosquitoes but some kind of non-biting relative.  

I heard a strange noise.  I turned off the radio to hear better.  It was completely spooky. Outside was the buzz of a billion bugs swarming around the boat.  I shone the flashlight out the window.  Solid bugs covering everything outside near the places where light leaked out.  

Libby got out the flying insect spray.  I said, "Wait! We're inside an enclosed space. I have to remove the plastic covering the screen and start the fans before you spray."  To remove the plastic, I had to open the hatch for 5-10 seconds.  That allowed another 2000 to enter.  Oh my God, it was like the swarm scene in "The African Queen" 

Well, the insect spray proved to be very effective.   Within 3 minutes all the bugs inside the cabin were dead, and we had the openings sealed so that no more got in.  Libby and I inhaled almost zero.  We set out with brush and dustpan to clean up the bodies of dead bugs.  Yuck.  Then we had to wash down the interior surfaces to clean up bug goo.  Yuck.  

Finally, with chores done we could turn out the lights and go to bed early.   I didn't sleep easy though because of the buzz sound coming from outside.

This morning, I went out in the cockpit, and found a big mound of dead bugs in front of the companionway hatch.  There were thousands of them in a heap.   I grabbed a bucket and washed them overboard.  The rest of the boat was untouched.  Only those places where light leaked out attracted the bug.

We're not very fond of the Alligator River in the first place.  Now we have even more reason to dislike this place.

Do I have pictures?  Hell no!

One wonders about the early settlers and the Indians native to this region.   Were they able to find relatively bug free areas for villages?  Could they make dwellings that kept them out?   Did they just tolerate the bugs around their faces?  Historical accounts never discuss that subject.

More Than We Bargained For

Abemarle Sound

Ah, The Abemarle sound is much feared and respected by cruisers because of its reputation for bad weather and nasty waves.   Yesterday and today though it is still as a mill pond.  We're taking advantage of that.

We visited Columbia, NC yesterday.  We've never been there before.   It turned out that we got more than we bargained for.   

As we approached Columbia on the Scuppernong River we saw a very strange sight.  It was an ironclad, the Monitor or the Merrimack (I never remember which is which).  She was under power and heading straight at us.   It turns out that the vessel we saw is a 3/8 scale reproduction of the ironclad CSS Abemarle.   She was there for the Suppernong River Festival.   We normally avoid festivals and boat shows because of crowding.  No problem this time, we pulled right up to the city dock.

Columbia is a very cute, but very small southern City.  Normally, I suppose the adjective sleppy should apply.  Not today.  All the streets are full of people.  The festival probably attracted everybody from 25 miles around.  Libby and I had fun walking the streets and people watching.   The crowd was very happy, and family oriented.  We really enjoyed ourselves.   As a treat, we bought a blooming onion.   We love those, and we haven't seen blooming onions for sale since the Lobster Festival in Rockland, Maine.

In the evening, it turned out that Tarwathie gave us the best seat in the house to watch fireworks.   It was a great show, and we were close enough to feel each WHUMP in our chests as well as in our ears.  That makes it really fun.

After the fireworks, we were a little nervous.  The crowd cleared out except for a bunch of teen agers who were hanging out only feet away from Tarwathie.  We're not used to having people so close to the boat.   No problem though, they were well behaved and quiet and caused no trouble at all.

Now we're heading for the Alligator River.  Sorry, no sailing to Manteo or Ocracoke until our rigging is repaired.   To get there we have to take a big detour around a Marine Corps practice bombing range.  I don't think they bomb on Sundays, but we're not inclined to test that.

Cruisers: if you want to explore the Abemarle Sound, Columbia is a very nice stop, but Edenton is much better because of the many beautiful Antebellum houses in Edenton.

Alone Again

Abemarle Sound

36 04.89 N 076 07.59 W

Reluctantly, we said goodbye to David yesterday and let him return home.  It was a great pleasure having him aboard.  Dave is a gentleman through and through.  Even citizens of Elizabeth City said the same things about Dave.

I think Dave was surprised by the extent of the social live we enjoyed at Elizabeth City.  This was our 10th stop there.  By now we know a lot of people there.  Sadly, Fred Fearing, our favorite Rose Buddy passed away in 2007.   We also know many of the cruisers and we met several good cruising friends while there.   We also got to make some new friends who will be in Marathon this winter.  It really is a small connected world.

Libby took full advantage of the opportunity to do something every mother likes to do -- to spoil her son and shower him with kindness.   I got to ride along, and I have to say WOW; I haven't eaten so well for a whole week in many years.

Well, we have a week to get to Oriental to meet up with rigging parts in shipment.  We don't need a week to get there, so we have some time to kill.  We also have a window with delightfully warm and calm weather.   We're taking advantage of that to visit places we haven't seen before.

Today's destination is Columbia, NC.   It is off the Abemarle about 17 miles west of the ICW.   Tomorrow I'll report on how it was.

Live webcam

http://www.ecncweather.com/harborcam.php

Shows the Elizabeth City waterfront. Tarwathie should be visible. We will wave.

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Side Stay Failure

Pasquotank River

36 18.99 N 76 11.07 W

We've been having a couple of fine days at the welcome center and at our "secret" favorite anchorage on the Pasquotank. I've been neglecting the blog however. I know a lot of readers want to hear more about our bad experience at sea last weekend. I'll explain the biggest and scariest equipment failure today.

Absolutely the most frightening thing that ever happened to us on the boat was when the mast side stays fell down while at sea during a gale. I was scared to death that we would be dismasted, and we nearly were. Only good luck and solid Westsail construction prevented it from becoming a full scale disaster.

So what really happened? The mast on a W32 is supported by a forestay, a backstay, port and starboard cap stays, plus four sidestays, port and starboard. That is not to mention a staysail stay and two running backstays. A total of 11 stays if everything is deployed. In this case, we left our running backstays in Vermont, and I had temporarily removed the staysail stay to make it easier to gybe the jib (in retrospect I should have furled the jib and said with staysail only.) The cap stays go all the way to the top of the mast. The side stays fasten to the middle of the mast just under the spreader. They prevent the mast from bending like a bow.

The four side stays are fastened by a single bolt that goes all the way through the mast plus a nut on the far side. Stainless tangs adapt the stays to the bolted points. The nut is a 1/2" nylon locking nuts. In my experience, locking nuts never come loose accidentally, but in this case it did. When the nut fell off, the side stays on the port side fell to the deck. I believed that I still had support from the starboard stays so I changed course to keep the wind on the starboard side. It didn't do any good, the bolt pulled out most of the way, then it bent like a pretzel. The starboard side stays didn't fall down but they flopped loosely, not contributing any support to the mast.

From that moment, all the way in to save harbor, I was terrified by the actions of the mast. The mid part of the mast, near the spreaders, swayed about four inches from side to side, with every roll of the boat. Normally, the mast is rigidly attached and stayed and there is zero apparent motion of the mast relative to the boat.

I contacted Bud Taplin. Bud will send me replacement tangs, bolt and nut. Until then, I have some strong low-stretch lines from the spreaders to the chain plates to support and protect the mast. I won't sail at all until things are repaired.

Here are a few pictures. When everything is repaired and back in place I'll post a photo showing how it is supposed to look.

It is said that the W32 is the safest stoutest modern production boat ever built. I believe it. Nevertheless, loosing that nut is an extremely critical single-point failure mode. We lost four stays because of that one nut.

Why did the nut come off? I'll never know for sure. It is highly suspicious that only a few days before we used cranes to lower, then re-raise the mast. The ropes used for lifting snuggle right under those tangs. Suspicious as it is, the coincidence of timing is no proof of cause and effect. However, one thing I'll certainly to in the future is to make one last trip up and down the mast in a boatswain's chair for a re-inspection of all rigging after the mast is re-raised. We have had the mast down and up 10 times now; the first 9 times without problem. I'm afraid that I got too complacent about it.

The Fallen Port Side Stays From Fall 2010

The slack starboard side stays From Fall 2010

See the bolt and stays hanging under the spreader. From Fall 2010

A close up of the bolt and tangs before removal From Fall 2010

The bold and bent tangs after removal From Fall 2010

My analysis of lessons learned will take a few more days. I want to sleep on the lessons a few more days before publishing them.

What the doctor ordered

Dave steers us down the Dismal Swamp Canal. He's using my special rig to steer from the foredeck. I use it only on this canal.

This is the safest, most peaceful place we know. Just what we need today.

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Hammered (Again)

Norfolk, Virginia

36 50.33 N 076 17.55 W

The good part is that Libby and I and Tarwathie are safe and sound in port. Barely. The rest of the story is bad. Here's what happened in chronological order.

• Just before dawn on Sunday I saw our red-green navigation light blink and go out. That's bad. It is a critical element for safety at sea.
• The monitor self-steering blade wouldn't stay latched down.
• Saturday's forecast for Sunday called for 20-25 knot winds. Sunday morning's changed that to "gale warning." Oh shit. It was too late to do anything other than forge ahead.
• The storm came and made our life miserable. Cold, wet, and with aggressive seas. A half dozen times waves broke over the deck at the beam filling the cockpit with water. Twice, we got pooped, i.e. a wave broke over the stern filling the cockpit with water.
• I reduced sail to just a 50% furled jib. That was still too much.
• Libby looked green in the gills, so I told her to stay below while I held the helm. The self steering wasn't enough. I couldn't let go for a second. I got only 2 hours sleep in 48 hours.
• After several hours of pounding I sensed something terribly wrong. I called for Libby to take the helm and I went forward to inspect. What I found was that the two side stays on the port side had come dis-attached from the mast. Only the third stay, the cap stay was holding the mast up. We were in terrible danger of being dismasted.
• I furled the rest of the jib and started the motor. Now we were running with bare poles and power. I went below to inspect the engine. The pan under the engine was full of sea water. When the cockpit was filled with water 8 times, the rubber seal that makes the cockpit floor waterproof leaked. We were without the ability to sail, if we now lost power too, it would be serious indeed. Fortunately, diesel engines aren't bothered much by being wet.
• Entering The Chesapeake Bay at 0200, I put out our battery operated red-green navigation light. It's batteries only lasted 2 hours, we needed 5 hours.
• Once in the lee of Cape Charles, we were spared the biggest of the big waves. Still is was very rough. Winds were up to 37 knots.
• Once inside Hampton Roads harbor, we were past all the waves. I relaxed and let Libby take the helm. I went below to get warm. I was chilled to the core and shivering.
• A tug boat nearly ran us down because we had only white lights, no red-green. Remember, in an urban setting like Norfolk, there are lights everywhere. It is very hard to discern the ones on land from ones on the water. Libby nearly panicked. I tried to hail him on the the handheld VHF radio it didn't work; it had failed too for the first time ever. Only a panic full speed reverse prevented a collision with the tug. (p.s. The tug did see us after passing close by. Big help that is.)
• The GPS chart plotter stopped working. Libby tried to navigate by blinking red and green lights all around. Norfolk though is a maze of intersecting channels, one sees red and green in every direction. Soon she got lost and we nearly ran aground in shallow water.
• I rescued us with our backup, the chart plotter program on my Driod phone. I worked great and we got back into the proper channel. Then I discovered the problem that caused the GPS to fail in the first place. Libby put a pair of water logged gloves down on top of the GPS sensor. They blocked the GPS signal from the sattelites.
• I went to raise the monitor blade. The line used to lift the blade had come untied.

Good grief. What a string of failures and problems. The one with the mast was deadly serious. We're very fortunate that we Ldidn't lose the mast. I inspected it this morning, it was caused by a nut that came loose from a bolt. I'll write more later about the details of these mishaps and the lessons to be learned.

For now, I can truthfully say that this was the first time on a sailboat that I was scared for our lives (excepting an incident with an International 14 racing dinghy years ago). It was fear and adrenalin that kept me going 46 of 48 hours and I had begun thinking about calling for Coast Guard rescue.

Thankfully, today we're in a marina in Norfolk. We had hot showers, long naps, a big lunch, and used the dryers to dry mounds and mounds of wet clothes.

Tonight David comes to meet us and tomorrow we'll be in the tranquil security of the Dismal Swamp Canal. Good, that's just what we need.

Look forward to many future posts about yesterday's events. My mind is roiling with analysis and soul searching.

Bottom line, we're safe and sound, the boat is whole. However, we're thoroughly shaken.

Hammered (Again)

Norfolk, Virginia

36 50.33 N 076 17.55 W

The good part is that Libby and I and Tarwathie are safe and sound in port. Barely. The rest of the story is bad. Here's what happened in chronological order.

• Just before dawn on Sunday I saw our red-green navigation light blink and go out. That's bad. It is a critical element for safety at sea.
• The monitor self-steering blade wouldn't stay latched down.
• Saturday's forecast for Sunday called for 20-25 knot winds. Sunday morning's changed that to "gale warning." Oh shit. It was too late to do anything other than forge ahead.
• The storm came and made our life miserable. Cold, wet, and with aggressive seas. A half dozen times waves broke over the deck at the beam filling the cockpit with water. Twice, we got pooped, i.e. a wave broke over the stern filling the cockpit with water.
• I reduced sail to just a 50% furled jib. That was still too much.
• Libby looked green in the gills, so I told her to stay below while I held the helm. The self steering wasn't enough. I couldn't let go for a second. I got only 2 hours sleep in 48 hours.
• After several hours of pounding I sensed something terribly wrong. I called for Libby to take the helm and I went forward to inspect. What I found was that the two side stays on the port side had come dis-attached from the mast. Only the third stay, the cap stay was holding the mast up. We were in terrible danger of being dismasted.
• I furled the rest of the jib and started the motor. Now we were running with bare poles and power. I went below to inspect the engine. The pan under the engine was full of sea water. When the cockpit was filled with water 8 times, the rubber seal that makes the cockpit floor waterproof leaked. We were without the ability to sail, if we now lost power too, it would be serious indeed. Fortunately, diesel engines aren't bothered much by being wet.
• Entering The Chesapeake Bay at 0200, I put out our battery operated red-green navigation light. It's batteries only lasted 2 hours, we needed 5 hours.
• Once in the lee of Cape Charles, we were spared the biggest of the big waves. Still is was very rough. Winds were up to 37 knots.
• Once inside Hampton Roads harbor, we were past all the waves. I relaxed and let Libby take the helm. I went below to get warm. I was chilled to the core and shivering.
• A tug boat nearly ran us down because we had only white lights, no red-green. Remember, in an urban setting like Norfolk, there are lights everywhere. It is very hard to discern the ones on land from ones on the water. Libby nearly panicked. I tried to hail him on the the handheld VHF radio it didn't work; it had failed too for the first time ever. Only a panic full speed reverse prevented a collision with the tug. (p.s. The tug did see us after passing close by. Big help that is.)
• The GPS chart plotter stopped working. Libby tried to navigate by blinking red and green lights all around. Norfolk though is a maze of intersecting channels, one sees red and green in every direction. Soon she got lost and we nearly ran aground in shallow water.
• I rescued us with our backup, the chart plotter program on my Driod phone. I worked great and we got back into the proper channel. Then I discovered the problem that caused the GPS to fail in the first place. Libby put a pair of water logged gloves down on top of the GPS sensor. They blocked the GPS signal from the sattelites.
• I went to raise the monitor blade. The line used to lift the blade had come untied.

Good grief. What a string of failures and problems. The one with the mast was deadly serious. We're very fortunate that we Ldidn't lose the mast. I inspected it this morning, it was caused by a nut that came loose from a bolt. I'll write more later about the details of these mishaps and the lessons to be learned.

For now, I can truthfully say that this was the first time on a sailboat that I was scared for our lives (excepting an incident with an International 14 racing dinghy years ago). It was fear and adrenalin that kept me going 46 of 48 hours and I had begun thinking about calling for Coast Guard rescue.

Thankfully, today we're in a marina in Norfolk. We had hot showers, long naps, a big lunch, and used the dryers to dry mounds and mounds of wet clothes.

Tonight David comes to meet us and tomorrow we'll be in the tranquil security of the Dismal Swamp Canal. Good, that's just what we need.

Look forward to many future posts about yesterday's events. My mind is roiling with analysis and soul searching.

Bottom line, we're safe and sound, the boat is whole. However, we're thoroughly shaken.

Hudson Canyon

At sea
40 15.77 N 073 58.12 W

Our offshore weather forecasts talk about the area between Hudson Canyon and Baltimore Canyon. Ever heard of them? I read a geology book that explains it.

During an ice age the ocean level was 400 feet lower than today. The Hudson ran down over the exposed continental shelf and carved a canyon the length and depth of the Grand Canyon. If you look at the ocean version of Google Earth you can see it. I think that's very cool.

We are just off the Jersey coast. First time I wrote an article and posted it offshore with my Droid.

Just got a call from Dave. He will meet us in Norfolk on monday night and sail with us to Elisabeth City. :)

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No Doubt

Liberty State Park, NJ
40 41.69 N 074 03.77 W

Nobody this planet can doubt where we're anchored tonight. Look carefully at the green object sticking up in the sky at the left.

Today was a miserable day as the long tail of storm Nicole passed. Blustery, chilly and wet. The winds were fine for departure for Norfolk, but the seas were still 13 feet. We decided to wait till tomorrow to give the seas a chance to settle down.

I intended anchoring at Sandy Hook, NJ tonight but I totally misjudged the distance. After getting underway around 1230 I programmed a waypoint for Sandy Hook. To my surprise, it said 37 nautical miles to go. I guess my head still isn't around how big the NY metropolitan area is. It is even 11 miles from the George Washington Bridge to The Statue Of Liberty.

We admired New York as we passed by just at rush hour: 1700. I remarked that there were 25 million people out there, all on the move as work got out. Yet from the river, we couldn't see a single person. Sure enough we saw cars, trucks and boats. The sidewalks of NY must have been teeming with humanity but we couldn't see them. Libby and I made a game of it. We saw a total of four people. Two jogging two walking dogs. If a SF writer put that in a book, we wouldn't believe him.

Anyhow, the sky and the sunset are particularly beautiful looking out over Tony Soprano territory near Newark Airport. That sounds incongruous doesn't it? By the way, if you watch the opening film that starts each episode of The Sopranos, you'll see a glimpse of where Tarwathie is right now.

Tomorrow at 0558, the tide should turn and help propel us out through the Verrazano Narrows.