May 8, 2006  Leaving Fernandina Beach, FL


May 8, 2006  Another Hitch Hiker while offshore to Brunswick, GA

While off shore heading north in less than pleasant conditions, we were once again joined by a very tired feathered fellow traveler.  I was about to fix lunch for a hungry captain.  I'd handed him the vegetable remnants I'd culled from our garbage to be discarded overboard as requested by our Immigration and Customs official when I noticed a LBB (little brown bird) sitting next to him.

Thus began the latest saga of Hitch Hiker's Anonymous.  This poor creature was cold and tired.  It had been sprinkling for a while and was  starting to rain harder, and as they say, any port in a storm.  While other friends have spent time with us, this was starting to look like a case of adoption.

Once on board, she hopped under the dodger, tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep, feathers all awry, shivering with exhaustion in the cold rain.  I think it was an immature female yellow rumped warbler, but the birds never look quite like they do in the book.  Anyway, I told her she was welcome to join us for a ride to shore.  We managed to round up a fly or two, but she was so tired that rest was more important than food.  (I'm familiar with that feeling too!)  Eventually she saw the flies and they quickly disappeared, but mostly she spent the day with her head under her wing.

As we entered St. Simons Sound I expected her to depart.  Since we finished up the last of our bread at lunch, I'd started a batch, and as I began the baking process, she discovered the hatch over the galley with the heat rising from the stove and decided sitting on the screen over the hatch was the place to be.  She was still shivering and I was concerned about her survival, so I cut up a raisin and scattered that on the deck since if she did happen to be a yellow rump, they eat fruit as well as bugs.  She'd been getting drinks from the rain running off the dodger.  She spent time pecking at the raisin and getting less skittish around us.  She also discovered the main hatch cover which I'd put under the dodger when we washed the boat, and decided that made a nice nest like spot for a nap.

It finally stopped raining after we anchored, and I figured she'd soon be gone, but when we came out to eat our dinner, she joined us, pecking at the raisin and catching bugs.  She hopped into our empty salad bowl to see if we'd left her a few tidbits, pecking at the little pieces on the side of the bowl.  She also made a brief tour of the cabin, and when I last checked, was once again sound asleep in the hatch cover under the dodger.  She's welcome to sign on for the duration, but I'm not sure we'll make it north in time for nesting.  We'll have to see if she's still with us in the morning.  At least she seems to be gaining strength with the rest and food, so with luck she'll make it.

I was sad and relieved to find our latest hitch hiker had departed by morning, having graced our craft with a few small reminders of her presence. While I wouldn't mind having a personal bug catcher, she deserved  more in life than that. I hope she finds feathered friends for companionship and has many successful years of nesting and migration.  I was honored that she chose Antares for a refuge and stayed with us until we got her to shore.  Maybe we'll meet again on another trip.

Plans to go offshore to Charleston were scrapped with the forecast for 15 knot winds from the NE.  They even got the forecast correct!  So rather than bounce from wave to wave, we did the ICW for the day.  It was a gray, damp day with temperatures in the 60's causing us to don jeans and jackets, the first time we've needed more than shorts to be comfortable since we left Florida in March.  The sky threatened showers most of the day, but they never materialized beyond an occasional bit of mist.

The Georgia coastal landscape was beautiful, especially since it's not developed with high rise condo developments, and we spotted wood cranes, ibis, terns and gulls along the marshes as we motored along.  The other boat that had been anchored by us at Brunswick was content to follow us most of the day, giving us a chance to find the channel or the shoals to avoid.  Most folks tend to motor faster than we do, so we weren't surprised when they chose to pass us on one of the Sounds in mid afternoon.  We'd been following them about 10 minutes when Leonard commented that things might get interesting a head of us.  When headed north in the ICW the red marks are kept to port and the greens to starboard. The boat ahead was approaching a couple of greens as if to keep them to port.  It wasn't clear if he realized his error before going aground or glanced at the depth gauge in time.  He did an abrupt stop and about face, getting back into the channel just in front of us.  Life can be easier when you can follow someone else!

While there are few marinas in this part of Georgia, there are lots of places to anchor.  Many don't offer a lot of protection in bad weather but are interesting when things are settled.  The likelihood of getting the afternoon thundershowers that were forecast was slim since the sun hadn't come out to heat things up, so we had a lot of possibilities from which to choose.  Three more sailboats were slowly catching up with us and from the VHF conversations we heard were planning on joining a number of other boats already at anchor at the place we were thinking about exploring.  We decided to try Redbird Creek, a bit further on, rather than be all bunched up.  There were 2 boats close to the entrance of Redbird so we went past them around the first turn and found a peaceful anchorage for the night.

We waited until morning to get the latest weather update on the computer before finalizing our travel plans for the day.  The winds were to be E or SE, going to the S later in the day which would make for a decent offshore hop to Charleston.  It would take 2 long days if we did the ICW, alternating between good and opposing currents every few miles and dealing with shoals and power boats in close quarters.  The offshore hop would get us to Charleston wee hours of the morning, not ideal, but we used that channel a number of times and have anchored in the harbor.  This would also get us into port before the thunderstorms which were forecast on Thursday, so we rode the ebb tide out the Ossawbaw Sound.

The winds weren't quite as forecast making it more of a beat, but the waves and swell were small and we made better time than anticipated. This was a good thing since a review of the weather radar on the computer showed a line of weather to the west.  The only excitement of the day was spotting a tree bobbing off port side.  At first glance it looked like a pelican or cormorant with wings spread out, but a look through the binoculars identified it as a tree.  That would make quite a thunk if it was hit, or could ruin a prop.

Although the moon was about 3/4ths full providing us with some light during the night, it spent a fair amount of the time sliding behind greasy looking clouds that drizzled on us occasionally.  It certainly wasn't a beautiful star filled night.  Another check of the weather radar on the computer showed a line of weather moving toward the coast, so when the wind stopped moving us at a reasonable speed we turned on the motor. While it would have been nice to take advantage of the tide which would begin flooding around 0130, the thought of thundershowers as we were approaching the entrance to Charleston was far less attractive than dealing with opposing current.

Our entrance was easy once we realized the buoy flash patterns and numbers had been changed.  Identifying the ranges that guide you into the harbor was obvious once we realized some of the ranges used green rather than white lights.  It would have been nice if the entrance and harbor chart were on one page, but since the chart book is targeted mainly for the ICW, it is in 4 segments on 3 different pages with very little overlap.

There was almost no traffic, only one other boat headed into the harbor after we were most of the way in, so dodging traffic or dealing with wakes wasn't a problem.  There was one sport fisherman heading out using a high power spotlight to find buoys as we approached the general area where we wanted to anchor.  Those bright flashes not only mess up night vision, they actually hurt when the light blinds you.  We've never figured out why they don't use binoculars which work fine for spotting marks.

The wind which had been light when we started in was now blowing in the upper teens so we anchored not far from a moored boat in the lee of the south shore.  There was a moment of excitement when I spotted a trap bobber just off the bow as I prepared to drop the anchor.  We hadn't seen any before, but it was green and blended perfectly with the shadows in the waves.  Luckily we missed it, wrapping a line around the prop at 0230 was definitely not on our wish list!  It was just before 0300 when we crawled into our bunk for a few hours sleep before  heading to a marina in the morning.

We planned on getting to the Ashley Marina once the tide had gone down enough to make the fixed 55 foot bridge not a problem.  We'd also been in contact with Bob and Michele Lyman who were heading north in their boat, Friendship, and they planned to join us in Charleston for a night.  We spent several hours getting the boat cleaned up.  We'd done a quick rinse at Fernandina Beach, but we got splashed again on the journey north, and it was time to do a real cleaning.

The marina changed hands recently, going dockominium with some space reserved for transients.  They no longer have their "welcome" bag of Charleston brochures and a little bottle of wine, but they upgraded the laundry room to new front loading washers and new dryers which were free.  The only problem was the washers took an hour to do a load.

We were invited to Friendship for dinner with Michele and Bob.  They were tied up on the main dock across from a 120 foot megayacht.  The wind had been blowing and gusting all day ahead of an approaching cold front, and Bob was having problems keeping the gas grill hot enough in the breeze to cook the meat.  After he resorted to using a deck chair to shield the grill, the captain of the megayacht invited him over to use his "barbie", so Bob and Leonard went over to finish cooking dinner. Michele and I were invited over to inspect the meat and see how the other half lives.  The "barbie" was befitting a megayacht, one of those really big ones you see in the cooking magazines that do everything and could roast a pig.  It was on the upper deck, reached by 2 spiral staircases.

Captain Robin was very interesting.  He had been born in South Africa and grew up in Australia among other places and traveled with his dad.  At 18 he crossed the Atlantic and had worked on boats since then.  He and his wife run the ship and manage the crew for an owner who spends a few weeks a year on board.  They had just come up from Palm Beach, a 30 hour run for them, and had arrived shortly before we got to the marina.

He regaled us with tales of life as a private yacht captain.  When the previous owner sold the boat, he also "sold" the captain and mate with it, explaining that the increase in salary would more than offset any inconvenience.  When I asked what the owner did, he assured me he'd have to kill me if he told, but a reference to the Annenbergh (Foundation) was made.  One story involved a 2 hour cruise where they took 51 wives of pro golfers for a tour of the Charleston harbor while their husbands played in a tournament.  The owner had flown the women in on his private plane, arranged ground transportation to the boat and then had them picked up by horse carriage for a town tour before flying them back.

Michele asked fuel usage - 50 gallons an hour (at $3 per gallon) - which she  compared to the Queen Elizabeth that gets 6 inches to the gallon.  The boat cost $11 million, and he said the owner should expect to spend 10% of the purchase price per year for expenses.  This owner planned on getting a bigger yacht.  Somehow all the zeros make my head spin, maybe that's why we don't have that life style.  We weren't given an interior tour which is probably just as well, since we might feel cramped back aboard our respective vessels.

Michele and Bob left the next day while we took a day off, we'd done everything but the reprovisioning.  We spent the day walking through town.  The heady smell of jasmine was everywhere, and the gardens full of flowers.  A lot of reconstruction was underway on the older homes with building permits in evidence everywhere.  It was a beautiful sunny day for walking the streets of Charleston.  The architecture and gardens always amaze me.

We did a major reprovisioning run at the store.  It's nice to shop at U.S. prices again.  Everything in the Bahamas has a hefty duty charge for importation rather than an income tax, which quickly adds up when you shop.  We didn't spend less, just got more! We were glad the marina still offered the van service since we'd bought way more than we could carry back.  The van driver was interesting too, an plane mechanic for the Air Force who took a second job to help defray his boating expenses.  Now he has the cash, but not the time and is looking forward to retirement in a couple of years.  He lives aboard a boat at the marina and talked about the different tours he's done in the military.

We walked over to the city marina after dinner to see if the Sabre 38 was still on the dock at St. Barts Yachts.  We met the people who just bought it, and watched them take gear on board for their maiden voyage. A salesmen, before retiring the from St. Barts Oriental office, had just made his final sale to his brother-in-law.  They planned on heading offshore heading north, so maybe we'll see her again.  Reasonable Advantage III, A Beneteau 47  belonging to our boat's previous owner, was also on the dock.  Sometimes it is a very small world.

Our plans underwent a minor change after Leonard checked the weather on the computer.  We'd planned on riding the ebb tide out the harbor in mid morning and heading for Wrightsville Beach or Beaufort, NC, a 1 or 2 night hop.  Instead we slid under the 55 foot bridge before high tide (full moon) about 8 this morning with inches of clearance for the antennas atop the mast.  I knew we'd clear when a dolphin sounded at our bow just before we reached the bridge.  With our earlier departure, we cleared the bridge easily but had some current against us going out the channel.

We'll see how far we get before we head back toward shore. I'm sorry to miss stopping at Caper's Island on this leg, but it makes sense to take advantage of the weather to make some distance toward Vermont.  The winds are to fill in today from the west, so hopefully we'll have a good sail.  If it doesn't cloud over, there should be a full moon to brighten things up at night.

After clearing the bridge just past the Ashley Marina our latest offshore hop was relatively uneventful.  The winds were not as strong as the day before, or quite as strong as forecast, but the direction was better than it's been.  We motor sailed until the winds picked up enough around 1400 to keep us moving at a reasonable speed.

Our definition of reasonable speed has changed over the years. In past years on the lake it was anything that got us moving on Gulf Wind.  Then Leonard instituted the 2 knot rule unless we were just out for a leisurely sail. Now, when we do our offshore hops, we have an even lower threshold since most of the time it is safer to enter harbors and get to an anchorage in daylight. Weather forecasts, however inaccurate they may be, also need to be considered.  We don't feel the need to test ourselves in severe weather or bash to windward when such conditions can be avoided.  Occasionally these conditions can't be avoided, but we don't plan it that way so sometimes we use the engine in an attempt to beat them.

On this trip the weather was a consideration with a cold front due to come through the area Sunday afternoon or evening.  There aren't any convenient inlets before Beaufort once we start that direction. Wrightsville Beach would be an option if we head north after rounding Frying Pan Shoals at Cape Fear.  This time the best option was to try and beat the weather since the next day's forecast was for the possibility of more thunderstorms and rain.

With following winds and seas we made our way toward Frying Pan Shoals. The full moon popped out of the Atlantic around 2100, a fat orange globe.  We seemed to be the only boat out there, although we listened to a boat who'd lost their engine awaiting a tow.  The Coast Guard was monitoring the situation and we heard them talking to both boats at regular intervals.  We passed one sailboat motoring south in the wee hours of the morning.  After daylight numerous little boats were out fishing in the growing seas.

Breakfast was delayed due a performance by a large group of dolphins. By this time the seas had built to 4 - 5 feet and several of the dolphins would shoot ahead, turn around and then leap from wave top to wave top toward us, swim along side a while and then do a repeat.  This year was the first time we'd seen them leap out of the water like this - we'd had a couple doing flips in the Georgia ICW behind the boat.  They stayed with us for at least 30 minutes, and one big dolphin did a belly flop alongside the boat sending spray flying.  The Mother's Day show was greatly appreciated since we hadn't attracted any feathered hitch hikers on this leg to entertain us.

We were sailing almost directly down wind and dropped the main to keep it from jibing in the seas.  We poled the jib out and the autopilot managed to handle waves without too much of a problem.  While the autopilot doesn't react as quickly as we can, but it is tiring to hand steer as the boat surges down the waves, and when we get tired our reaction time isn't necessarily all that much better.

Another boat sailed into view shortly after we ate.  It was a cutter rig with 2 foresails and had all sails up but the jibs weren't poled out so he had problems keeping all the sails filled.  Surprisingly we actually pulled away from him using just our jib.  It appeared that he was headed for Beaufort too.

The seas were slowly growing in size as the SW winds continued.  As we dropped into the troughs, the horizon was walls of water all around us.  Every now and then the top of one would curl behind us and we'd float up then surge down the face of it.  Leonard said he saw the GPS (speed over the ground) hit 11 knots briefly.  It regularly approached 10 knots, but the speed dropped back to 5 - 6 knots on the ride up.  The boat tends to rock and roll in these conditions which makes me wish I had Shiva's arms when I fix meals since I could use extra hands to hold things down while others could put things together while I used another few to keep me in place!

There were clouds building west of us and severe weather watches were being issued, but conditions around us weren't threatening.  We heard the boat behind us call Tow Boat U.S. arranging a jump start for his batteries when he reached the entrance channel.  Somehow, even with a working wind generator, he had drained his batteries and couldn't start the engine.  The tow boat operator didn't think they could safely get a jump start to him under the sea conditions.  But the tow boat was waiting at the inlet and made a pass by us to see if we were the boat that needed help as we entered.

The waves got bigger in the channel and were breaking on the shoals outside of the channel.  We had a very fast ride in with a boost from the tidal current.  Throughout the entire trip we'd managed to avoid splashing our freshly washed boat with salt water.  The trip in took care of that when the wind increased and blew spray from the waves everywhere.

Leonard opted to roll the jib in and use the engine to go through the railroad and highway bridges rather than try to sail through.  We had talked about anchoring in Taylor Creek in front of Beaufort for the night, but figured between the wind, current, weather and lots of other boats it might be a less than restful night.  When the way points were plugged into the GPS they showed we would be able to go another 15 miles to a quieter anchorage and arrive before dark, so we made use of the tide and kept on going.

We arrived with dire predictions of tornado warnings all around us.  We managed to bury the hook with a number of others already there and watched clouds skirt around us to the north and south.  A weather radar check on the computer indicated we probably would be missed.  We were grateful for the quiet night although the GPS did go off once during the night due to poor satellite coverage.  It had been 230 miles in 36 hours and no opening bridges, not bad for a Mother's Day sail!  We heard a Coast Guard report that the Onslow Beach Bridge on the ICW was closed due to high winds until further notice and were glad to have missed that hassle.

With forecasts for SW winds for most of the week we decided to sail inside the Outer Banks instead of doing the usual sounds and land cuts. If there's space on the park dock at Ocracoke I'll use my "old folks" card for 1/2 price dockage and we'll get to take a walk in town.  If the weather holds as predicted we'll try the passage to Roanoke Island - it's a cut with a 7 foot controlling depth - and spend the a night in Manteo.  It's another interesting town I've wanted to see by boat but the weather in past years hasn't cooperated.  If we manage that, the only opening bridges we'll have to go through are the ones going into Norfolk, and the only way to miss them is to go outside of Cape Hatteras.

We had a rather spirited ride on the Pamlico Sound that called for reefing the main when the wind kicked up around various cells of clouds.  We had steady winds in the upper 20's to mid 30's which quickly raised a nasty chop on the shallow water.  How did we miss this in the forecast (SW 10 - 15)?.  Once we skirted the reef by the channel entrance and headed into the wind to get into Ocracoke, we resorted to motoring and got lots of spray.  We took one good dousing of water through the forward hatch which wasn't securely latched so now I'll need to wash the sheets sooner than I anticipated.

We arrived safely at Ocracoke in the afternoon.  It was still very windy and even though Silver Lake, the little harbor in town where the ferries arrive, was very secure, the winds were still howling when we docked. After committing to a dock and we were backing in, we saw all the posts held signs that said that section was reserved.  This unexpected detail, along with the wind taking control of the boat when we tried to slow down, caused a less than graceful docking than usual.  Fortunately there was someone on the dock who assisted.  When I went to check in I was informed it really was reserved, for 3 weeks, by the barge we saw dredging a channel south of us as we came in the channel.  So we moved to the other side of the dock.  The dredge arrived while we were washing our new salt accumulation off the boat.  He definitely didn't look like he would have shared that side of the dock with us.

Hoping the wind will be less boisterous in the morning,  we planned on an early departure to head for Manteo on Roanoke Island.  Our walk after dinner showed the sidewalks had already been rolled up for the night. Only a few restaurants and a variety store were open.  I guess it's still not high season here.

We must have lucked out heading up the Outer Banks.  Shortly after entering the skinny channel depicted in the guide books (7 feet), we skirted around a dredge and had a newly dredged, much deeper channel into Manteo on Roanoke Island.  While it would be a very sloppy trip if the wind had been on our nose and blowing, it ws an interesting alternative to the Alligator River and Alligator Pungo Canal and skipped the Alligator Bridge.  If the wind's blowing hard enough, there's the possibility that the bridge won't open leaving you in a quandary looking for an anchorage since there aren't any close by the bridge and the one marina has limited depths on the approach and it's on the other side of bridge.

Manteo lays claim to being the first English settlement in America which mysteriously disappeared, known as the Lost Colony. The town is very transient friendly.  We stayed at a marina since there isn't any place to anchor, and found friendly folks on the dock to give a hand.  The more touristy part of town was right by the docks, and a short walk took us out to the main road where we found the a reasonable market and hardware store.  There was a boardwalk along the waterfront and a bridge that takes you to park offices and a view of the sound.  In the morning we took time for another walk since it would be a short day from Manteo to Coinjock, our stop for the night.  The trip to Coinjock was uneventful with light winds and we motor sailed most of the way.

Leaving Coinjock, we were up bright and early to get underway.  The bridges and one lock between Coinjock and Norfolk are difficult to time right, and if you get delayed too long, the bridges just south of Norfolk have restricted times during rush hour when they don't open. There was enough wind to sail up Currituck Sound until the twists and turns of the river began.  Shortly after we got underway, a bald eagle swooped down to the water by the side of the boat to snatch a fish. They are impressive birds to watch.

We were one in a line of boats stretched out over several miles, heading north.  The power boats sped past, and at the very end of the line was a tug with 2 barges.  The power fleet and several of the bigger sail boats cleared the first bridge, leaving 4 of us waiting for the next opening.  Last fall several of the bridges that had been "on demand"  switched to scheduled openings, usually on the hour and half hour.  Since those of us waiting for the opening were grouped closely together just off the bridge, Leonard called the bridge tender to see if she'd open early. She had no sense of humor, saying we could all wait until it was time, and then delayed the opening a couple of minutes.  The other skippers all gave him an "A" for effort.

The tug and barge didn't present a problem until we approached Great Bridge which was a timed bridge followed by a lock a short distance beyond.  The lock tender made a call on the VHF saying she'd hoped we yachties had been listening on the radio, or we'd get a surprise.  The bridge would open to pass us through, but the lock would have a red light.  The tug and barges would enter the lock first and, if space allowed, as many of us that could fit alongside could then enter the lock. We needed to allow the barges to pass once we cleared the bridge.  Just about then, one of the sail boats close to us, a single hander, wrapped a line around his prop and was dead in the water, center channel, as the barges approached.  The rest of us made for the bridge.  The tug captain, upon realizing that the sailboat really was disabled, managed to maneuver the barges close enough to shore to miss him.  There was a marina right there, and someone had hustled out to give him a tow to the dock as the barges cleared him.

Once through the bridge, all the boats scattered to get out of the way of the barges.  There was a dock on port side that could accommodate a few boats and several went that way and had some difficulty getting secured in the wind.  One trawler pushed past us and ducked into a government only dock area.  Leonard decided to keep as far right as he could until the barges had cleared us, and then followed the barge slowly toward the lock.  We got permission to enter the lock and tied up on the opposite side from the barges, but further forward.  It was several firsts for us.  We had no power boat exhaust blowing in our faces, and we were locking through with commercial traffic.  Two of the other sail boats tied up behind us.  The rest of the boats that had tied to the side dock decided to wait for the next lock opening which would be an hour's wait.

The lock master told us to exit the lock ahead of the barges and go and we did.  We managed to keep ahead of the barge through several more bridges, then the other 2 boats pulled over to let him pass.  As we approached each bridge, Leonard called the tug captain and was told to get on through the bridge.  At one bridge, the tender was trying to keep to the 30 minute schedule since we were only about 5 minutes early, but the tug captain explained he was having problems keeping the barges, which were empty, under control in the wind and he wanted it open, PLEASE. Commercial traffic doesn't have to wait for schedules, and, unless there are emergency vehicles on the road, the bridge opens.  The tug captain had to back and fill to get the barges turned through one of the bridges. It was a bit of a turn and the wind had caught the front of the barges which were acting as sails.  We were to the last bridge before we slowed to let him pass.

Although it was early when we arrived in Norfolk, we stopped for the night after taking on fuel.  Leonard enjoys watching the constant flow of river traffic past the anchorage at Hospital Point and it would be another 3 to 4 hours before we'd get to a decent anchorage further north.  The weather was a bit iffy too, with thundershowers in the offing, and the thought of being able to go below and stay dry was appealing.

Bright and early the next morning we headed north.  The forecast for the next few days called for W or SW winds 15 - 20 and gusty.  We had quite a sail, trying to keep off the shoals, but stay as close to the western shore as we could to keep out of the building seas.  We'd heard from Greg Eurich, a friend from LCYC who'd also gone south last fall and was having his boat hauled in Deltaville that morning, and made plans to meet him in Jackson Creek in the evening.

We managed to sail most of the way, well reefed down with the wind going between moderate and heavy and back.  It's hard to shorten sail enough when the winds blow in the 30's, especially if the fetch is long enough to allow the waves to build.  When we were approaching Deltaville, it really started to blow and after one wave slid under the dodger and trickled into the cabin, we decided we'd had enough, having sailed a good 40 miles all ready, and dropped the sails.  I wasn't sure how I'd get the batch of bread I'd started finished if I was leaning at 45 degrees!  It was high tide when we twisted our way into Jackson Creek and dropped the hook off the marina where Greg was storing his boat.

The next problem was opening "Uncle Bob", a non marine lock we got at Uncle Bob's Storage units when we stored our boat gear on Jacksonville before we moved on board in 2003.  We've been using it to lock the outboard.  We've been dousing it with anti-corrosive spray, trying to keep ahead of the rust, and have always managed to get it open.  Leonard thought it was just me, until he found he couldn't get the key to turn either.  After using vice grips, hammer, screw drivers and the hack saw with intermittent sprays of anti-corrosive spray, he finally pried it apart.  Now we can use the replacement, a marine lock we got last fall, and I'm glad we didn't need the outboard in a hurry when it seized. We spent a pleasant evening with Greg comparing notes and adventures over dinner.

Another early morning start got us headed toward Solomon's Island where we planned on reprovisioning for the journey up the Hudson.  It was another day of winds cycling on the moderate to heavy, with reefing and rolling in and out of the jib.  There were fewer boats back in the anchorage off the dinghy dock at Solomon's than last fall when the weather had been bad, so there was plenty of room for us.

With the 'fridge filled again, and an even earlier start, we hoped to get as far north on the Chesapeake as possible before the next cold front came through and the winds switched from SW to NW and blew. The winds were forecast to be gusting into the 30's again both before and after the frontal passage.  The possibility for rain was slight however, although the boat could have used a freshwater rinse to remove some of the salt we acquired.  We'd rather put the NW winds to use riding down the Delaware than to deal with them head on going up the Bay.

Leaving Solomons on Sunday, the winds filled in once we got out on the Bay and, other than a few lulls, steadily blew us north up the Chesapeake at record speeds.  It helped that we had the current with us almost all day. During the afternoon the Coast Guard announced the wind switch with the cold front to alert boaters who hadn't tuned in NOAA. The 25 plus knots of SW wind we'd been riding all day would make an abrupt change to the NW at similar speeds with higher gusts. The thought of bashing into NW winds at those speeds the next day, even for a few hours, made Chesapeake City on the C&D Canal a logical stopping point for the night.  We would be done heading north until after Cape May, and it offers good protection. We were happy to find that the shoal at the entrance had been removed since our fall 2004 stop, making it less worrisome to get in and out.  It also helped that we arrived and left at high tide.

We'd spoken to Shell Rieley during the day and learned we'd both spent the Saturday night at Solomon's, only in different creeks!  He was making a crew change in Baltimore Sunday afternoon, and thought he might reach Chesapeake City that night.  When they didn't appear in the anchorage we figured the changeover had taken longer than expected.

Another dawn start took us through the canal at just about slack current, and got us to the Delaware Bay in time to ride the ebb current down the bay.  It was windy, as predicted, and it was a fast but rolly sail with the wind on our stern.  Our arrival at the Cape May Canal coincided with high tide, so rather than listen to the antennas on the mast hit the bottom of the 55 ft bridges (or find we were just a bit too high to fit) we plugged way points into the GPS to skirt through the shoals at the mouth of the bay and approach Cape May from the Atlantic.

Leonard wanted to continue on up the coast since the anchorage in the harbor doesn't offer much protection from NW winds and we've had trouble getting an anchor to hold there.  But I felt a good night's sleep after an already long day would make the trip up the Jersey shore easier. He some what grudgingly agreed to stop, and we headed north through a bridge, up the Jersey ICW a few miles to Sunset Lake, a recommended anchorage.  The bascule bridge tender was very prompt and we found more water than charted - the chart shows a tight entrance into the Sunset Lake.  The bottom was soft though and, after the CQR dragged when we backed hard on it, we set a second anchor since the wind was still blowing.  There was no worry about someone else dragging into us since we were the only boat in the anchorage.

We left bright and early in the morning to ride the current out.  We had good winds, a bit gusty at times, but we tucked in close to shore and avoided the waves that were building just offshore.  Leonard planned to stop at Atlantic City, but since it was early and we were going smoothly, we continued north.  A pre dawn arrival at New York wouldn't be ideal, but the timing would be about perfect for catching the tide and current up the Hudson.  This time we'd believe the GPS and not get confused by the myriad of buoys for all the channels like we did on the 2003 trip.  Leonard plotted a very specific route to keep us out of trouble (and Naval supply depots).

We thought about keeping our speed down to time our arrival closer to dawn, but the winds kept us moving smartly all day (why only go 4 knots, when you can easily do 6?).  It was sunset before the winds became fluky and we began motor sailing.  A swell from the north came from nowhere which kept us bobbing during the night as we headed into it.  A later weather forecast that was still predicting west to northwest winds gave a  report of NE winds at the New York entrance.  Makes you wonder if they listen to what they say.

It was a boring hop.  No feathered hitch hikers to entertain us and only a brief sighting of dolphins.  It was also easy with almost no traffic to avoid since we were running about a mile offshore. All the big ships and barges were several miles further out.  I got a lot of exercise going into the cabin to check the radar to avoid an unlit buoy at Shrewsbury Shoal.  I could see the green flash on the outer buoy, and could see them both on radar, but couldn't spot it when I looked outside, but I guess that's fine, so long as I didn't hit it.

Both of us were on watch at 0230 as we made our harbor approach.  There was just a hint of northern lights in the sky overhead as we got to Sandy Hook and had to start concentrating on buoys and boats.  We had a good idea of the traffic around us since we could hear announcements of arrivals and departures of the big ships on the VHF, and there were only a few fishing boats moving at that hour.

The Verrazano Bridge lights looked like a strand of pearls decorating the harbor entrance.  An orange sliver of a crescent moon rose over Coney Island with a star dangling from the bottom.  As we approached the bridge, the 'Paris Express', an outbound container ship, called several times on the radio to a small work boat in the channel.  When he didn't get a response, he gave 2 "you are standing into danger" 5 blast warnings with his ship's horn while we were alongside him.  Enough to encourage one to get out of the way!

The eastern horizon was just starting to lighten as we worked our way through the ships at anchor in the upper bay.  It was a very different view of the city than we've had in the past.  Once we were free of the congestion I willingly crawled into our bunk and left Leonard to enjoy the scenery, having stood a long watch before our approach.

It was the quickest trip up the Hudson we ever made.  We rode the current until just before West Point, doing 7 plus knots over the ground.  I was amazed to wake up at 0730 to find we were beyond the George Washington Bridge.  It only took 2 1/2 hours from the Verrazano.  In past trips we've had opposing current and it has taken 4 hours or more to get from bridge to bridge.  There was very little debris in the water, much less than in past springs, in spite of the recent heavy rains in New England.

We spent the night at the Poughkeepsie Yacht Club in Hyde Park, NY, before heading to Catskill in the morning to be turned into a strictly power boat with the mast down.  Hopefully we can bring some of the sunshine we've enjoyed this trip with us to Vermont.  I suspect it would be greatly appreciated after the 3 weeks of rain and clouds.

Maybe we'll have the chance to see Shell Rieley and crew either in Catskill or in Albany on Saturday.  When we spoke with him, he was enjoying a pleasant run up the Jersey coast, but will likely catch up with us again while we're getting the mast stepped and stowed.

After a quick dinner and hot showers at the yacht club, we were ready for a good nights sleep.  The trip from Cape May was 199 nautical miles and took 36 hours.

We removed the solar panel and supports since that fits at the very bottom of the pile in the aft cabin.  We noticed the wind was beginning to blow as we prepared to remove the jib which can complicate keeping all that crispy fabric under control once it is no longer attached to the fore stay.  Anticipating the sail to need a tug to get it down, he was really surprised when it zipped right down, being blown onto the dock and dropping part of the bottom into the river.  After much effort we managed to tame the sail and get it folded, but not quite like it would have been if it had landed on the deck as planned.

Being fully prepared, dropping the main was no problem in spite of the 20 knot winds.  By 6 PM all the work was done with the exception of disconnecting the wiring for the instruments on the mast and loosening the stays which would be done in the morning.  We were hoping there would be less wind first thing in the morning when we were scheduled to step the mast since it's easier under calm conditions.

By 8:30 the boat was positioned in the slip, the winds were light and the mast was pulled without a hitch.  Once it was positioned in the supports on the deck we moved the boat before we got hung up on the falling tide, and began securing all the stays, wires and lines and then lashing the cradle to the deck.  By noon we were ready to head north planning to stop at the Mechanicville town dock, just short of Lock 3 on the Champlain Canal.

We got a call from Shell Rieley after we'd been underway for about an hour.  To everyone's surprise, he was the boat we'd been seeing behind us.  We made tentative plans to get together at Mechanicville for dinner in the evening.

The approaching cold front had predictions of thundershowers, some possibly severe, but all we got was a drizzly rain that persisted until we got to the Troy Lock.  Leonard did check the weather radar and it appeared the more severe weather passed further south of us.  Shortly after passing the junction where the Erie Canal heads west at Waterford, we were enveloped briefly in fog.  Since our radar was currently disabled it was not a very nice feeling to lose visibility and were glad to see the fog lift.

However, after exiting Lock 2, the fog returned and thickened.  The lock tender called us on the VHF to advise us to turn left to stay in the channel.  We then began a 2 mile journey of going from buoy to buoy.  It would have been easy but we couldn't see the buoys until they were just off the bow, so it became a case of me on the fore deck peering into the mists until the buoy came into view, then yelling the location back to Leonard and asking if the next mark was a red or a green.  When ever possible, Leonard tried to keep one of the shores in sight since the tree tops were occasionally visible.

Actually it looked like there was a beautiful sunset above the fog, but I didn't get more than a glimpse or two between peering for marks. There were also nighthawks busy catching insects overhead as they swooped in and out of the fog.  Things got a little tense when the river opened up just south of Mechanicville and shore was too far away to be seen.  All that I could see from shore was glimpses of the chimneys at the old mills.  Boy, were we glad to see the town dock slip into view.  About the time it became visible we could hear Shell and John Dupee calling out from Friend Ship.  Shell had been reaching for his cell phone to see if we'd stopped further south when we came alongside.  It was a good feeling to get tied up for the night.

Dinner aboard Friend Ship was a treat.  We learned we'd been playing leap frog and frequently anchored within the same areas several times before catching up with each other.  Even though they had a number of "free drink" cards from a nearby bar, none of us felt like venturing out into the fog again.  In the morning it was amazing to see how close the last buoys were to the dock.  Nothing to it when you can see!

We headed north around 8 the next morning, once again getting a head start for home.  Shell was waiting for his grand kids to join them for the trip through the locks, and also for the lock tender to lower the water level in the area between Lock 3 and Lock 4 so Friend Ship would fit under the rail road bridge (the lowest clearance in the canal).

After getting past the torrent from lowering water level before Lock 3 we had an easy trip through the locks.  All of us were glad to find the fog a thing of the past, and to have a beautiful sunny day.  The wind came up a bit during the afternoon, but it was from ahead and didn't cause any problems in the locks.  We seem to have refined our lock wall approach and line techniques over the years.

As we were approaching Lock 8 we were overtaken and quickly passed by a small powerboat.  I commented to Leonard that it really didn't look like he was doing the posted 10 MPH in the canal.  He wasn't.  And he got a lecture which we overheard on the VHF.  He had locked through Lock 7 with Friend Ship before passing us and wasn't aware that the lock tenders know who is in the canal heading which direction and when they cleared the last lock.  He was told he'd arrived almost 30 minutes sooner than the 10 MPH speed would have allowed.  Not only had he passed the other power boat, but he'd also passed a sail boat, and how far back were they?  He allowed him into the lock and then made him wait until we arrived.

Exiting the lock, he tried very hard to go slow with much difficulty maintaining steerage.  He hadn't figured out that we don't go 10 MPH, and if he did, he could reach the next lock legally on time to be locked through before we'd arrive.  Although the lock doors were closed, the lock tender opened them for us and, about the same time, got a call from Friend Ship that they were almost there too.  So we all locked through together.  Friend Ship got the award for the largest assisting crew. Along with Shell driving, John and Scott tending lines, there were 3 very active crew poking boat hooks at the lock wall to fend the boat (at less than 1 year, #4 was too small to man a hook).  Another photo op lost, would have made a great shot for the LCYC web site.

We spent a quiet night on the wall at Whitehall along with Friend Ship and 3 Canadian vessels also heading north.  In the morning the fog had returned.  We hiked up Skene Mountain thinking we'd be able to see over the fog, but the fog was thicker than we were high.  Eventually, we departed Whitehall at 9 AM, and being the slowest boat in the crowd, slowly motored up the lake.  We managed to bring at least a brief period of sunny weather north with us.  It sounds like the stretch of dreary weather that has been plaguing the North East for weeks will only have a short respite.  There was much more small boat traffic out on the water this year than in the past since it is Memorial Day weekend.

We arrived at LCYC at 7 PM, checked out our mooring and then went into the docks where we were greeted by friends who took our lines and welcomed us back.  The home coming was completed with a long fire works display on the other side of Shelburne Bay.  A check of our ship's log showed we'd gone 4150 nautical miles since we departed in October.

After a quiet night onboard, we started unloading the boat and hauling the extra clothes, charts, and food home.  The house survived our absence just fine, the grass has been cut but the garden needs work. The mast is scheduled to be stepped on Wednesday in time for us to make the first LCYC rendezvous of the year.

Lynnea Rosner