Along the ICW - A Change in Plans?

Day 14 – 8 nm to go It rained during the night and we woke to a grey morning. We slept with our aft hatch open and knew it was raining when our feet got wet. We were up by 0530, but it was a lazy, dreary morning. I wrote and edited photos while David made a run to the local Taylor Do-It Center to find a new hose nozzle and connector.

I watched Canada geese with their goslings only a few feet away from the dock. A mallard duck couple mingled with the geese, but were given the snub by the geese and cautionary honks when they waddled too close to the goslings. Squirrels raced around and we saw several brown bunnies enjoying the rich green grass a la morning dew.

We had every intention of making the 0900 Great Bridge opening, but the VHF wailed a violent weather alert for our area about 0830 and we decided to stick around till the weather passed. At first the thunder was distant and half-hearted, but the squall approached quickly and in no time, the lightning bolted through the sky, thunder cracked and the heavens opened up and gave us a good dousing. With only 8nm to Norfolk, the end of the ICW (and 8 bridges and a set of locks), there was no rush.

Around 10:00, there was a lull in the rain. We sprung off the dock, made a U-turn in the channel and tied up at the Atlantic Yacht Basin (AYB) fuel dock on the opposite shore for a diesel top-up. The rain began in earnest again and since we were alone at the fuel dock, the dockmaster had no problems delaying the fuel fill till the rain stopped. We decided we'd take a look around. AYB is a working boatyard, not a marina. There were still basic amenities like hot showers, laundry, free wifi, water and electric on the docks, but there was also a 60-ton Travelift, an on-site chandlery, several boats on the hard and lots of workers busy at their trade. This place had potential.

So time for consultation and consideration … we had lots of questions.

1. Did they have room for Nine of Cups if we decided to leave her here till our return in early September? Were the rates reasonable?
2. Did they have a marine mechanic on staff for the transmission repair? And what would the repair costs be?
3. Would Cups be safe here during hurricane season?
4. Could we rent a one-way car here in Chesapeake, VA to drive up to Boston and how would we get to the rental car place?
5. We intend to drive back from Las Vegas in September, leave the car and sail for a month or so. Could we leave our car here safely and without cost?

For the answers to these questions and many more and the results of our decision, check back tomorrow.

Intracoastal Waterway - Day 13

Day 13 - 54 nm to go It was a boisterous, no-sleep night. The wind howled to 30+ knot winds from the southwest. The anchor alarm sounded about 12:30 am; we were dragging. We were up on deck in a flash. The anchor had evidently broken free and we were traveling at about .5 knot towards the channel. We had plenty of room and water all around us, but still it was disconcerting to know that our big, hefty 80# Manson Boss anchor and 100' of chain couldn't keep us in place in 12' of water. We re-anchored and set the hook once again, but what little sleep we got the rest of the night was fitful at best.

The morning dawned sunny, but it was still blustery with 25 knot winds whipping up white caps. We wended our way through the Abermarle Sound-Great Bridge Canal. It was a circuitous route, but deep (15-20') in most parts. Some areas shoaled and we kept one eye on the chart plotter, one on the depth meter, one on the hazard notes and one concentrating on the actual channel and markers. Thank goodness we have four eyes aboard.

We crossed into Virginia and after a hefty dose of bridge transits, we tied up to the free docks in Chesapeake, Virginia. What a delightful place to stop. The wharf is new and accommodates about 5-6 boats, but we were the only ones there. Not for long though … three more boats showed up within an hour and the dock was full to capacity when another boat showed up later. We chatted with the other cruisers … two Canadian boats, another from Washington state and a big traditional ketch from New Orleans. That's Cups on the far end.

Adjacent to the docks is a lovely little park with a short loop walk along the canal and several historical markers touting Chesapeake, VA as the first land battle of the American Revolution in Virginia. We whupped the Brits in the Battle of Great Bridge.

There was a short path to the main road. We crossed the Great Bridge bascule bridge ... on land for a change ... and got a good look at the bridge and canal from a different perspective when it opened at 3pm.

A huge, wide barge was making a transit. We marveled at the expertise required by the tug captain to negotiate such a huge barge around the river bends and through the bridges. We were quite happy that we hadn't been in the canal when he came through because there would have been no room left for Nine of Cups.

A fine, big grocery store, Farm Fresh, was only a ¼ mile away. We stopped for a late lunch/early dinner and a cold beer en route. We figured shopping on empty stomachs was a bad idea. We stocked up on freshies and a few other basics and hauled it all back to the boat. We were all set for another few days at anchor.

It was a pleasure to be tied up at the dock ... all snug and secure … and free. We slept like rocks till morning.

Intracoastal Waterway - Days 11 & 12

Day 11 - 182 nm to go The full moon was bright as the sun rose to meet the day. The sun, not to be outdone by her nocturnal counterpart, splashed on the scene with flashy color and brilliance and soon diminished all thoughts of the previous night. It was duck pond calm and still quite cool . We had on our long-sleeved shirts once again to ward off the early morning chill.

As we entered Core Creek, shafts of sunlight highlighted the rising mist from the river, giving it a mystic kind of look.

It was a working day on the river. Shrimpers and trawlers were plying the local waters. Gulls crowded around them like gnats looking for an easy breakfast bite. Crabbers checked their pots. Men netted bait fish on the river's edge.

We moved from tiny waterway to waterway, one eye on the depth meter and one on the channel, but there were no adrenaline rushes today. The creeks were narrow, but easy enough to negotiate. The riverbanks were heavily forested wetlands. Big stumps and dead trees crowded into the creeks.

We crossed the wide, deep Neuse River, then worked our way along Goose Creek, across the Pamlico and headed up the Pungo River. We found a fine anchorage, midst crab pots, 20 miles up the Pungo River. There were no ATT bars, no houses, no nothing. We were in the backwoods of Nowheresville, North Carolina. David kept whistling “Dueling Banjos” as if someone hidden on shore might join in.  We had no visitors, however, and by nightfall, five other cruising boats heading north up the ICW were anchored around us. We'd circled the wagons just in case the natives got restless.

Day 12 – ICW Mile marker 128 - 115 nm to go

There was no brilliant sunrise this morning. A cool, lackluster sun made its appearance without fanfare. The wind had picked up during the night and it was tending towards blustery on a grey, grey day. We were stuck good in mud and the chain and anchor needed a washdown. The nozzle on the hose popped off and headed directly for the drink. Darn … I made do with a thumb over the end of the hose, but put a new nozzle on the buy-list.

We extricated ourselves on a slalom course around anchored boats and crab pots and set out up the Pungo-Alligator Canal. A bald eagle flew by, too quick for a photo, but easy enough to recognize. I spotted another high up in a tree, looking stern and serious the way eagles do. There's something exhilarating about seeing an eagle in the wild.

There were lots of birds flitting about and their morning songs were vibrant in the early morning quiet. The evergreens were thick on the north side of the channel contrasting with the grassy wetlands to the south. Old tree trunks stood rotting along the riverside and encroached into the channel … or were we encroaching upon them? The smell was musty and acrid, like a damp, mildewed closet.

A very friendly butterfly flew into the cockpit and lighted on the captain's shoulder, then proceeded to hitch a ride with us for the next few miles riding on a fuel jug on the aft deck.

For some reason, dragonflies were out in great numbers today and as the wind increased, they hopped aboard and hung on for dear life. There were black ones the size of hummingbirds, yellow ones and green ones. They clung to lines and sheets and shrouds and one bright blue one found its way into the cockpit and lit on my finger for awhile, then my leg and then in the shelter of the windscreen. This one stuck around for several hours until we anchored, then left without a fare-thee-well.

We had the jib up as we crossed the Abermarle Sound … we were sailing! Well, at least motor-sailing. The wind was 15-20 knots and the Sound was rough and choppy with nasty square waves spaced only a couple seconds apart. We bounced along, avoided the ever-present crab pots and finally anchored in one of the few spots that afforded us the depth we needed. It wasn't the best spot for protection from the southwest winds, but it was the best we could find at the end of the day.