Dancing with Sandy

We are working our way down the ICW, inside of Cape Hatteras, sometimes sailing and sometimes motoring across open sounds and through rivers and man-made canals.  It takes us a total of four days to make it to the ocean again at Beaufort/Morehead City. Our plan is to sail out to Cape Lookout, anchor for the night, and then depart down the coast on the outside for a 30 – some hour passage to Charleston, SC.  We visited Cape Lookout a year ago and are anticipating another night in a spectacular anchorage.  In addition, with our first access to truly clear, warm water in months, Burt wants to snorkel the boat to check the zincs.  But, nothing goes as planned.  The wind has picked up as we motor out the channel, sails are hoisted, and we are moving along at a nice clip.  It time to shut down the engine, but as I lean over to do so, I notice the engine panel is no longer functioning.  In all likelihood we won’t be able to shut off the engine and also won’t be able to restart it.  Burt makes a cursory investigation of the situation and can come up with no logical explanation. This is not a good scenario, so we call a marina in Morehead City to see if they can accommodate us, and if they could get an electrician to our boat. With a positive reply, we turn around, motor in to the marina, and find, yes, we can not shut off the engine.  Burt is tinkering with the panel while I go in to register.  When I get back, the engine is off, and Burt is smiling.  As usual, when things go wrong, it’s mostly likely the simplest solution that solves the problem.  In this case, one of us had accidentally tripped a switch that provides power to the panel. Cape Lookout was not meant to be, and as we later find out, that’s a good thing. Apparently, it is known to have large schools of bull sharks in the anchorage, and thus is not a great swimming hole.

We have an uneventful passage to Charleston in the company of several other boats and arrive at an anchorage we used last spring. Awaiting us are friends we made while at the boatyard in Deltaville last summer. We set the anchor solidly as this spot is known for less than perfect holding and strong tidal currents. In the next three days we see three different boats without people on board adrift.  One broke its mooring line, one managed to break free by wrapping its anchor trip-line around its rudder, and the final one just dragged its anchor.  In all three cases, the boats are rescued unharmed, but it is a bit unnerving. 

But, we are back in Charleston, one of our favorite cities. Besides tending to basic necessities and chores, we spend time biking through the quaint side streets.  Instead of smelling the jasmine of last spring, we hear the sounds of leaves crunching underfoot.  It is fall in Charleston, and the trees are just beginning to turn. 

Home along Charleston's waterfront

Garden behind a home in Charleston

Window boxes with orchids along Charleston street

One of our cruising friends mentions that there is a Lightning regatta in progress on the other side of town.  As we had competed in Lightnings many years ago, we dash over to the club to see the spinnaker finish of the last race.  Forty racing boats with their colorful spinnakers out in the harbor is a beautiful sight.  After the race, we enjoy greeting several skippers with whom we had sailed many years ago. Another day we ride our bikes to the top of the new suspension bridge that spans the Cooper River.   

Bridge over Cooper River in Charleston

In a moment of enlightenment, the designers included a wide pedestrian lane that accommodates both foot and bike traffic.  It is well utilized by an assortment of people, and we enjoy the view of the city and the opportunity to see the structure of this bridge up close. 

People bike and walk beside the impressive structure of the bridge

Who (excepting my brother-in-law) knew a bridge could be so beautiful?

Late in our stay we host a happy hour on our boat for three other boats, all past residents of Great Lakes states.  One boat is from a neighboring sailing club in Sandusky – it’s a nice opportunity to reconnect with the crew who we have known for years and who are helping deliver the boat to Florida.   

The guys from Sandusky appear to be behaving themselves

The next day all our guests are all taking off for an off-shore passage south.  All, that is, except our friends from Deltaville who can’t retrieve their anchor.  They call in a diver who discovers the anchor has dropped down a hole in some metal framework lurking on the bottom, and he is unable to extract it.  The only option is to cut the anchor chain and lose the anchor, a very expensive proposition.  We agree to help them the next morning. At the appointed hour we are ready to get into the dinghy when we notice the boat is gone.  A call on the VHF reveals that they had taken all the slack out of the chain, to save as much of the length as possible when they cut it, but it just kept coming and coming until suddenly they had the anchor back on the roller and were adrift. One is thankful for small miracles!  The next day we plan to leave and, in preparation, we pull up a secondary anchor we had set to control our motion in the current. But, it is an unusually difficult job and part way down the rode, we find a small outboard motor entangled in the rope.  Yes, this isn’t the greatest anchorage and the bottom is littered with junk, but it affords excellent access to a wonderful city.

Our next passage is an overnight in lumpy seas to Savannah. We have made arrangements to stay two nights at a marina near bus access into the city of Savannah. Over the past few days we have been hearing about the possible formation of a tropical low that could develop into a hurricane with its sights set on the US east coast, and now our weather service makes the predictions sound increasingly dire.  When we arrive at Thunderbolt Marina I plead for an extension to our reservation as now our nemesis has a name – Sandy. Docks are suddenly at a premium, and we are delighted to find out that we can stay put as long as necessary; we take the last dock available at this facility.  Rather than take a day off to tour Savannah, we spend our time preparing our boat for a potential hurricane.  Extra dock lines are retrieved from the bilge and spare fenders are inflated and put into position.

And we wait.  We bike around the town of Thunderbolt, visiting the nearby Bonaventure Cemetery, a huge Victorian styled cemetery with fascinating tombstone sculptures and crypts housing the remains of many historical significant Georgians.  The cemetery was featured in the movie Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. With moss draped live oaks swaying in the building breeze, it is a spooky place to visit just a few days before Halloween. 

At Bonaventure Cemetery, the Gates of Heaven overlooking the river - this is the plot of one of Savannah's leading families

Old headstones and hanging moss combine for a surreal experience

And we wait.  We wander through the extensive Thunderbolt Marina yard and basin.  This is one of the few facilities on the east coast that can service the largest megayachts.  A number of them that are over 200 feet long are at docks, on the hard,  or inside the huge painting facility. 

Our little sailboat seems dwarfed in comparison to these megayachts

Uniformed crews with foreign accents scamper about supervising the refits that are in progress.  Another cruiser informs us that one boat just had a $4.4 million dollar extension added to its stern to house a second hot tub.  It’s hard for us to comprehend such wealth.

And we wait.  We have a nice dinner at the local open air restaurant, holding on to our napkins to keep them from blowing away. We watch the local high school’s homecoming parade with a group of proud mothers.

And we wait, for what?  Sandy passes well off the coast of northern Georgia, and we see no more than 30 knots of wind, no waves along our protected stretch of the ICW that is five miles inland of the ocean, and no storm surge of notice. This is the only stretch of the Atlantic coast that does not have either hurricane or tropical storm warnings.  The seas outside in the ocean are huge, so we will stay here until things subside, but we are never in any danger.  It is a great first close encounter with a hurricane, but we do worry about our cruising friends in less protected places that are closer to the path of Sandy. Emails are flying amongst our community and the daily ham nets are abuzz – who is where and what they are doing to prepare, what are boats closer to the storm experiencing, and the frightening details of the mayday and rescue of a large fishing boat with over 30 people on board adrift without power in Bahamian waters during the height of the hurricane.  We hear the stunning news that the Bounty, the replica tall ship that was featured in the movie Mutiny on the Bounty, has sunk off the shore of Cape Hatteras, leaving two crew unaccounted for. It strikes home as we had seen her up close this summer in Newport. We suspect we will be hearing “Sandy” stories well into the winter cruising season.

The aftermath of Sandy is still with us.  We have sunny, but cool days and the winds off the trailing cold fronts are at times brisker than what we experienced during Sandy. We will stay put for a few more days until the winds and waves subside. The weather gives us a good opportunity to visit the old city of Savannah. We take the local bus into town with our folding bikes in the convenient exterior racks.  Once we get into the city and obtain tourist maps, we take off on our bikes through the historic neighborhoods.  The city plait contains square neighborhoods with central parks and side streets in orderly fashion.  Savannah is unique in the south as it was never attacked during the Civil War.  Instead, Gen. Sherman stopped just short of Savannah in his March to the Sea, claiming the city was too attractive to level. The antebellum homes, parks enhanced with monuments and fountains, and the rows of moss draped live oaks are enchanting. 

A charming Savannah home now converted to an inn

The Forsyth Fountain in the historic district of Savannah

We weave through various neighborhoods to the river front where we find four story rehabilitated warehouses, now occupied by shops and restaurants, along a new brick river walk.   

Looking past a rehabbed warehouse to the river front

We stop along the waterfront docks to chat with a boat that did the Charleston to Savannah passage with us; finally we get to meet this Australian circumnavigator in person.  We end our day of tourism with dinner at a waterfront restaurant.  When this warehouse was remodeled into the current restaurant, they found a map of Sherman’s March to the Sea drawn on the wall by the officers that were billeted there. This portion of the wall is now under glass and climate controlled, and we marvel at the opportunity to see history at such close range.   

We hope to leave shortly for an ocean passage from Savannah to St. Augustine, a distance of 120 nm, but the weather situation will be the controlling factor.  Many boats have resumed their southern migration down the waterway, but the Georgia and north Florida sections of the ICW have many shoal areas, and, with our deep keel, we will have a much easier and safer trip if we stick to the ocean.  And, meanwhile, we think of those people up and down the coast who have been confronted with so much devastation.  When you travel the coast so intimately, Sandy and its repercussions seem much more vivid.

Coming Full Circle

It has been a little over a year since we left Ohio and started our new life as live-aboard cruisers. We arrived in the Chesapeake via truck, thanks to Hurricane Irene, and once we reassembled the boat, we left immediately for the Seven Seas Cruising Association Gam at Camp Letts, just south of Annapolis.  This year we return to the same location and same event as much more experienced cruisers; thus, we have come full circle.

We have volunteered to help with the Gam set up as the organization relies extensively on member assistance.  Volunteering has its benefits; during down times Burt has the opportunity to visit extensively, one on one, with Nigel Calder, the key note speaker, worldwide known author, and foremost authority on boat systems.  He gleans much information on making our electrical system function more efficiently. Once the Gam begins we greet many friends we have made over the last year and attend a number of seminars on subjects such as medical emergencies on board, interpreting charts and avoiding their inherent errors, alternative energy systems, suggestions for passages on the ICW, and interesting cruising destinations.  We join 400 other participants for meals and other social activities and leave with the conviction that we will be there again next year. 

We return to Annapolis and an actual dock with electricity and water offered to us by friends we met in the Bahamas.  Access to a dock is a real treat.  We do chores and projects that require electricity; Burt starts the improvements on our electrical system and I sew covers for our fenders.  And, the boat gets another thorough cleaning. Fall is in the air; across from our dock on Spa Creek we watch as leaves begin to change color and the breezes send them floating down our waterway. But, it is also Boat Show Week, and we spend two days at the show, for once not spending a fortune on new equipment for the boat.  The Boat Show is really an annual visit to Mecca for the sailing faithful, and we meet up with sailing friends from Ohio and elsewhere for afternoon Painkillers on Pussar’s deck or dinners at local restaurants. 

The Battery Park Marina gang from Sandusky, Ohio closes down the deck at Pussar's

 It’s been a whirlwind several days, and we’re a bit exhausted.  Monday dawns cold and rainy, and we leave Annapolis early to begin the trip down the Chesapeake.  Burt, who is always cold, is in a hurry to get to a warmer climate. With brisk northeast winds, we reach down the Bay averaging over 7 knots for around ten hours.  We arrive at an anchorage at the mouth of the Potomac River and tuck in with constant, cold drizzle and darkening skies.  The next morning isn’t much better and, in fact, we have added fog to the equation.  But, even in these circumstances, there is some beauty in our surroundings.  As we leave the anchorage, we pass by a fish weir.  Sitting on the stakes are many blue herons, their necks retracted into hunched over shoulders, watching for some morning snacks courtesy of the local fishermen.  Every so often one takes off, soaring into the foggy haze.  It is an eerie but memorable scene.  Our trip this day is even faster than the day before, with strong winds from the north and sizable following waves. At times we are surfing down waves at over 10 knots and arrive in Hampton just before sunset. We have covered almost 150 nm of the Chesapeake in two days.

The Hampton Roads area marks the beginning of the ICW (Intercoastal Waterway – a 1200 mile “highway” for commercial and recreational boats between Norfolk and Key West).  We have pressed hard to arrive in time to go through the many bridges near Norfolk a day before one closes for repairs, effectively shutting down the ICW for twenty four hours during the busiest time of year.  We are part of a parade of migrating boats of all sizes, from small sailboats to mega-yachts with their uniformed delivery crew.  

The parade of boats pass through a bridge construction project in Norfolk

The final hurdle is a tidal control lock at Great Bridge.  Fourteen boats pack into this sizable federal lock with fenders and dock lines deployed as we watch the water level drop no more than one inch – it is comical to see the effort put forth by the mega-yachts for such an uneventful lock experience.  We exit to a long wall where we tie up for two nights with six other boats, all of whom we have seen or met in the past year. This is our last stop with regular city amenities before we head off to the back waters of North Carolina. On our second night at the dock, we and two other boats are invited to a debate watching party by the local chapter of the Young Republicans.  It’s a fun and spirited evening and an opportunity to sample the political climate of this region of Virginia.

The next morning is clear but very cold.  We prepare to depart from the dock before the sun is even up to make a 7 am bridge opening.   

A cold, clear early morning passage through the Great Bridge

It is a constant struggle to keep the condensation off our vinyl cockpit surround and maintain visibility in the early morning light. 

A look back at Great Bridge

Thus begins our “bridge dance” as we time our transit to arrive at various bridges at their scheduled openings. We wind through wooded swamp areas with smoke on the water, a result of the cold air and relatively warmer water.   

The ICW just north of the Virginia/North Carolina line

Ten hours later we drop anchor just north of the Albemarle Sound, happy to have transited several shoaled areas without grounding.  It’s another typical day on the ICW, and we will see many more of these before we get to the end.

So…back to the title of this posting, “Coming Full Circle”. Between our visits with friends from the Great Lakes, some of whom are considering becoming full time cruisers, and our reflections on the past year, it seems appropriate to try to summarize the experience.  Burt is overwhelmingly positive about our choice, despite the fact that he spends many hours with his head in the engine room and arms covered with a variety of petroleum products.  It has been said that cruising requires two hours a day devoted to boat maintenance and improvement projects.  At times that seems like a conservative estimate, but, as a retired engineer, Burt enjoys the challenges and design work.  Of course, he didn’t seem like he was enjoying it very much when he recently rebuilt the head!  On the other hand, I sometimes think the lifestyle is a compromise.  It is a unique, but challenging experience that is requiring me to become more flexible in my planning and expectations.  Daily chores such as grocery shopping and laundry are much harder when you do it all by bicycle or foot and in places where services aren’t always first world quality.  And I do miss our children and grandchildren, and wish it was easier to visit them or at least communicate with them.  But, on a more positive note, I can not imagine a more interesting way to see the United States and explore other countries.  We find ourselves immersed in our surroundings in ways that differ from traditional tourism – we can become part of the communities we visit.  We meet fascinating people from all over the world that share our interest in boating and the natural environment.  We have benefited from the kindnesses of others, and try to return these gestures as we feel we are ambassadors of our home state and country. We definitely enjoy the aesthetics of sailing; moving under the power of wind in a boat that is both lively and comfortable in its motion is a joyful experience. Living within a reasonable budget and doing the vast majority of our boat maintenance and repairs ourselves affords us a comfortable lifestyle that is less costly than living on land – a good idea for a newly retired couple in times of economic uncertainty.  After all, we realize, this is a chosen lifestyle, not a 365 days a year vacation. The bottom line is that in the past year we have visited many fascinating places, seen breathtaking natural beauty, and made wonderful new friends.  We have gotten to know the Atlantic coast of our country in an intimate and unique way that leaves us feeling fortunate to be Americans.  And, every night we have waterfront dining and beautiful sunsets in constantly changing locations – we are indeed very blessed.   When will we return to a land based existence?  Certainly not in the foreseeable future; our health and energy levels will most likely be the determining factors.