Heading South in the Aftermath of Hurricanes

The story of our 2016 trip south revolves around two uninvited guests, Hurricanes Matthew and Nicole. We await the impact of Hurricane Matthew in Galesville at our home base marina but, Matthew has other ideas and skirts the southern US coast from central Florida to Virginia, leaving us totally unscathed. Now, the Chesapeake is beginning to show signs of Fall.  We have clear blue skies after Matthew departs, and the trees along the shore are starting to change. 

Color change starting in Galesville

On our first leg south we sail as far as the mouth of the Potomac and tuck in behind a point off the north shore for a calm night at anchor in this isolated location.  

Chesapeake sunset with fishing weir nearby.

The next hop takes us to New Point Comfort off Mobjack Bay.  Again we tuck behind a point, this time one composed of sand dunes, an unlikely sight along the western shore of the Chesapeake.  We have enough time before sunset to enjoy a walk on the beach. 

 A pelican convention at New Point Comfort

The following day we head into Hampton Roads in a dense fog. Transiting this heavily traveled commercial and naval port is a challenge in the best of conditions, but today is close to terrifying as we are passed at close range by 1000 foot freighters that only emerge from the fog as large steel walls at the very last second.  Radar and AIS take much of the danger out of such situations, but we breathe a sigh of relief as we tie off one of the free docks in Portsmouth.  We are asked to leave the dock the next morning as the Great Chesapeake Schooner Race will be utilizing these docks at the conclusion of their race.  We move to a nearby anchorage and then return to the docks by dinghy to see the boats as they arrive.  They range from old wooden work boats, to well preserved beauties, to recently built boats sporting a schooner rig.  The crews are friendly and talkative. 

Summer Wind, which we saw earlier at the Naval Academy, takes some lucky midshipmen on a weekend of racing.

Interesting juxtaposition of the wooden schooner Virginia with an aircraft carrier in the repair yard.

Soon we begin a three day trek down the Intercoastal Waterway (ICW), and we start to see and hear of the damage caused by Hurricane Matthew.  The docks at Great Bridge are virtually empty as the bulk of migrating boats are lingering in the Chesapeake. Just prior to our arrival they are underwater from the flooding.  We have timed our arrival in Great Bridge well as the annual Waterway Festival is set up right off our dock. Traditional craftsmen, food vendors, and local non-profits have put up tents in the adjacent park.  We make the rounds but are particularly fascinated with the display presented by the Army Corps of Engineers, the agency that manages the ICW.  On display and open for visitation is their recently updated survey vessel.  The crew shows us how the side scan sounder measures and records water depths in a much more efficient manner.  This boat has been surveying all of Virginia’s waters since the hurricane before notifying boaters that passage is now safe.   We find that encouraging as we consider venturing further south.  All is not right in Virginia’s waters though.  Flooding in the Great Bridge area has receded, but further west in the Dismal Swamp (an ICW alternative) water is so high that the locks are inoperable and boats, including friends who took refuge during the hurricane in these locks, have been stuck in place for two weeks.  The crew on the survey vessel will be heading that way to assess the damage and determine how to rescue the trapped boats.  Happily, in a matter of days a make-shift arrangement allows these boats to proceed, but now, two months later, the Dismal Swamp route is still closed to regular traffic.  

We proceed down the ICW carefully watching for storm debris as a sunken log or floating branch can cause havoc with our boat. Fortunately we see very little that concerns us other than 65 foot bridges with clearances reduced by several feet due to the flooding. We are lucky our mast measures in at 62 feet to the top of the antenna; many of our friends are not so fortunate and are either staying put in the Chesapeake or taking the outside route around Cape Hattaras. We have a pleasant several days making our way through this sparsely populated area,

A typical scene along the Alligaator Pungo Canal on the ICW in North Carolina.

stopping at the luxurious marina at River Dunes, near Oriental, for a two night visit which includes a day with Ohio sailing friends who have recently relocated to New Bern, NC.

At this point we decide to head out into the ocean rather than contend with the flooding and debris issues that plague the Carolinas. Our first hop takes us from Beaufort, NC (Cape Lookout) for a short overnighter to Wrightsville Beach.  

Sunrise at sea.  Earlier it was a bit rougher, necessitating sea sickness meds.

Several friends who have gone around Hattaras are there to greet us.  Wrightsville Beach is a vacation community full of beach houses.  It is off season through, so we enjoy the un-populated beaches for several days. 

The beach at Wrightsville.  The Atlantic storms  provided some fun for the local surfing population.

We have an interesting encounter with a women who was hired as FEMA’s disaster photographer.  She had just spent two week in interior North Carolina recording the damage from Matthew.  Her shell-shocked facial expressions animate the stories she tells of destruction and loss.

The next hop takes us again off shore, around Cape Fear, and down to Charleston Harbor.  While Matthew is out of the picture, a subsequent hurricane, Nicole, is staying way off shore but sending confused seas our way, and the passage is less than pleasant at times. We anchor just across from the City Marina Mega Dock and admire the many large yachts that stop here on the way to the Caribbean. 

Adix, which we saw earlier this year in Maine and which was originally owned by Alan Bond, at the Mega Dock.

And nearby, Hanuman, a J boat replica which we often see in Newport, on its way to the Caribbean winter racing circuit.

Arriving with us are two other friends, one of whom was stuck in Myrtle Beach for almost four weeks due to Matthew.  They rode out category 1 hurricane force winds safely at a dock, but were not able to leave the area as flooding had closed a swing bridge on the ICW to the south and raised water levels to the north to such an extent that they couldn’t pass under a fixed bridge. Four weeks later, they finally squeaked under the northern bridge and entered the ocean at the Little River Inlet.

Charleston is one of our favorite stops along the way south.  We spend a Saturday morning at the huge Farmer’s Market, a Charleston tradition that includes street performers, music, food vendors, crafts for sale, and a wide array of produce from the area. 

Welcome to the Farmer's Market

Sitting at a table in the shade, enjoying a Latte and the music at the Farmer's Market.

We always enjoy biking down the streets of the historical district, gazing at the beautifully restored homes and gardens. 

One of the restored townhouses in historic Charleston - I love the coordinating window boxes.

Peaking into a private garden - in the distance is the same wrought iron bench that we had in our garden in Ohio.

We see little damage from Matthew on the west side of Charleston’s peninsula, but along the east side which is more open to the ocean, one marina is totally destroyed and another has an area of broken docks. One day we take a water taxi and long bike ride out to Sullivan’s Island and an ocean beach.  Edgar Allen Poe was stationed at the fort here so lunch at Poe’s Pub seems appropriate. Since it is almost Halloween, we decide to become tourists and take a “Ghost Tour” of the old, historic Charleston Jail. We readily admit we saw no ghosts, but the stories of imprisonments dating back to pre-Revolutionary War days are chilling.  Prisoners rarely survived more than a week or two due to overcrowding, disease, and poor diet. 

The dismal Charleston Jail in daylight - tour proceeds help pay for the ongoing restoration.

Halloween night is celebrated with our cruising friends at a restaurant overlooking the Charleston harbor and skyline.

Our insurance doesn’t allow us to enter Florida until noon on November 1, and luckily November 2 we have a good weather window to head down to St. Augustine.  It would otherwise be an easy passage but waves from Hurricane Nicole, which is now wandering around near Greenland, makes it uncomfortable, and we decide to duck into the St. John’s River (Jacksonville) and continue on to St. Augustine on the ICW.

The mooring field in St. Augustine is just recovering from Matthew, and we are fortunate to be able to snag one of the few available moorings.  As days pass, more moorings become available after divers certify them as safe. And it is here in St. Augustine we see the very real damage a direct hit from a Category 2-3 hurricane can inflict. The storm hit at the worst possible time – during an unusually high tide. One of the marina’s main docks has been destroyed.  The storm surge raised the floating concrete docks up and over the pilings, crashing sections back on to the pilings and nearby docks. One of the marina’s main docks has been destroyed by the hurricane.  The storm surge raised the floating concrete docks up and over the pilings, crashing sections back on to the pilings and nearby docks.  The street in front of our marina had been a several foot deep river of water.  Stores and restaurants in the Old City flooded. Yet a month later, most everything in the tourist district has been cleaned up and re-opened.  

Pretty St. Augustine with its Spanish influenced architecture.

We do smell mold, though, in the first floor restaurant at an establishment across from the marina and decide to eat in their upstairs dining room instead. We take a bike ride out to Anastasia Island, the barrier island between mainland St. Augustine and the ocean.  Here the damage is more apparent.  One entire neighborhood has been flooded up to the middle of house’s first floors.  At first glance the homes seem fine, but a closer inspection shows the interiors have been gutted.  Piles of disintegrating plaster board, discarded appliances, and destroyed furniture line the curbs.  Pods stand on driveways holding salvaged belongings and RV campers are hooked up in yards as temporary housing.  The sound of electric saws is everywhere as owners and contractors feverishly work to make the homes livable again.  It is so sad that we don’t take any pictures, not wanting to add to the owners’ despair. 

One picture we did take of storage units free for the taking near the effected neighborhood - indicative of what was happening.  Also there was a table with power tools for loan at no cost.

We venture on our bikes to a marina on Anastasia Island that has been seriously damaged.  The north east winds battered their outer docks which either crumbled from the onslaught or broke away and drifted with boats still attached.  Over 50 boats were destroyed or washed ashore.  Since it is a sandy area, many were refloated and repaired while others that washed high and dry up on to the dunes were lifted by helicopter back to the water at $35,000 a shot. 

One lone sailboat still parked in the dunes - perhaps its owner couldn't come up with the $35,000.

Finally, we head out to Anastasia Island State Park to walk along the beautiful, dune edged beach.  

Miles of unpopulaated beaches at the park.

Wood storks at the park.  The center one displays their unique way of kneeling.

It is a calm and peaceful day on the ocean, and it is difficult to imagine a hurricane had passed through here just a few weeks prior.

We reluctantly leave St. Augustine for points south on the ICW.  Along the way we see many docks that have been destroyed by the hurricane.  Often there is a boat suspended on a lift under a protective roof with no way to access it from the shore as the connecting dock is gone.  Surprisingly, most of the homes here are of newer construction and seem to have survived the onslaught in fine shape – a sign of Florida’s strict building codes.  About fifteen miles south of St. Augustine, the hurricane actually opened up a new inlet to the ocean, but we carefully work our way through the area without running aground. We anchor just off the ICW south of New Smyrna Beach where a number of derelict boats have broken loose and washed ashore.  The State will have a lot of work ahead to clean up this mess. Another enjoyable stop is at the old town of Cocoa.  The downtown is reminiscent of “Old  Florida” and has been renovated with many nice shops and restaurants.  The water front park provides shore access for anchored boats along with a nice shady respite.

Waterfront park at Cocoa.

We are pushing south at a fast rate as we are hearing stories that the mooring field in Marathon, our ultimate destination, is filling fast.  We skip the SSCA Gam in Melbourne and only spend four days in Vero in a whirlwind of serious restocking and provisioning with a rental car. Here in Vero the hurricane brought down just a few trees but also eroded a large section of beach along a local park, leaving the board walk suspended above the water rather than the beach. We squeeze in time for breakfast at the beach, orchid shopping at the Farmer’s Market, and dinner at a riverside restaurant.  Usually we spend Thanksgiving here with a huge gathering of cruising friends, but that will sadly have to be skipped this year.

So we are off for a long passage to Marathon in the mid-Keys.  We leave the ICW at Fort Pierce timing the current just right as usually we have a nasty standing wave at the entrance. And for once, there are no confused seas from offshore storms.  It is a beautiful night on the ocean, illuminated by a huge full moon and the lights of Fort Lauderdale and Miami.  We are motor-sailing in a light breeze when all of a sudden the engine stops at 2 am. Burt is on watch and I’m asleep below, but a change in noise is enough to wake the dead.  The engine starts up just fine but stalls out immediately when we put it in gear. A search light pointed aft confirms we have picked up a long trailing line.  I pull it in with a boat hook and on the end is a large wad of line containing four small fish which are quickly redeposited into the water.  Somehow the line manages to be cut by the cutter on our shaft, and it disappears behind us in the dark. Yet, the engine continues to stall; we must have more line attached.  We are currently three miles offshore of the reef along the Keys in 400 feet of water.  But...we’re a sailboat, and we plot a course to cross over the reef into shallower waters where we can anchor.  It’s a good plan until the wind totally dies and we begin drifting towards the reef.  At this point, we decide to use our towing insurance, the first time since we began buying insurance in 2002.  An hour later, a tow boat has come from Miami and tows us into the protected harbor at No Name Key where we tie up to a concrete wall.  Come daylight Burt gets out our Hookah (an air pump hooked up to a dive regulator which allows us to dive deep enough to do maintenance on the bottom of the boat) and spends an hour cutting off a mass of line that actually obscures the entire prop.  

About 2/3's of the line that fouled our prop.  The cell phone to lower right is for size comparison. Included in this mass are sections of 1 1/2" hawser line.

This is a major fouling, and we are fortunate that there is no residual damage as it has the potential to destroy the prop, shaft, and/or the transmission.  By mid-morning we are underway to Marathon, stopping for a night at anchor at Rodriguez Key and then on to Boot Key Harbor where we take the last mooring available for our draft boat.  Now, a week later, the mooring field is completely full, something that typically happened around New Years in previous seasons.

When we arrive in Marathon, we are greeted by the sad news that “Captain Jack” had died the night before in his sleep.  At 94 years old, Captain Jack was a Boot Key Harbor legend. Previously a well accomplished sailor, he spent his last years tied to a wall at the marina, living on his boat.  Neighbors looked after him and in turn, he greeted all the ladies with hibiscus flowers picked from a bush at the marina and painted sea shells to give to boaters as gifts. The marina held a nice memorial for him a few days later, replete with a military honor guard as he was a World War II veteran.  Other than an invalid daughter in California, the boaters were his family.

On a more pleasant note, days later we attend a 99^th birthday party for Nicky, another Marathon mainstay.  Nicky lives on shore with his third wife and spent his professional life as an accomplished trumpeter with nationally known bands. Now he shows up at open mike sessions at local watering holes.  His usual gig is to tell a series of jokes (Ed Sullivan vintage) and then play some jazz trumpet.  And, play he does with remarkable energy and style.  This night he is joined by many of the Marathon musicians for a lively and joyful celebration.   

A poor picture of Nicky playing in the open mic session.

We can hardly wait for the 100^th!

So here we are in Marathon for probably another two months as we undertake a long list of boat projects and hopefully spend some time enjoying the area and visiting with other friends in the harbor.  It is Thanksgiving Day, and we have been invited, along with several other boats, for dinner at the shore side home of some cruisers we know.  It will be a lovely alternative to our typical Vero Beach Thanksgiving, and being so far away from family at the holidays, we feel blessed to have made so many wonderful friends over the years that can fill in as “almost family”.  From our boat to your home, we wish you a very happy Thanksgiving. 

Just another beautiful Keys sunset....

Chesapeake Lay-over

We are starting to think about heading down to the Chesapeake. Tropical Storm Hermine, over Labor Day weekend, gives us a few blustery days but otherwise is harmless.  We leave our hiding place in Mt. Hope Bay and make a lunch stop at nearby Bristol to stretch our legs.  Bristol is an attractive, nautical town with historic homes and an active waterfront although it is now off-season and things are a little quieter.  Late afternoon as the last of Hermine’s dark skies depart, we leave for a pleasant motorsail down Narragansett Bay to the anchorage in Newport. We take up residence and spend a few days doing last minute errands, laundry, and provisioning.  From there it is an easy hop to Stonington, CT where we have one last day with our Rhode Island family, includingplaying with our son’s new tractor,  dinner onshore, and a dinghy ride through the harbor on “Grandpa’s little boat.”  It is sad but we have to chase our loved ones away as we wish to depart the harbor before sunset to avoid any lobster pots that may be lurking in Long Island Sound.

We decide to plot a course due south and then along the southern shore of Long Island. It is fairly breezy, and we have a lively sail in left over ocean swells through the night.  We see virtually no commercial traffic as we pass well offshore of New York City – something to celebrate as that usually isn’t the case. The wind goes light off the Jersey shore so on goes the engine for the duration of the trip.  Long after sunset we are rounding Cape May with a fair number of freighters but as we head north up Delaware Bay, they, too, disappear.  At night commercial traffic keeps the watch-keeper on his/her toes but also provides interest during the long hours of darkness.  At daylight we are ready to begin the transit of the C&D Canal with many other boats that have spent the night in the upper reaches of the Delaware.  It is nice to finally be able to get on the radio and chat with other cruising friends. We have timed our passage to coincide with positive currents so far, but once we get two hours into the Chesapeake, the current turns against us, the wind builds on the nose, and we get to bash into steep waves for the remainder of the trip into Annapolis.  We have been underway for 47 hours and are delighted to pick up our favorite mooring in front of the Naval Academy.

Our lay-over here will be more work than pleasure.  For two weeks at the mooring ball we attend to a thorough cleaning (mildew removal), organizing, and culling of the entire interior of the boat including all bilges.  Our lift-raft goes to Baltimore for a several week process of re-certification. Chandleries in the area provide replacements of spare parts and equipment. We’ve gotten very adept at using the local bus system and biking side streets in this bustling town.  But all is not work; we also spend evenings socializing – happy hours on boats and in town, dinners at local restaurants, meals and parties at the homes of friends on shore.  It is a time to reconnect with fellow cruisers for the upcoming winter season.

One weekend, the National Sailing Hall of Fame sponsors a classic boat regatta.  To kick things off, America, the replica schooner we saw in Maine, is at the dock and giving tours.  The next day, we head out into the harbor in our dinghy to watch the wooden boat race.  In no way does this compare to what we see in Maine, but around twenty classic wooden boats sail a course just outside the mooring field, and we enjoy our afternoon following along and snapping pictures. 

Tacking upwind

Bull - one of two replica boats sailed out of the National Sailing Hall of Fame

A tippy sailing canoe utilizing a hiking board. Obviously the crew was not pleased with the power boat that roared through the course (a no-wake zone) and almost capsized them.

Another day, we take an afternoon to stroll through the grounds of the Naval Academy.  Once you clear through security, you are able to walk around the grounds at will.  We stop by the boat harbor to admire the large fleet of Navy 40’s and many more small one design boats.  Sailing is certainly a mainstay here.  And in a prominent position we find Summer Wind, a new addition to the Navy fleet and a beautifully maintained wooden schooner.  

A classic schooner donated to the Naval Academy - Summer Wind

We hear days earlier, Jimmy Buffet was visiting Annapolis and took the helm of this gem. Sadly, no one offered us the same opportunity. The grounds of the Academy are pristine and the buildings perfectly maintained.  We note all the nautical references carved into the stone facades and trim of the stately architecture. 

A festooned ship powering through waves - all in carved stone adorning a roof corner of one building.

Decor over a building entrance with references to Neptune

The Chapel is particularly beautiful with its high dome and Tiffany stain glass windows. 

The towering dome in the chapel lights the interior.

The alter area. Stain glss window has references to the sea and the inscription above it reads "Eternal Father, strong to save" - the opening line of the Naval Hymn.

A glorious sunset in Annapolis from our mooring with the spires and domes of the city in the distance.

From Annapolis we head about twelve miles further south to Hartge Yacht Harbor and a dock that awaits us. We usually stop here twice a year to do maintenance and cleaning that require a dock with water and electricity.  It is a pleasant, friendly place with lovely vistas overlooking the creek and river,

The serene view off the end of our dock on one of the few pleasant days.

but it is very isolated so a rental car is also a necessity. We figure it will take us a week to complete our chores, but the weather gods have other ideas.  On our first full day we have occasional drizzle.  In between showers we strip off all the canvas.  Earlier this year a kind osprey sat on our mast and relieved himself of vast quantities of poop on our dodger and bimini.  We cleaned what we could but some remained imbedded and mildewed over the summer.  The best way to clean canvas is to soak it in a bath tub in a mixture of Clorox and Dawn for about fifteen minutes.  Problem is, we don’t have a bath tub so creative minds went to work, and I order an inflatable baby pool from Amazon. As silly as we look on the dock, it works and the canvas is remounted just as the heavens open.  We are unable to apply the new waterproofing in time, so a blue tarp covers the canvas for the next four days as it rains incessantly. During the torrents I use the car to re-provision the boat with food and supplies for the next few months.  The freezer is full of vacuumed packed meats from Sam’s Club and all the storage areas are filled with dry goods.  A few days of clear weather allows us to do the waterproofing, clean the cockpit thoroughly (good-by to a summer’s worth of happy hour snacks hiding beneath the floor grates), clean and re-oil the grates and boarding ladder (we use Semco which holds up better than regular teak oil), clean and polish all the stainless topsides (use Spotless Stainless), and buff out the deck and cabin sides with a polymer polish.

It looks like we are ready to head south, but the weather gods are not done fooling with us yet.  Our subscription weather service is sending multiple alerts each day concerning Hurricane Matthew which is currently off the coast of Venezuela. That seems so far away, but its predicted track is very unpredictable and some models even see it coming into the Chesapeake.  This is no time to move from our sturdy, protected dock five miles inland from the Bay.  We monitor the storm closely, even participating in evening video conferences with two well know marine weather experts. As the days pass, the marina fills to capacity with others seeking out protection, and the hurricane path runs parallel up the coast with possible landfalls anywhere from the Florida Keys to Nova Scotia as a Category 4 Hurricane.  Suddenly, our lifestyle is no longer carefree.  We start making contingency plans for stripping and securing the boat and evacuating inland, although we do take a day to enjoy the opening of the Annapolis Boat Show.  We monitor the terrible destruction in Haiti, give a sigh of relief as the Bahamian communities we know see damage but not of the severe, devastating variety. We are in contact with friends up and down the coast who at any given time are in the bullseye.  Fear and panic comes through in the many emails we exchange. It is fortunate that the storm stays mostly offshore, and those cruisers in well protected anchorages and marinas have emerged unscathed. But in some places the damage is considerable.  Historic St. Augustine neighborhoods have been underwater. Barrier islands have been overwashed by the waves and storm surge. Some marinas in Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina no longer exist.  Finally  just south of Cape Hattaras, Matthew turns east and begins to die. We see 24 hours of heavy rain in Galesville followed by gale force winds and a negative storm surge as the NE wind actually blows the water out of the Chesapeake.  We are now aground in our slip in the harmless Chesapeake muck.

Once the gale departs and the water levels rise again, we will begin to pick our way south, but it won’t be an easy trip. On the ICW we will find higher water than normal which may make passage under some bridges impossible.  Some locks and opening bridges may be inoperable. Shoaling areas will have shifted and will not correspond with our charts.  Marina facilities and mooring fields may be out of commission. We may only be able to enter and exit the ocean through the very largest freighter channels. Navigation marks will be missing or moved.  Debris and derelict or sunk boats will lurk along the way.  And, a large number of boats that have stayed in one place for the weather will clog the channels and facilities as we all begin the migration together.