Looking for Warmth in All the Wrong Places

Lots of cookies but very little room

Ah…Christmas in the Keys.  It is sunny.  And some days it is quite warm.  Being away from family and traditions at this time of year can be difficult, so we try to maintain some of the old ways. We have a small lit Christmas tree below and colored solar powered LED lights strung around the cockpit. The primary challenge is Burt’s need for his favorite Christmas cookies – cut out ginger cookies decorated with colored sugars.  I’m working in a tiny boat galley but if you are desperate enough, you can make it happen. Weeks later I am still finding red and green sprinkles throughout the boat.  Cookies in place, we try to continue another tradition by going to Christmas Eve services at a local church.  In the dark we hop on the bikes and pedal three miles upwind to a Presbyterian church.  The first person we encounter there is a friend of Burt’s brother who moved to Marathon recently – small world.  And afterwards, in the dark with the sound of the wind in the palm trees, we pedal another three miles, now downwind, to the marina where we dinghy back to our moored boat.  It is definitely a different experience from Christmas in Ohio.  On Christmas day we celebrate with a progressive dinner between three boats which quickly becomes two boats once one decides to make a last minute dash to the Bahamas.  Elaborate hors d’ouvres, grilled steaks with the trimmings, and cherry pie leaves everyone quite satisfied. We join our good friends Ted and Sally to conclude the holiday week, celebrating New Year’s Eve at the Dockside Café with a delicious dinner, dancing to the Eric Stone Band, and Burt demonstrating how to do a shotski. Appropriately, the ski is a water ski.

Dancing to the Eric Stone Band of "Lats and Atts" fame

Burt, Sally, and Erin, our server and liveaboard in the mooring field demonstrate the fine art of consuming rum punch on a shotski

Our time in Marathon flies by.  Burt has some boat projects, the foremost being installing an inverter so that we can have an available supply of 110v power.  It is a big job, but it goes smoothly, so now coffee can perk in the mornings, and I can use a hair dryer.  We go biking most days.  Sometimes it is just to the grocery store or Home Depot, but often we make the 8 mile trek out on the Old Seven Mile Bridge.  This is a remnant of Henry Flagler’s trans-Keys railroad, extending from Marathon to Pigeon Key.  It has been maintained for walkers and bikers to reach Pigeon Key and enjoy the surrounding waters.  It is a spectacular bike ride, made all the more interesting by all the wild life you can see along the way.  Burt and I purchase a new camera with a telephoto lens for a mutual Christmas present, and the results are impressive.  

Osprey in flight along the bridge

 

Tropic bird overhead

Ray swimming along in the sea grass flats

  

Shy sea turtle as seen from the bridge

Manatee mother and calf near a bridge pier - there was another calf nearby

Iguana in mangrove roots along approach to the bridge - notice how its coloration matches the surrounding vegitation

Other days we ride bikes or dinghy out to the beach at Sombrero Point.  It is in a lovely city park and gets pretty lively during the holidays with many of the visitors coming from foreign countries.  I sign up for a pine needle basket making class and am now mastering another “media”.  We attend the weekly Seven Seas Cruising Association lunch at a nearby restaurant. There’s yoga several mornings a week but other plans and cold spells keep me from attending.  Evenings get pretty social.  Almost every night you can find music at some venue, our favorites being the open mic nights at Dockside or the marina tiki hut. One of the frequent performers is a trumpet player in his 90’s who once played backup for Frank Sinatra – he is still pretty darn good.  

Must have spent a lot of time at Dockside as we left Eric Stone with a Sandusky Sailing Club burgee to decorate his newly purchased business - a place for good food and good music

 In between are Happy Hours, Pot Lucks, Game Nights, and dinners with friends. With over 250 boats in the harbor, you would have to try to be lonely.

Sunset in beautiful Boot Key Harbor, Marathon

As usual, Mother Nature intervenes.  We experience a very unusual 5.5 earthquake.  The epicenter is located about 100 miles away, off the Cuban coast.  Shaking buildings are reported in Key West, but I am oblivious to any movement until someone at the dinghy dock mentions that there are no tsunami warnings.  TSUNAMI WARNINGS??? What’s up?  A tsunami in Boot Key Harbor would be unimaginable. We are also struggling with a succession of cold fronts.  If it is frigid up north, it is darn cool in the Keys where on several occasions we are the warmest spot in the Nation.  Nevertheless, on days when the temperature never breaks 60 degrees, it gets pretty chilly on the boat.

We would love to spend more time in Marathon and perhaps explore a few of the other Keys, but we make the decision to head to the Bahamas on the first possible opportunity. We need at least 48 hours of settled weather and wind from the right directions.  It takes several weeks until we see a possibility. We plan to leave on a Monday, and the day before we take one last ride out on the bridge.  One look at the water tells us we should leave ASAP.  In the following two hours we pedal back to the marina, make a last stop at the grocery store, transport the bikes back to the boat, and prepare the boat for an offshore voyage. By 1:45 pm we motor out of the harbor amidst shouts from surrounding boats wishing us a safe passage and enjoyable stay in the Bahamas.  It brings a lump in my throat – we are leaving wonderful friends and a lovely boating community.

We chart a course to head directly out to the Gulf Stream past Sombrero Light.  About ten miles off shore we begin to pick up the current and see an increase in water temperature.  We have found the Stream, and today it is a benign and welcoming place.  At the peak we see a boost of over three knots through the sapphire colored water.  Flying fish lead the way, and towards sunset we pick up a pod of dolphins that keep us entertained.   

Pod of dolphins that kept us company for almost 30 minutes, playing in the bow wave and slapping tails to herd prey

One of the dolphins close up

We are motor sailing with winds between five and ten knots off the beam and watching our progress towards the Bahamas tick off at amazing speeds.  Just before sunrise, we pass from water thousands of feet deep on to the Great Bahama bank with depths in the teens.  The water goes totally flat, and our bow wave is the only thing that distorts our views of the sand and grass bottom.  For most of the day, we see no land.  In the late afternoon we exit the bank into the Tongue of the Ocean and anchor off the south side of Chubb Cay with five other boats that are making the same passage from Marathon. It has been an amazingly easy trip – we both get plenty of rest, cooking hot meals is a breeze, and we enjoy a glass of wine and dinner of grilled lamb chops while gazing out on our first Bahamian sunset.  

Our first Bahamian sunset - taken from anchorage off Chubb Cay

The next morning we hoist the anchor before sunrise and cover the last thirty miles into Nassau. 

Cruise ships at dock welcome you to Nassau

We are in the midst of a parade of boats converging on the port as many more are completing an overnight directly from Miami.  We take a dock at Nassau Harbor Club Marina right at slack tide.  There are so many new arrivals that Customs and Immigration come to the marina to sign all of us in on the patio next to the pool.  We know many of our fellow dockmates and make plans for a Happy Hour that night and dinner out at a nearby restaurant the next night.  Our hope is that the weather will improve this side of the Gulf Stream, but another cold front comes through during the night.  This is the same one that is providing blizzard conditions in the northeast.  Here it is quite windy and cooler than normal. You know it is chilly when the marina staff is wearing jackets. Our quest for warmth continues.

Lotta Catching Up to Do

My credentials as a blogger should be revoked as too much time has elapsed since the last posting, and too many miles have passed beneath our keel during this time – 608 nautical miles to be exact. My apologies to all readers!

November 10 we depart Charleston in the first weather window we have seen in almost two weeks.  We are accompanied by a parade of boats as we exit the harbor and turn south in the Atlantic.  It becomes readily apparent that the fleet of boats is heading into Georgia while we are determined to cover a lot of ground by heading all the way to Cape Canaveral. Come nightfall we are almost 60 miles off shore and all by ourselves.  The seas are placid, and we are motorsailing through the night and, in fact, for the entire 48 hour duration of the passage.  We time our arrival at Canaveral for early morning and make an 8:30 lock opening. After passing the large harbor for the many cruise ships that call Canaveral home, we need to negotiate a lock between the tidal ocean waters and the non-tidal Banana River.  It is a new type of lock for us as once we are in, the gates partially open on the inland side, allowing the water to pour in until we are at the level of the river.  We cross the Banana River and head, via a manmade canal, over to the Indian River and the ICW.  Several hours later, we arrive at Eau Gallie and turn north into the very southern point of the Banana River where it merges into the Indian River. Here, at what is known as Dragon Point, we have excellent protection from the predicted 40 knot winds that will accompany an approaching cold front. It is a pleasant anchorage, as dolphins frequently play near our boat, other cruisers we know are anchored nearby, and we have great access to the village of Indian Point and all its amenities. Big box stores and groceries are accessible by bicycle, and we enjoy riding along the many parks that front the ocean.  One day, as we are riding downwind along the ocean on a bike path, the following gusts are so strong we have to apply the brakes to avoid going out of control.  Needless to say, pedaling back upwind was no easy matter.

The beach near Melbourne on the day of the big blow - no one is out sunbathing!

We are staying in the Eau Gallie/Melbourne area to attend the SSCA Melbourne Gam, a three day event of seminars, social events, and nautical flea markets. As always, it is an enjoyable time, and we meet up with old friends and make new friends.  The cruising community continues to expand for us.

At the conclusion of the Gam, a half day motor on the ICW brings us to Vero Beach (also known as Velcro Beach for obvious reasons), one of our favorite stops.  We plan to stay through Thanksgiving, but as events would have it, we stay much longer.  Vero is a great place for cruisers to stop.  The mooring field is well protected, the marina offers the amenities we want at a reasonable price, and we have access via a free bus to all the shopping anyone could desire in the Vero area. 

 

View of the north anchorage at Vero after Thanksgiving when many of the boats had left

 Thanksgiving is a time when many cruisers congregate here as the community puts on a nice Thanksgiving for us vagabonds. The CLODS (cruisers living on dirt – in other words, ex-cruisers) provide the turkeys and hams, and the rest of us bring the side dishes.  Held at a nearby luxury park pavilion, we pack in over 150 people for the feast, music, and door prizes donated by local merchants.  Vero is a sociable place, perhaps more so as during the busy season boats are required to raft together on the moorings.  We initially raft with Amici, trawler friends from Connecticut, and, upon their departure, Interlude, who we met in the Bahamas, pulls in for the remainder of our stay.  We definitely enjoy the company. There a numerous happy hours both at the marina and on boats. 

Weekly Happy Hour/Jam session at the marina - it is surprisingly good music.

One night we meet up with two couples who are CLODS, join them for dinner at a locals’ favorite restaurant on the ocean, and then return to one house for an evening of Sequence, a popular game among cruisers.   Another night we take lawn chairs and head to a park for a street fair and music from a performing arts high school in Miami.  And yet another night, we accompany friends to the local theater, which is in walking distance, for a comedy club. Each Sunday we take dinghies to a park where we cross over to the ocean side and enjoy a leisurely breakfast with endless coffee and chat. 

One Sunday's breakfast bunch - the crews of Interlude, Sirius, and Exuberant

Walking along the beach to work off that big breakfast

Vero is still relatively close to the space center and one evening, as we settle down to a sunset glass of wine, we see a bright ball approaching from the northeast.  We determine it is not one of the many planes that pass overhead, and after a bit, we make out that it is a rocket launch.  We watch in amazement as the rocket discards several stages and finally approaches that point in the atmosphere where a cone of vapor(?) forms a cone in front of it. It is the first rocket launch I have ever seen close up, and it is spectacular. The marina sponsors a Christmas Lighted Boat Parade, and we float out in the river in the dinghy to enjoy the small but colorful parade. 

Part of the boat Parade - not the best picture but you get the idea

Finally, we bike all through the barrier island neighborhoods with their moss draped live oaks, multiple varieties of palms, and stately homes with colorful tropical landscaping. Oceanside Vero is definitely upscale. On the downside, during the 24 days we stay at Vero, we get over 12 inches of rain.  The decks are clean of salt, but the mosquitoes and no-see-ums are out in force.

But Vero isn’t all fun and games.  As soon as we arrive, we make an appointment to have a semi-annual teeth cleaning and checkup.  Burt has had a few teeth chip over the last months, and we discover the situation is a bit more serious than we thought.  He is scheduled to get three crowns, something we had hoped to postpone until we were in Ohio in the spring. Chalk off two weeks of trips to and from the dentist office.  All seems to go well, and we are thankful that in an emergency situation we were able to find a capable dentist. 

While we are in Vero, Burt is going to install new wind instruments.  Our old ones were original with the boat and not always reliable, and this task will replace the last of our old electronics. Replacing the wind instruments requires ascending the mast.  It is not too difficult as we have an electric winch to do the hoisting, but unless you are really fond of heights, it is not a favorite pastime.  I man the winch, and Burt goes up in a boson’s chair.  We successfully feed through the new wiring and bolt on the new instruments with a succession of necessary tools hoisted in a bucket on a separate halyard.  All is going smoothly until Burt notices that the wire in our forestay is untwisting.  This is definitely NOT GOOD, and he takes many pictures to send off to Mack Sails who redid our rigging a year ago in nearby Stuart, FL. Now, Burt is getting very experienced with ascending masts, as he makes multiple trips up to assess the situation and collect information, along with one trip up Interlude’s mast to install a new bulb in their anchor light.  

Picture of the unraveling forestay from the top of the mast.

 The only plus side is that you get some interesting pictures from 60 feet up.   

View of Exuberant and Interlude from 60 feet up.

Mack Sails decides that the forestay needs to be replaced and the cause of the failure diagnosed.  They schedule a visit on a Monday, and we reserve the marina courtesy dock for that day.  But, when Monday dawns, they are still finishing up another project, and don’t arrive at our boat until 4:30 pm (remember the sun sets at 5:30). It will definitely take more than an hour, and we scurry to gather up all the flashlights and other light sources available.  The rigger goes up the mast and disconnects the forestay and furler, and it is lowered to the dock. Four of us pitch in to remove the old forestay from the furler foil, fabricate a new forestay, and reassemble it into the foil.  It is now dark and flashlights and headlights provide our light.  We determine that the foil had slid down the stay, allowing it to catch individual wires and untwist them.  The solution is to fabricate a means of preventing this slippage. Between two riggers and one engineer, this is accomplished, and the entire unit is reattached to the mast, all in the dark of night.  By 8:30 pm we are whole again, but just a bit unnerved as we could have easily lost the mast if this had gone undetected.  Mack Sails graciously charged us nothing for the replacement, but we will now be checking our rigging on a more regular basis.

The teeth are good, the rigging has been repaired, and the boat is well stocked, so we are off to the Miami area on an overnight motorsail just off the coast.  It is a parade of shore lights along south Florida coast as we stay less than one half mile offshore to avoid the adverse Gulf Stream currents. The sunrise is spectacular with towering cumulous clouds forming over the Gulf Stream. 

Sunrise with clouds over the Gulf Stream

We pass Miami just after sunrise and head a bit further south to tuck in behind Key Biscayne. We anchor off No Name Harbor and enjoy the views across the Bay and towards Miami.  There are many other boats anchored near us awaiting a weather window to head over to the Bahamas. During the day, we take our bikes into the state park to bicycle its paths and access the remainder of Key Biscayne.  One day is spent relaxing on the Atlantic side beach and enjoying a leisurely lunch at the park’s Cuban restaurant.   

Restored lighthouse at Cape Florida beach

It is no surprise that there is a Cuban restaurant in the park (in fact, there are two) as we rarely hear English spoken in this part of Florida. Another evening, the Key Biscayne Yacht Club sponsors Christmas Boat Parade through our anchorage, this one a bit more elaborate than the one at Vero. While we are at anchor, we determine that our VHF radio is no longer receiving transmissions – that would explain why it seems so quiet.  We don’t like the constant chatter on the radio, but it certainly is an important safety feature. We move into the protection of No Name Harbor, and Burt once again ascends the mast to check the connections.  The connections are cleaned, dielectric grease is applied, and resistance within the wiring is tested, but we see no improvement. The unit will have to be removed and sent in to the manufacturer once we arrive in Marathon.  Meanwhile, a handheld VHF will have to suffice. As one friend says, if nothing is broken at any given time on a boat, you just haven’t looked hard enough.

More scenes from the top of the mast - parkland of Key Biscayne in the foreground with Miami in the distance

The entrance to No Name Harbor with Biscayne Bay in the distance

So, we are off to Marathon, a two day cruise down the delightful Hawk Channel.  The first day we make excellent progress motorsailing in a strong wind from the stern.  Seventy miles later, we drop anchor on the south side of Long Key with enough protection from the strong winds to have a peaceful night.  The next day we cover the remaining twenty miles, reaching in flat water under sail alone.  With its smooth aqua colored water, Hawk Channel is one of the best sailing venues we see in our cruising year.   Too soon we arrive in Marathon’s Boot Key Harbor. Like Vero, we know many boats here, and the coming month will be filled with more boat projects, many social gatherings, and opportunities to bike along the old Seven Mile Bridge and dinghy to the ocean side beach.  Life is good, life is warm, and we have a bit of survivors’ guilt as we hear about the succession of winter storms harassing the northern states.  Every morning while eating breakfast in the cockpit, we hear on the Cruiseheimer’s Net reports of the low temperatures further north. We are thankful that we have broken the grip of winter weather that followed us so far south. 

Dawn with a full moon over Boot Key Harbor

And thus, Burt joins me in extending to all our readers wishes for a very Merry Christmas, a joyous holiday season, and all the best for the coming year.

Burr, It’s Cold Out Here

Burt modeling the latest in cold weather attire - notice the enclosure surrounding the cockpit

We make a calculated decision.  It has gotten quite cold and will stay that way for days on end.  At this point we would typically head off shore to Charleston, but that would require anchoring out for five days to await a weather window, a cold and miserable alternative. So, our other option is to begin the slog down the ICW under motor.  With the motor running and the cockpit enclosed, the temperatures are bearable. Depths are a real issue for us, and our eyes are glued to the depth sounder, chartplotter, and hazard warnings that come up on the Active Captain web site on our tablet.  It is not relaxing, but we’re glad we aren’t in the ocean with the cold and windy conditions.  We mark our progress south with observations of our surroundings. Our first pelicans appear in the southern Chesapeake, our first dolphin is sighted near Beaufort, NC, moss draped live oaks become plentiful in the Waccamaw, and the first naturally occurring palm trees are near Charleston.  The days underway and evenings at anchor tick off: Swansboro, Carolina Beach, North Myrtle Beach (where we actually have frost in the morning), Georgetown, and finally Charleston.  There are interesting sights and activities along the way. We see many shrimp boats plying the shoaling inlets in North Carolina.

A shrimper returning to port

Dave and Abby Taylor from the Sandusky Sailing Club, who later meet up with us in Charleston for a walk and lunch, wave from their campsite just south of Myrtle Beach. 

The Taylors wave to us as we pass along the ICW.

The beautiful Waccamaw River leads us through wilderness swamps of live oaks and cypress.   

The beautiful and isolated Waccamaw River

We spend an evening with a college friend and her husband in Georgetown where they take us on a tour of the area and treat us to dinner at their rental home.  Soon they will begin construction on their own home in this lovely community sandwiched between the ocean and conservation areas.  The ICW wanders through an endless sea of grass just north of Charleston. 

Just north of Charleston

So, we arrive in Charleston and drop anchor just opposite the City Marina in a designated anchorage.  We’re in the cheap seats, but we’re not too far from the other extreme.  Just across the channel from us, Rising Sun is tied up to the Mega Dock. 

Rising Sun - note the mast heights of the large sailboats behind it for a sense of scale

And this is a mega boat.  At 453 feet, it is the 10^th largest mega-yacht in the world.  David Geffen is the current owner, but until recently it was co-owned by Geffen and Larry Ellison. It certainly is a beauty and draws lots of attention from Charleston residents.  People are strolling the dock, mouths agape, and lots of boats are passing by in the channel to gawk.  We enjoy watching the action through our binoculars, becoming paparazzi without a telescopic lens.  So, here in the cheap seats we are besieged every evening, starting sometime between 4:00 and 5:00 by masses of large starlings.  The sky almost turns black as they fly from the city towards our location.  They are in a mood to roost after spending the day munching on purple berries.  After all, man and beast both enjoy a good perch for the sunset.  Our first night we don’t respond fast enough and are under siege.  They have congregated on the stays and spreaders and are in the process of depositing the day’s munchies on our deck and canvas.  The berries must have seeds as it sound like bee-bees hitting the deck.  Our solution is to attach a dock line to the backstay and twang the stay whenever the birds descend.  This can be done from the cockpit in the evening and, by running the line through the aft hatch, from our bed in the morning when they also make a briefer appearance.  But, these are equal opportunity birds, and they enjoy roosting on Rising Sun every bit as much as on the anchored sailboats.  In fact, with 453 feet of luxury to occupy, they may even prefer Rising Sun to us.  The crew has erected two yellow scary balls (available at West Marine) and one plastic owl to ward them off, but from our vantage point it appears the birds are even landing on these defenses.  And we’re talking hundreds and hundreds of pooping birds. Come sunset, all the mayhem ends and the birds take off for the trees on nearby islands. Come morning, after the am fly-by, the 45 person crew of Rising Sun is on deck hosing down all 453 feet of multiple decks. Rumor is spreading that Rising Sun will be departing on Thursday.  On Tuesday the cleaning activity takes on a more fevered pitch.  Power washers are brought out, and integrated scaffolding is deployed to wash windows.  Outdoor furniture is uncovered and cleaned. Problem is, once everything is sparkling, the birds will again descend – didn’t anyone tell this hard working crew? Thursday finally arrives and the crew gives the boat one final cleaning before they depart the dock, just before the evening arrival of the birds, and anchor in the outer harbor.  We suspect a helicopter (yes, it has a helicopter landing pad) will deposit the guests away from the prying eyes of Charleston.  The next morning it departs to an undisclosed destination. 

Our first project upon arriving in Charleston is to replace our starting battery.  The not-all-that old one is showing rapid deterioration, and we dare not move until we are sure the engine will start again.  We also discover that a fan has failed in the refrigeration system, so a new one is overnight freighted to us.  With the several repairs completed, we have missed the one weather window for heading further south in the ocean.  From here to the Florida line, it is almost impossible for a boat with our draft to use the ICW.  Thus we will be in Charleston for an extended visit.  We move the boat a few hundred yards farther south, further away from the birds’ flight path, and find that we now have very few uninvited guests. And we begin our life as tourists.  Almost daily we take bicycle rides through the beautiful historical town with its winding streets and century or multi-century old homes. 

A stately home with ivy growing on the vertical surfaces of the entrance steps

A traditional Charleston home with the multi-story porches facing south

Lovely gardens are tucked along side many homes

Colorful facades protected by earthquake bolts - the fault under Charleston is the second most active in the US

We take a walking tour of the old city and learn lots of historic tidbits that we never learned in 11^th grade history, all from a southern perspective.  We visit a restored mansion where, from its second story porch, General Beauregard directed the bombardment of Fort Sumter. We bicycle to the campus of the Citadel and find it a strange place where cadets march between classes and the buildings have a sameness that reminds you of a legoland reproduction.   

The Citadel - Burt thought he was walking through White Castle heaven

We meet up with our trawler friends (remember the happy hour tour in Cape May?) for another entertaining happy hour at a pub that specializes in oysters. And we just enjoy the opportunity to immerse ourselves in a city and culture that is distinctly Charleston. 

Even in the Fall, the flower boxes never cease to amaze

With the storms offshore, our anchorage is packed with boats awaiting better conditions.  One nearby boat drags anchor while the owners are away.  The current is moving it past the other anchored boats at a surprising rate of speed.  Burt and three other men take to dinghies and maneuver the boat so it doesn’t hit any of the other boats. Finally, one man is able to get aboard the runaway boat and lay out more rode, allowing the anchor to reset.  We have met the owners of this boat and have their phone number, so we eventually make contact and relay the message that they need to return to their boat and re-anchor. All ends well, we are given a bottle of wine and an “award” stating we are the cruising neighbors of the year.  But this kind of vigilance and cooperation within the cruising community is not unusual.  Someday, someone, someplace, will assist us in a similar manner.  (And as an aside, this is the second boat we have seen drag in this anchorage.  Both boats had put out trip lines on their anchors, and the trip lines became entangled with the anchor rode or rudder during current changes, disengaging the anchors. We do not use trip lines in situations where there are strong reversing currents.)

The constant cold fronts are going to take a break, and we hope to head all the way to Cape Canaveral via the ocean.  It’s been a tough time for those who ventured out earlier.  On our SSB net we have heard of a dismasting, lose of a rudder, and a broken fuel pump in a fleet of boats heading from Norfolk to the Caribbean. There is talk of another boat sinking and the captain being rescued in a state of severe dehydration.  The Coast Guard has had a very busy 24 hours! We’re happy that we are able to spend this down time in such a nice location, but we’re looking forward to Florida and more comfortable temperatures.

Get Thee an Ark

We’ve got the perfect location in Annapolis – a mooring ball right off the boat show and the Naval Academy. Life should be great, right?  But, not so.  It is raining cats and dogs.  It is a good thing we are afloat and not on land in Annapolis as there are daily urban flood warnings. Sometimes the pounding rain seems like we’re besieged by a stream from a fire hose.  And it keeps on for days.  The Sailboat Show opens, and we volunteer to work the Seven Seas Cruising Association booth for the first morning.  Just getting there takes some creativity as we need to ford flooding water about a foot deep.  The booth gets very little business as the show goers are spending their time inside the big tents where water leaks through but at least doesn’t saturate a person. The traditional sundowner on Pussar’s deck gets a definite thumbs down, and we take a soggy dinghy ride back to the boat to dry off and warm up.  During the following days the rain moderates but never lets up.  There is a low pressure system overhead that just doesn’t want to move off the coast.  Rain totals will be close to 10 inches for this miserable week.  Out of desperation we head back to the show as visitors, dressing in foul weather gear and flip flops to visit some of the boats.  It is worth the effort as we have an opportunity to see an 80+ foot Swan, a Chris White designed catamaran with rotating wing masts (we visit just on the heels of James Spithill, darn!), several big Hylases and a 70 foot Gunboat catamaran.  We also pick up some bargains for future boat projects. (Will we ever be done?)

Monday finally dawns rainless, which is a good thing as we are getting new anchor chain delivered compliments of West Marine standing by their products and replacing our chain which rusted out way too soon. It should be an easy task but doing this via dinghy gets a bit more complicated.  We load the primary anchor (73 lbs) and 120 feet of rusty chain into the dinghy, take it to a landing, unload it on to the sidewalk, and wait for the delivery truck.  When it arrives, we move the new chain to the sidewalk, measure it out into 25 foot increments in order to mark it, and load the old chain into the truck.  Once the new chain is marked, it is attached to the anchor and fed back into the dinghy. When we return to Exuberant, the chain is attached to new rope rode which is also marked and then all is fed back into the chain locker, being careful not to abrade the dinghy in the process.  Burt estimates it will take about an hour – reality is that it takes a good chunk out of the day. 

Monday is the last day of the boat show and the bewitching hour strikes at 5 pm.  The gun sounds and work boats spring into action.  The outer show boats begin leaving while dock sections are removed to allow inner boats to initiate their escape.  In less than two hours several hundred sailboats have passed by our boat in a carefully choreographed parade.  We witness the chaos from the bow of the boat, wine in hand, with the backdrop of a lovely sunset. It is spectacular and, for many, the highpoint of the boat show.  

The big Gunboat is the first to cast off the docks just after 5 pm

 

The 80+ foot Swan cruises right off our bow on its way out of Annapolis

For the next six days we will be traveling from sunrise to sunset, trying to get south as fast as possible.  And an interesting thing happens that is indicative of what life as cruisers is like.  Over the past two years we have made many friends within this small community and now we all coalesce with similar goals of getting south.  The first night we make it to the mouth of the Potomac River where we anchor next to Margaret and Ken on Rocking B. We met them in Marathon and the Bahamas last year and enjoyed Ken’s talented keyboard playing at many a gathering. They are headed to the Caribbean this year with the Salty Dog Rally, so we bid them farewell.  The next night we anchor near Deltaville, VA to visit our friends Claire and Andrew on Eye Candy.  They are the Australian couple  we met during the summer of 2012, and they will also be participating in the Salty Dog and then head across the Pacific to Australia. So this, sadly, will be our last evening with them.   

The Eye Candy Crew - from left, Claire, Deb (Andrew's sister who will help crew to the Caribbean) and Andrew - we will miss them!

The following day we transit Norfolk where it is always thrilling to pass by the huge naval ships along the river.  

We pass by these two aircraft carriers in our dinghy - we are certainly feeling small.

 We anchor near Brenda and Bob on Pandora.  We met them in the Bahamas last year.  They join us to go to the Commodore Theater for dinner and a movie.  This art deco theater has been lovingly restored with the regular seats replaced by tables and comfortable upholstered chairs, and we watch the excellent first run movie, “Captain Phillips”, an appropriate movie for a seagoing crew. 

The Commodore Theater - the mural depicts the industry of the area in the 1930 's - ship building and aeronautics

The alarm is set for 6 am for an early start, but it seems lighter than normal.  Look at what has just pulled in across the river from our anchorage!

The next day we have a difficult morning transiting the bridges and single lock at the beginning of the ICW.  We manage to arrive at one bridge with over 20 boats, large and small, awaiting an opening.  Just upstream of us a tug with a very long tow of pipe has occupied the lock for over an hour, putting the scheduled openings out of whack. We mill around with even more boats for 45 minutes awaiting the lock opening. It is announced that not all of the boats will fit in the lock at once so the stragglers will have to wait another hour for the next opening.  Now the pushing really gets out of hand.  We hear much yelling although none of the boats we can see have hit.  It aggravates us as we were early at the first bridge and were first in line – now we are somewhere close to the back as we want to maintain some room around us during this feeding frenzy. As the lock doors open and the boats queue into line, I announce, in a somewhat loud, obnoxious voice, to a nearby boat that was also originally at the front of the line, that we have been victims of some very rude boating behavior.  Several of the nearby boats overhear, and, feeling embarrassed, a few let us in ahead, making us one of the last boats able to enter the lock.  Nerves are frayed and we tie up on a nearby wall on the other side of the lock, just behind Marty and Matt on Runaway who we met our first season in Vero Beach. It has taken us 5 ½ hours to transit 11 miles.

The following two days are spent transiting a remote section of the ICW through northern North Carolina. Here cell coverage and internet are mostly non-existent.  The first night we drop anchor just north of Albemarle Sound where there is no sign of life on shore.  The next night we stop at an equally remote bay just south of Bellehaven with no other boats around.  These are beautiful, tranquil locations but places where most people won’t stop. 

Sunrise off Slade Creek with "smoke on the water".  This time of year our mornings can be a bit chilly. 

A typical sight along this portion of the ICW

We re-enter civilization when we drop into River Dunes Resort for two nights.  This is a luxury residential and marina development, just outside of Oriental, NC that is struggling due to the real estate bust.  They gave us a two nights for the price of one voucher at the boat show, and we intend to redeem it. When we pull into our dock we realize that Chris and Craig on Tilt are two slips down.  We met them early in our cruising adventure and see them in the Bahamas. River Dunes puts out the red carpet for us.  We bike around the development that goes for miles, admiring the few beautiful homes that have been built and the lovely landscaping.  We luxuriate in steam showers and sit along the terraced pool and hot tub complex.  The resort puts on a delicious cruisers’ dinner of lasagna in the club house dining room attended by around 50 visiting boaters. Joining our table are Bev and David on Cloverleaf. An elderly couple who have transitioned from a sailboat to a trawler, we met them through SSCA where they are legends within the cruising community.  And that evening we gather around a fire pit to visit with some of the other cruisers before the mosquitoes drive us back to the boat. The next day we do boat chores and a little bicycling. That evening Freedom with Chris and Ed aboard pulls in, and we have them over for Happy Hour.  We first met Freedom the summer of 2010 when we both were cruising the North Channel of Lake Huron.   Now, they, too, have transitioned to the Atlantic coast.

So, we have traveled about 320 nautical miles since leaving Annapolis. And, on all but two evenings, we have been in the company of boaters we know and have spent time with in the past.  This is not meant to be an exercise in name dropping, but, rather, it is an attempt to illustrate the closeness of the cruising community. The bottom line is that cruisers who make an effort are never lonely.  It is a small community of people with similar interests and fascinating, diverse backgrounds.  These people become our friends, our support, our community. It is hard to bid a permanent farewell to those who are leaving us, but we know others will follow to take their places.

Looking in Other Directions

Our cruising life this past month is not following our typical pattern.  Once we arrive in Newport the focus is on family and plans for our son Bryan’s upcoming wedding.  We do take a little time off for several bike rides along Newport’s incredible Ocean Drive, we tour the Elms, another of Newport’s restored mansions, and enjoy the annual classic boat race and parade that take place right off our anchorage near Fort Adams.  

The stately Elms, another of Newport's impressive mansions

We are in a hurry, though, to get south to the Chesapeake.  Tropical weather has a knack for fouling up plans, but this year we seem most fortunate as there is nothing threatening on the horizon.  We dash down the length of Long Island Sound in two days, transit New York City on a favorable current, 

Coming into New York City - it is much easier on a boat than in a car, as we discovered a few weeks later.

and set off down the New Jersey coast for an overnight passage, again accompanied by biting flies – perhaps this is a New Jersey thing.   We arrive in Cape May and are immediately beckoned by friends from several trawlers to join them on a tour of Cape May’s Happy Hours. Sleep deprived, we follow along as our group bikes through the town stopping at pre-selected watering holes. The moral, trawler folks sure know how to have a good time.  We get a few hours of sleep and pull anchor at the unheard of hour of 2 am to begin the trip around Cape May and up the Delaware River.  Why would anyone leave at such a ridiculous hour? Because, timing the currents in the Delaware and subsequently in the C&D Canal is essential to a pleasant trip.  We really nail the currents this time, sometimes seeing up to three knots of push, and pull into Still Pond in the northern reaches of the Chesapeake for a well deserved night’s rest.  The next day it is an easy hop down to Annapolis.

Our time in Annapolis is dedicated to boat projects and some serious cleaning.  After a couple of days at a mooring ball, we move down to the South River and a dock.  Give us water, electricity, and a rental car, and it is amazing what can be accomplished.  In the span of one week, the boat is scrubbed inside and out.  Cupboards are emptied and cleaned; woodwork is wiped down in an attempt to rid ourselves of this summer’s accumulation of mildew.  Topsides are waxed, the cockpit cleaned of our collection of dead flies and assorted remnants of summer happy hours. We touch up some varnish work. The canvas is removed, cleaned of mildew, restitched, and restitched again by a professional as we discover all of the thread has rotted out in the UV. (Moral – all canvas that will see tropical UV should be stitched with Gore-tex thread.)  The interior cushions and rug are steamed cleaned.  And finally, after inventorying all our supplies and provisions, we restock for the winter, filling every conceivable spot with what we assume are necessities. There are always some miscalculations, though, and I suspect we have enough toilet paper aboard for several years.

Exhausted, we depart for Narragansett, Rhode Island, this time by rental car.  Beth and Bryan are to be married on September 21, and we leave several days early to stock our rental house and tie up last minute details.  It is interesting driving inland of the path we so recently took along the shore.  Names on the Interstate signs remind us of the coast we know so well.  It is a wonderful extended weekend with family arriving from all over the country.  In our free time we enjoy taking them to sights we have enjoyed during our cruising – no one from our family is very familiar with the New England coast.  One day we head to Boston with the grandsons (ages 3 & 6) to visit the New England Aquarium and go whale watching.  The tour company we choose claims to see whales 99% of the time – we managed to be the 1% exception.  The day is beautiful, though, and we enjoy the cruise out of the Boston Harbor and on to the Stillwagen Banks. Another day we take a group over to Newport to see what lurks there in the post season.  Luxury sailboats and mega-yachts populate the harbor as they undertake preparations for heading south to the Caribbean.

How about this beauty, getting a few touch ups before the trip south

Saturday dawns with questionable weather for the wedding.  We chew our nails and fortunately the cold front doesn’t pass through until well into the night.  It is a spectacular early fall day worthy of this special celebration.  The vows are exchanged overlooking Narragansett Bay, and we dance into the night with the sound of waves nearby.   

What an amazing setting for a wedding!

The overnight rain clears by mid-morning, and we take the ferry over to Block Island to bike around this beautiful island.  The summer crowds have left, and we often have the roads to ourselves.  The grandsons enjoy riding on tag-a-long bikes through the hilly terrain and hiking down the steep cliffs to a placid ocean.   

The cliffs on the south side of Block Island

It has been an incredible and memorable weekend.

We drive back to Annapolis, and put a few finishing touches on the boat.  We are now in the final days of the America’s Cup Finals and what better place to watch these exciting races than in Annapolis, also know as “a drinking town with a sailing problem”.  For three afternoons we head over to the Boatyard, a well know sailor hang out and watch the races on their widescreen TV’s. Each day it gets more crowded and rowdy, and by the final day I find myself squashed into a corner while Burt is pinned on the other side of the room.  The crowd is electric and by the time Oracle has crossed the finish line, we are all close to hysteria.  Who knew that watching sailboat racing on TV could be this exciting? 

We leave our comfortable dock, a real treat for those who are almost always at anchor, and head 15 miles south to the Rhode River and the site of this year’s Seven Seas Cruising Association’s Annapolis Gam.  Two years ago, when we attended our first Gam after leaving the Great Lakes, we knew no one.  Now we are definitely part of the cruising community and greet so many friends that we have met traveling both north and south.  This year we welcome Andrea and Mike Ogline who have just arrived from our home club in Sandusky to begin their own sailing adventure on the east coast. The Gam features educational seminars and an assortment of social events, and the weekend passes in a blur.  We move further south to meet up with some cruising friends that have spent the last month in Baltimore. Our two boats are the only ones anchored along the Strand at Oxford, MD.  We share some dinners together and bike around this charming, historic town. 

Cutts and Case is a boatyard that builds classic motor and sail yachts - the launch in the window, Foto, was restored here. Originally, it ferried Rosenfeld, famous for his black and white sailboat photos now preserved at Mystic Seaport, on his shoots.

And we just sit on the boat enjoying the beautiful and peaceful setting.  At this point we need an opportunity to decompress after such a busy month.

Exuberant at anchor for sunset on the Tred Avon River, Oxford, MD

But, decompression can only last so long, so we return to Annapolis.  It is Boat Show Time and for some lucky reason, we are able to snag a mooring ball just off the Naval Academy and the Boat Show venue. The Power Boat Show is first and from our mooring we watch the last of the big power boats jockey into their docks.  This will be the antithesis of our Oxford experience – crowds and noise will surround us, but location is everything, and we are prepared to spend the next ten days immersed  this boating mecca. We will finish up a few projects as necessary supplies and contractors are close at hand, work the opening morning of the sailboat show at the SSCA booth, do a little shopping at the show, meet up with friends, and just enjoy the carnival atmosphere before we begin our migration south.