Howard

Work And Play In Las Olas

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Once we were tied up in our slip on Saturday, we plugged in, cooled off, checked in, iced down the coolers, took out the trash, cooled off again (it was 93 and hu-mid!), showered, fed ourselves (and Howard), and collapsed. Yesterday morning, we spent a few hours washing the boat, while we had endless water.

We are staying at Las Olas Marina, which is right off of Fort Lauderdale Beach.

Our neighbors here at the marina are definitely large,

And so are the people across the street,

Despite being right near a drawbridge, and right off of A1A, it’s very quiet here. We see schools of fish swim by frequently, and when the tide changes, we’re treated to a parade of coconuts!

Our brother-in-law has family here, and they have been gracious enough to allow us to have packages sent to their house over the past few weeks. Yesterday afternoon, Mark and Shannon brought us our boxes and we gave them a quick boat tour. Then we went for lunch at the Quarterdeck, where Mark and Shannon’s daughter Nikki works. Their friend Pepe joined us, and we had a great meal, with terrific service and company. Afterward, Nikki took a photo for us.

And, and old school selfie!

They are good peeps! Thanks to Bobby for sharing them!!

When we got back, we opened our various packages, most being things for boat projects and maintenance. Howard loves when we get packages, it means a new playhouse!

Once the cardboard carnage was cleaned up, we set to defrosting the freezer, which had been growing more angry at the build up of ice in it.

Today, we went back to old school boat work. We painted our decks last year, after having trashed them while refitting the boat. Over this past year, they’ve gotten trashed again, during our extensive varnishing and painting projects.While we have plugged-in power, we want to have the decks ready to paint, when we have time and good weather.

I scraped my varnish drippings, and then dug out some areas of old caulk, so Scott could replace it. Then we dug out the sanding bin, and I reacquainted myself with my old friends: my knee pads, dust mask and goggles…and, of course my orbital sander! For those of you who don’t know, this has been my wardrobe for most of the last two years:

Armed with 80 grit sand paper, I scuffed the decks.

In the meantime, Scott was addressing small cracks in the faring compound that was used when the original teak decks were replaced. They are in various places around the deck surface. He used a dremel tool to dig out the crack, and get down to good surface. Then came his old friend…epoxy! It was a hot, sweaty day, but now the decks are ready for painting….and we’re ready to put that stuff away again!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Closing In On South Florida

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Yesterday we continued through Central Florida, traveling nine hours to Melbourne. Our friend Matt Tove moved here a year ago, and we made plans to meet for dinner. We hadn’t seen him in five years, so stopping here was a definite!

This stretch of the Intracoastal is unexciting. Not much to look at, and a lot of simple but tedious navigating. We did have a few visitors travel with us for awhile though, breaking up the monotony.

We anchored for the night in a cove just off of the Intracoastal, where Matt, and his fiancee Julie live. Scott took the dingy to pick them up, and brought them to see the boat. After a complete tour, we all went back to shore, where they hosted us for dinner. We had a great meal, and spent time catching up until late in the evening. A big thanks to you both, for a wonderful time!

This morning, Scott took me on a dingy ride, to search for manatees. I believe that these animals are made up, so that slow speeds can be enforced along the southern waterways. In the five months that we spent going south in 2008-2009, I saw one manatee, next to a restaurant. I believe it was a robotic marketing scheme. Julie and Matt claimed that there were many, many manatees just up the river from their condominium, so Scott was determined to have me see them. We saw some swirls in the water, which is supposed to be their tail fin moving, but I saw nothing surface. I remain a non-believer.

After our search for mythical creatures, we traveled seven hours, and anchored just off of the Fort Pierce inlet. The water color changed to a pretty blue just as we crossed under the Fort Pierce bridge. Howard has decided that he now likes spending travel days in the guest stateroom

Tomorrow, we will officially enter South Florida! Here are a few photos from the last two days.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

South To New Smyrna Beach

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We slipped our lines off of the mooring ball this am, and caught the 9:30 opening at the Bridge of Lions. The weather was beautiful for our trip south, with sun and clouds, and temperatures hovering right around 80.

We’re back in central Florida, which means more and more bridges. Most of the drawbridges have been replaced with higher ones that we can pass under with no trouble. However, we still need to have some of the ones that remain opened for us. Some open upon request (yay!), but others have timed openings (ever hour or half hour, etc.). With the tide and current constantly changing our speed, it becomes challenging to get to the bridge at just the right time (boo!). We spent a lot of time pushing our speed today, trying to make an opening. It was also a day where we had to pay a lot of attention to navigation, with channel markers having moved, and regular jogs right and left.

Howard was very out of sorts with today’s journey. He’d become really good with being underway, especially on the calmer waters of the Intracoastal, but today, he wasn’t feeling it. He also gets really fidgety and scared when we pass under a bridge, or when boat pass by us with any kind of speed, which happened regularly today. These things usually send him running for the shower in the master head.Try as I might to calm him and keep him with us in the pilot house, the shower is where he spent most of today..poor Howard.

After nine hours of navigating, we anchored for the night in New Smyrna Beach. We were treated to a double rainbow, and a view of the ocean surf!

Howard was happy to get some fresh air, and check out the surroundings

We’ve now traveled approximately 1,000 miles!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Squeezing South Toward Beaufort, SC

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This morning, we left Charleston at about 9:30. Scott was aiming for slack tide (when the tide is neither coming in or going out, resulting in near zero current), making it easier for us to get out of our slip. The currents around the marina make docking a challenge.

We  had planned to go out of the inlet, and do an ocean run to Fernandina Beach, Florida, but the weather isn’t cooperating.

Lesson courtesy of Scott, dumbed down by me:

There is a strong low pressure system off of the coast, causing stronger than normal winds, and bigger than normal waves. Usually, a high pressure system will come along an move it, or the natural progression of weather will move it off shore. However, this thing is stubborn. It won’t move, and has had the eye of the National Hurricane Center. However, by all accounts, it should be out of our way by the weekend, allowing us a more favorable ocean passage.

In the meantime, instead of paying for three or four more days at a slip, we decided to weave our way south toward Beaufort SC (I was recently reminded by my good friend, and experienced cruiser, Sue, that you are always headed toward somewhere, and not to somewhere, never knowing what weather and water will bring). The Intracoastal from Charleston south is in sad shape. It hasn’t been kept up well, due to the economy, and budget restraints. It has many areas that have “shoaled,” or filled in, from here all the way through to south Florida. Sea Life draws more water than our last boat, so we have to be even more careful than normal navigating this time.

Our plan is to hit the shallowest points at higher tide, getting the best water level. So far, we’ve squeezed through two of them. Scott meant to photograph one area, where the channel markers are clearly off of where the “pink line” of the chart plotter tells you to go. He’s always preaching to me to watch the water and the depth finder, as opposed to the “pink line,” and today is a reason why. So far, we are snaking through just fine, even after passing this channel marker that is almost completely submerged, at low tide. At high tide, it won’t be visible at all:

Good thing Howard is “happily” on watch:

We’re seeing many oyster beds along this route. They are very visible, with the big tide change in this area. Unfortunately, you cannot eat them, as they spend too much time out of the water. Fortunately, there are a great many of them, resulting in cleaner water!

The hope is to make Beaufort, SC this evening, but depending on tide and current, we may settle for somewhere north of that. We don’t intend to go into Beaufort, choosing to do a night or so on a mooring ball. I’m still wading through things here on board, finding permanent places for toiletries, canned goods, etc. A day at anchor, with no landfall, allows me to catch up a bit. On Friday, we plan to head out of the Beaufort inlet at midday, for a 24 or so hour run to Fernandina Beach inlet, which is just inside the Florida border.

We don’t plan to be at a marina, plugged into power and with endless water, for another 2-3 weeks, so this will be a good test run for the near future of our life “on the hook!” Here are more photos.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Our First Ocean Leg: Beaufort, North Carolina to Charleston, South Carolina

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Please forgive me, this one is long. A lot of hours and details to cover…settle in.

Our ocean journey took us out of the Beaufort inlet, and then straight for a point off of Cape Fear, where we would make a turn to put us in another straight line before making the turn toward Charleston inlet and harbor.

I started out planning to document our ocean journey every so often, save it in  my lap top, and then just upload it to the blog when were in internet range again. It was a good idea, just not feasible at the end of the trip. Here’s what I started with:

6:30 am: We planned to leave at the first crack of light on the 15th. When the first crack of light came, it became clear that we weren’t the only ones with this plan. Two others boat near us fired up their motors, and other stuff went past the docks as well (ferries, fishing boats, etc). We waited until the big guys left, to avoid them passing us while pushing a wall of water in front of them, and leaving a painful wake.

7:00 am: The Beaufort inlet is very wide, much more so than what I’m used to in Ocean City, MD. And, thankfully, there is much less traffic coming out to fish. We are currently officially in the ocean, and things are good!

7:30 am: At 6 am, I gave Howard something to “calm” him, and hopefully prevent nausea, as we’ll get more “roll-ly” toward the end of the day. At first, It took the edge off enough that he wanted to walk around, jump up onto the “dashboard” area of the helm, go downstairs to look for food (he can’t have any for 6 hours), wander around the saloon and jump up onto the counters. All while wobbling around, and just missing falling and cracking his head. He is now fighting a coma sleep, with much eye squinting.

8:00 am: We are currently in one foot waves and 3-4 foot swells. There are almost always swells in the ocean, caused by far away winds. We don’t have any weather to speak of where we are, but weather happening farther north drives the swells south. This happens all over the ocean. In addition, local wind causes waves to develop on top of, and along with the swells. For the moment, this swell/wave combination is very tolerable.

12:26 pm: My 7 hour watch started at noon. I took a nap for about an hour, while Scott was on watch. Trying to sleep is a bit weird. The rolling motion below is  not completely from one side or another. Compounded by the noise of the waves and water down below, it was unnerving.  At Scott’s recommendation, I laid diagonally in the bed, to try an offset my movement. I wasn’t rolling all over the place, but  definitely moved. I didn’t get into a deep sleep, it was more of an in-and-out nap-state. It would have to do, because I wanted to allow enough time to wake up and go over some things with Scott, before my watch.

When I came up, Scott was munching on pasta salad, and watching a movie. Since there are no immediate things to watch for, this is completely feasible. He’ll watch for 20 minutes or so, and then pause it, to check horizon, instruments, radar, etc. He showed me what to be aware of on the radar, and we set up our two way radios, so I could wake him up if needed, without going downstairs. He went off to sleep, and I’m with Howard, who is now in a full-on coma.

Ok, so the thought/sight of the water depth and distance from shore that I was concerned about is not affecting me, which is great. So far, the movement is very tolerable. Every few minutes, swell and wave sync up, and we do a pretty good roll from side to side. We have the doors on either side of the pilot house open for ventilation, and there is considerable surf noise; makes sense, considering we’re rolling around and traveling through water!

The water color is gorgeous blue, with maybe a tinge of green. I’m sure our photos won’t do it justice. The color of the surf at our side, and in our wake is pure white, unlike the tea-brown of the Chesapeake. The Dismal Swamp was brown, but that was from tannins in the water. The good old mid–upper bay color is from pure ick. The water is also really, really clear. You don’t notice how clear, until some brown sea grass floats by (again, pretty brown), and it just pops in the clarity of the water.

We, especially Scott, are seeing a ton of flying fish out here. They are almost translucent in color, and their wings flap like some kind of remote control toy. Sometimes whole schools jump off to our side. They can really get some distance.

I have seen two boats pass us on the horizon, so we’re not the only ones out here. So far….ok.

That’s all I was able to “pre record.” Here’s the rest:

My watch was pretty uneventful. I got used to the rolling, which varied from side-to-side, to corner-to corner and back to front; it was never severe or jerky. As I mentioned before, there isn’t anything immediate to watch for. We only had to make two or three course changes, and there was little to no other boat traffic. What there was, never got closer than the horizon.

This made it very easy to leave the pilot house to use the bathroom, make something to eat or drink, etc. I also used the laptop to pour through our refit pictures (which will be added to the blog soon!) Scott slept off and on. He also did several engine room checks, spent time out on the bow and in a chair in the cockpit (one of his favorite spots to view the waves).

Eventually, we deployed the paravanes, with stronger winds predicted overnight. The “bird” in the water is actually 15 feet below the surface!

The birds make a vibrating sound, as they go through the water. It almost immediately drew a big pod of dolphins. Some were huge! They stayed and played of of our bow for at least an hour! Video coming…currently having technical difficulties.

We made our turn off the coast of Cape Fear, at Frying Pan Shoals before dark. There is a shorter route, closer to shore, but it also takes you closer to the shallow water. Swells can get pretty nasty there, so we chose to stay out in the deeper depth, and take a bit more time. We had no problems passing by. Now we were on the second straight course to Charleston inlet.

By 6pm, it was time for Howard’s second dose of “calming” meds. Since the first dose had worked so well, and we still had 18 hours left to go, I wanted to keep on schedule. Getting dose number two wad way more of a challenge. I tried mashing it up in some avocado, and putting it down his throat. This worked great the first time, but now he was wise. Then I tried dissolving it in water, and giving it to him with a dropper. I think a drop or to got into him, the rest went everywhere. I finally went back to the avocado, with more force, and was successful.

His second transition was much worse. I think that with all of my trying, I may have given him more than the required dose. In addition, I think that dose one was still somewhat in his system. He stared off for awhile, eyes slits and mouth a gap. Then he jumped to the floor suddenly (again, nearly cracking his head), and wobbled to the steps. I was betting it was the litter box that he was after, and I was right. The poor thing could barely stand up long enough to do what he had to, before slumping down in the litter. I pulled him out, cleaned him off, and placed him on our bed, making a pillow nest around him. Thankfully, he stayed there and the drugs leveled off.

My watch ended at seven, but I stayed up with Scott until it got dark. I wanted to avoid a panic attack, coming up at midnight to pitch black all around me. “Nautical” dark happens considerably later than on shore. I watched it slowly come on, and went down to sleep  at about 8:30, before pitch black happened….too tired.

At 10:30pm I came back up into the pilot house, wanting to give myself enough time to come awake (after more nap-sleep) before taking my watch. We have dutch doors on either side of the pilot house. Scott had the bottoms secured for the night hours, but the tops were open and our screens were pulled, so you could still hear the waves going by us in the dark. The darkness and sound of the waves outside the doors was pretty creepy to me. Scott was getting pretty tired by 11:30, so I told him to go ahead and sleep; I would start my 12-3 watch early. I asked him to sleep on the bench eat to me, because of the creepy factor.

Eventually, I became used to the night noises. We actually had some light pollution off of the starboard side; port side black. The moving horizon would catch my eye, making me realize that we were in a big roll. I decided to stop looking out. I’d check the radar and the other instruments, and then focus on things inside.

We had our ipod hooked up to the pilot house speakers, so I played a “mix tape” of songs. I kept the volume at sleep level for Scott, and dusted off some stuff I hadn’t heard in awhile (Better Than Ezra and Crowded House – a nod to my Bussing Court roommates!). I also chose to stand versus sit, to keep more awake and alert. Focusing on the music and my dashboard tasks kept my mind off of the dark rolling ocean outside, and I was on watch from 11:30 until about 3:15 with no issues. I woke Scott up, and went down to try and nap.

Scott was on watch until 6 am, and then it was my turn again until noon. Keeping the watches shorter overnight reduces the chance of falling asleep. Case in point, by the time I came back upstairs, Scott was fighting sleep. I came back up at 5:30, wanting to watch the sunrise. By now, I was very ready for light; it took forever (nautical dawn). The winds had increased overnight, so I was now nervous about the state of things outside the windows once it got light.

Today, was my birthday, and in addition to being irritated that the sun was taking so long, I was also complaining that I’d ushered in my birthday on watch in a dark ocean, and would be spending the next several hours still at sea. Scott surprised me with a slice of peanut butter pie, with a candle in it. Yum! That should hold me over.

We’d been hearing thuds outside the boat throughout the night. Scott discovered that flying fish had crashed into us, and to their death. In the am light, we discovered more than a few casualties!

We were now in bigger swells (6-7 feet), so I again asked Scott to sleep on the bench. The idea of him right there was calming. After an hour or so I acclimated, and told him to go down below.

My nap sleeps were catching up with me as well, and I was having trouble fighting sleep as I tried to do some computer work, so I went back to the iPod music plan. Food was also not cutting it; I wasn’t seasick, thank goodness, but just felt off.

At about 9 am, things started to deteriorate outside. Scott was up, so he took over, as we had to start  making our turn to Charleston inlet. We turned bit by bit, to reduce the amount of time that the boat had to be in a beam sea (side to side, everyone’s least favorite). Eventually, Scott told me that we were in for 90 minutes or so of nasty crap. Since he didn’t need me (thank God), I went down below with Howard. If I can’t see the big waves and impending pitching of the boat, it’s better for me.

For the better part of the next two hours, Scott maneuvered through 8 foot swells, with 2-3 foot breaking waves on top of them. Autopilot is useless in situations like this, so he was steering by hand. He said it was like driving over cargo vans. He admits that he was quite nervous about it at first. He’d steered in seas like this on a sailboat, but not in this boat. At one point, he looked over to the pilot house door, and saw a wall of water. He was convinced that it was coming inside, and right for him, but the boat rolled up, and then back down away from the wave.

Luckily, I didn’t notice nearly the pitching and rolling that I’d expected. I was, however, wearing ear plugs. Water that angry is damned noisy on the hull! Howard, who was more alert now, handled it like a champ. In his pillow nest, he didn’t move around, and he did well with the loudness that my ear plugs were muffling.

Sea life handled the sea state like a champ.We chose this boat for it’s hull design and weight, to handle well in big seas, and installed the paravanes to help in these situations. Both decisions proved right, and we were now coming through Charleston inlet, at approximately 11:30am. By 12:30, the motors were off; 30.1 hours after we turned them on in Beaufort.

We maneuvered our way into Charleston harbor, and then Scott slowed to bring in the paravanes. As of now, we are in a slip at Ashely Marina, which is on the west side of downtown. We’ll spend a week here, doing some boat work and projects. I have yet to organize the cabinets in both heads (stuff is just shoved in there), and our guest stateroom looks more like a basement, with all of the stuff that’s been thrown in there “for now.”

I ushered in my birthday on watch in the pitch black ocean, so once we got tied up and cleaned up, Scott took me out for a birthday dinner. He took me to FUEL in Charleston, where he’d eaten when here for a conference. It’s located in an old Esso gas station building. The atmosphere, food and service were all awesome. I highly recommend it: http://www.fuelcharleston.com/

Here are the photos of our ocean leg…before things got too dark and then too bumpy.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Alligator River to ALMOST Oriental, North Carolina

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So remember our trip to Willoughby Bay, just north of Norfolk, where I said that “It’s a hell of a day at sea!”?? Well today, we squashed that. And I mean really squashed it…kinda like this:

We started out from our anchorage on the Alligator River, with the plan to end the day in Oriental, NC. The route takes us from the Alligator River, into the Alligator River-Pungo River Canal, then into the Pungo River. After that, we enter the Pamilco River and then on to the Neuse River, by way of several smaller rivers.

Oriental, NC sits on the Neuse River, and they have a free 48 hour dock for boaters. It’s a small town, with very friendly locals. On our last trip south, a car did a u-turn to pick up Scott and me as we were walking back from West Marine in the rain. Unheard of in Maryland….or just about anywhere else.

Along the way, we decided instead to anchor about 30 minutes from Oriental, and not deal with coming into town to find the free dock full, or worry about having enough water level there (we’ve heard that it’s good for boats with 5 foot and under draft, and we’re 5).

So our day was going fine. The terrain along the way is really cool. A mix of grasses, dead trees and swampy shoreline, with some interesting housing mixed in for extra interest.

As we were entering the Pamlico River, a line of storms caught up with us. Skies got dark, and the rain came on fast, accompanied by thunder, lightening and wind gusts of 38mph. No, this isn’t the “squashed” part.

All in all, though, it wasn’t bad. The winds didn’t kick up the waves much, like you’d think they would. Soon, the storm line passed, and we continued on through the Pamlico River, and eventually into the Neuse River….HERE is where we get squashed.

The wind forecast was for 10-15 knot winds, with gusts to 20, from the southwest. Not an issue for us, as we are heavy, and roll slowly. Quick information, for those who may not know:

The Neuse River is similar to the Chesapeake, in that is an overall shallow body of water. This causes waves to kick up faster and steeper than deeper water. South wind at the base of the bay, near Norfolk, don’t produce big waves (for the most part), as the wind hasn’t had time to travel and build them.

By the time you’re up near Annapolis and Baltimore, however, the wind has traveled a distance, and has built bigger waves. The shallow water also causes the waves to be closer together, or have a shorter wave period. So stronger south winds can be a miserable go in the middle and upper bay. The reverse is true for north wind, which makes things worse by the time it gets to the southern bay.

Ok, lesson over…

So we’re in the Neuse, in the south winds, that shouldn’t be a problem for us, as they are FORECASTED. However, we all know how a forecast can turn on a dime. Instead of winds 15-20, with gusts up to 25…WE, at the flip of a switch, got sustained 25-30 knot winds, which translates into about 28-35 mph winds….sustained, meaning constant. Our gusts were 46 or so mph, and they were often. Another tidbit of note, the power of wind quadruples, when it’s speed doubles…yay for us. You may think that I’m embellishing this..I’m not.

Waves quickly built to 3 and 4 feet, with many 5 footers thrown in. This may not be a big deal to some boaters, and we were in no danger of capsizing or sinking by any means, but it was insanely unnerving. Our bow is eight feet above the water line, and the windows of the pilot house are another five or so feet higher than that. We frequently had waves spraying onto the windows:

Scott installed an awesome paravane system, but we need to be in at least 20-25 feet of water to deploy them. Curses!

A set of big waves would hit, and we’d go UP, and then…DOWN. The down was definitely the more nerve wracking. Scott just kept watching the wind get stronger,  and the waves get bigger. Going up and down so drastically slowed our speed. We went down to 2 knots, and at that speed wouldn’t reach our anchorage before dark. Scott altered course a bit, which allowed us to speed up.

As we inched toward shore, the waves and wind finally started to calm. Howard tolerated all of it like a champ, which shocked us both. I think he was so scared, that he went into a catatonic (no pun intended) sleep.

We eventually made our way into the South River, off of the Neuse, and anchored in a creek. Scott kicked himself for not looking at the NOAA weather fax, but they are usually most useful in ocean waters. Live and learn.

Thankfully, tomorrow should only be a four hour or so trip to Beaufort, NC. Hooray! Here are our photos from today.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Dismal Swamp to the Alligator River

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Yesterday, we left our spot at the North Carolina Visitors Center, and continued down the Dismal, headed for South Mills lock and the end of the canal. We had the “road” to ourselves, as we slide through the duck weed. The canal is covered in most spots with it; gross-looking stuff, that tends to clog the strainers for our motor, toilets, air conditioning.

We had an eleven hour day ahead of us, taking us out of the Dismal Swamp Canal, into the Pasquotank River, across the Albemarle Sound and then into the Alligator River, where we would anchor for the evening.

After about an hour in the Dismal, we “locked through” at South Mills lock. This lock works in reverse. We first wait for the lock keeper to drive to the drawbridge and open it (at 8:40, I’m sure the commuters LOVED us!). Then it’s on to the lock, where we tie up and wait for the water to fill, as opposed to being drained at Great Bridge Lock. When it’s done, we’re 8 feet higher, and ready to head out of the lock and out of the canal. We missed Robert’s smiling face, and his “conched-up” lock keeper house!

Once in the Pasquotank, the water opens up, and views are more expansive. We also lost the brown, tannic water that we had through the Dismal (it was pretty gross when you flushed the toilet!).

The Albemarle Sound can be quite treacherous, depending on wind. We had a terrible go, when we came north on our last cruise. This time, we had favorable winds, and a pleasant crossing (Except for Howard. He retreated to the forward shower for the last hour of the crossing).

In the Alligator River the terrain changes again. It’s a Cypress swamp, so you see lots of dead wood with the green, and stumps poking out of the water. We traveled through the Alligator River Swing Bridge, which literally swings on a central pivot to open. It’s pretty cool!

We traveled another two hours or so after the bridge, and then dropped anchor for the night at about 6:30. Howard got to stretch his legs, and spend some time up on the fly bridge, his favorite place (lots of places to go unseen). Scott and I joined him, to sit in the shade of the aluminum dinghy (Scott calls her the Aluminum Princess). Once the sun started to set, we enjoyed some time on the bow, before having dinner, a shower and then collapsing into bed.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Welcome To Norfolk??

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A long, eventful day! We started out of Olverson’s pleasantly, everyone relaxed and ready for a long day. Not two hours later, before we were even out of the Potomac, things picked up a bit, causing Howard to go into full seasick mode. I managed to get a anti-vomiting pill in him, and he and the water settled down.

We got lucky for a long while, with big current behind us, despite the wind coming at us we moved along pretty well. The big wind and waves held off until about 4pm, as predicted. We were getting a pretty good fetch off of the ocean, as we got closer to Norfolk, which sent Howard back into seasick mode. With an empty stomach, and anit-vomit meds still in him, all he could do was howl and drool.

So while we’re pitching around, he’s trying to find a place to vomit, and I’m trying to chase him with a towel, to catch it, in case he actually did vomit. After spending some time panting on the salon floor (where is was close to 90 degrees), he eventually settled into his litter box.

Now we’re approaching Willoughby Bay, and our anchorage for the night, and we spy a helicopter hovering over the water, with a cable coming down from it. Not that it wasn’t odd enough to see a helicopter towing something by a cable, but this thing was kicking up a massive amount of water and spray around it:

While we’re trying to figure out what the heck is going on with the helicopter, Scott notices that the channel markers were all askew. He then remembered reading that the channel had shifted, and was now marked with floating, relocating markers. This made our chart plotter worthless, and Scott had to do some old school navigating, while keeping an eye to make sure that the helicopter wasn’t going to swing toward us, bringing the wall of water.

Once we navigated through the floating markers, Scott stumbled across a note about the helicopter, on our Ipad navigation system: (prepare for Coast Guard-speak)

“Helicopter Mine Countermeasures Squadron Fourteen (HM-14) routinely conducts airborne mine countermeasures (AMCM) operations utilizing the MH-53E helicopter at low altitudes over the following inland and coastal waterways.(I skipped the listed locations)

During these operations, the aircraft will be operating at altitudes as low as seventy-five feet and will produce localized winds in excess of 125 miles per hour. Rotor wash produced winds pose a considerable hazard to vessels, especially sailing vessels. The devices the helicopters tow range in size and appearance from a large orange and white sled approximately the size of a pick up truck to slightly submerged steel pipes thirty feet in length, both of which have submerged cable extending well beyond the visible portion of the towed device. The Aircraft Commanders have been directed to exercise every effort to conflict and avoid surface vessels.

“All mariners are requested to remain well clear of the helicopters, the towed devices, and the area extending directly behind the aircraft for four hundred yards. Do not approach or cross the area directly behind the towed device as a submerged hazard exists regardless of whether the device is in motion or stationary.”

“These operations involve large naval helicopters at flight altitudes of 100 feet or less, towing surface and sub-surface devices at speeds up to 25 knots. Helicopters may be identified by a rotating amber position light on centerline of main hull flashing 90 times per minute. An area of hurricane-force winds exists within a 250-foot radius around these helicopters, sufficient to blow people and objects from exposed decks and capsize small craft. The towed devices may be completely invisible and include large cables on or just below the surface streaming up to 1200 feet behind the aircraft.”

So now we have navigated the new channel, know what’s up with the helicopter and that it’s not going to turn near us. We now have to navigate to find a place to anchor, through a mine field of crab pots (no crab pots in sight two years ago, when Scott was bringing the boat up from Ft. Lauderdale).

We get anchored, knowing that we’ll have to be careful getting out of the snarl in the am, and I go off to locate Howard. I find him wedged in some stuff that I have stored in our forward head (bathroom). Once I grab him, and he realizes that the motor and motion are done, he begins to purr like crazy and beg for food. Not scarred at all:

So we survived our long day. To quote Overboard, one of my favorite movies: “It’s a hell of a day at sea, sir!” Tomorrow, on to the Great Dismal Swamp Canal…and the Intracoastal Waterway!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

On To Norfolk

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The last few days have been spent making Walmart runs, having a family picnic, grocery store runs, visiting with extended family, and preparing for five or so days of travel to Beaufort, NC.

We left Olverson’s at dawn this am. A BIG thank you again to everyone at Olverson’s for all of their hospitality. They claim to be the friendliest marina on the bay….agreed!

It’ll be a 12-13 hour run for us today, to Willoughby Bay, which is just north of Norfolk; an unexciting, straight-line run. Time could end up shorter, if we catch some current behind us, The south winds are supposed to pick up later, which can make time longer, if waves build, We may stop and anchor earlier, or change our Norfolk anchorage plan. It’ all up to the whims of Captain Scott!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Pot Luck!

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On Saturday, I jumped into my trusty courtesy car and went to visit my parents for lunch. They had a new roof put on, and are now getting the siding done, so I got to meet the crew; it’s looking great.

That afternoon, our neighbors Rich and Sue invited us to a pot luck dinner on the pier. We are at the end of a long, covered pier, that dog-legs about two thirds of the way down. The dog leg is the gathering place for the regulars, and there’s always someone there to greet you as you come through.

I panicked when we were invited, having no idea what to bring (we haven’t fully stocked up on groceries yet). Then I remembered that I had a peanut butter truffle cake, that the AWESOME girls from Sugarbakers gave me, in the freezer. Woohoo, I was set!

Scott and I wandered up to the dog-leg at about 7pm, as the spread was being set out. All the food was terrific, but the pista resistance was the huge platter of freshly caught and fried (on site at the dog-leg) perch. It was awesome! We both had seconds of everything, especially fish, and were glad that everyone enjoyed the cake (thanks girls!).

The B Pier group welcomed us in, and made us feel like regulars. Can’t say enough good things about this Olverson’s place!

On another note. Years ago, Scott found an old Pennzoil Motor Oil jar in one of my parents out buildings. He’s saved it all of this time, and has now cleaned it out (really?), and has filled it with his own spiced rum. Scary thing is, it kinda looks like motor oil!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”