Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming or Good God,What WasThat Noise?

Cappy and Mike enjoying a gourmet (NOT) lunch in the cockpit

The trip from Charleston to Fernandina Beach should have been a relatively uneventful one for us.  The winds were favorable and we were thankful to have our friend Mike on board to help with the sailing and especially for the night watches.  Plus, he's just great company and so much fun.  AND he loves cars just about as much as Elliott does, and Elliott was thrilled to have another carmudgeon on board.

The sail during the day was quite nice; I had pre-pared foods for us to eat along the way, so my duties were mostly below decks serving up the grub and then cleaning up after.  Nothing like a messy galley after dark, so I attempt to keep things shipshape.

The cold weather seems to be following us South (imagine that!), but it was a few degrees warmer for this sail.  At one point, we saw a fluffy blob floating along and we couldn't see a head; it must be a duck or goose that had been decapitated, poor thing.  Leaning over the side of the boat, we felt sad at the sight, but then, all of a sudden, a head and neck appeared from out of the wings and it flew off to find a quieter place to snooze.  Shocked us a bit.  And it was neither duck or goose, but some large sea bird.

"Play with me!"

Later in the day, Gary noticed some dolphins swimming alongside us; we all went to the bow to watch them frolic and tease the bow of the boat with their hijinx for about 20 minutes.  It was a beautiful experience, especially when one of them flipped into the air like an acrobat doing a flip.  Wow; just wow.  Pure muscle and effortless-looking swimming.

Night came on and it got colder, so we all donned foul weather gear and harnesses for the night watches.  Have I told you I hate night sailing?  All was well until Gary was snoozing away and the guys had just started a short break down below when we felt a wind shift and BOOM!!!!!  Crap; what was that?

Gary ran out of the cabin to the cockpit to check and all guys were on deck in a few seconds.  My heart was pounding as I envisioned a big hole in the side of the boat from hitting a whale or something.  It was the boom that made the BOOM!  It had flown over to the other side of the boat with such power that it had brushed against the bimini and knocked a few holding screws out, but the worst part was that the traveler (for bringing the mainsail in) had popped completely off the track, spewing bits of ball bearings everywhere.   (We're stilling finding pieces . . . .)

In a few minutes, the mainsail was brought under control and tied off in a rudimentary way and we were sailing on course again.  Seems our autopilot likes to shut down at the most inopportune times (like when the crew is belowdecks, argh) and had turned us away from the wind and made chaos and broken bits for a few minutes.  Good teamwork brought everything back to sailability and we continued on our way, adrenaline coursing through our bodies, meaning that sleep would be a little harder to come by.

Stanky

We made the turn at the St. Mary's Inlet and headed south into the Amelia River (nice name, eh?)  After radioing the marina letting them know we were on the way, we noticed that, while the scenery on the starboard side of the boat was gorgeous, it was very industrial with factories spewing smoke and making great noise on the port side, where we would be staying.  Yikes.  These were paper mills, so yes, the odor was very sulfur heavy.  And they work around the clock, moving things by train past the marina, blaring the safety horns for all those who might dare walk across the tracks at the wrong time.  And the marina was crowded and we had to, in essence, parallel park the boat on the floating seawall.  "Like a glove!" was my thought as Gary slid us right in (do you remember that scene from "Ace Ventura"?  Yes, it was like that. He's really getting the hang of the bowthruster.)

"Like a Glove"

All this to say that little did I know how much I would come to love this little town on Amelia Island.  

Should I Be Thankful?

You bet!  Even though I'm typing this while wearing gloves because it is so cold.

While the original idea of Thanksgiving sets off my politically correct alarms, I have come to realize over the years that it is not a bad thing to have time set aside to think about that for which one is grateful. 

I won't be with family this year and that breaks my heart, but I know they will be gathering with people and community they love and who warms their hearts and that makes it good.

When I think about it, I am grateful for so many things; obviously, if you are a regular reader of mine, you know I go on and on, and I won't do that today.  Just a brief message.

I am grateful for somehow ending up raising smart, resilient, loving, and independent children, "somehow" not because of their failings, but because of mine.  It feels like a miracle.  They each have taught me so much about dealing with life's issues and have shown me that they individually have beautifully different strengths and talents. I love them and miss them so much.

From them and their life partners, I am grateful for my two precious grandchildren; getting to relive newborn bliss and everyday joy (and stresses) of raising babies is rejuvenating and tiring.  How did I live without them?  I am very proud to be their Oma.

I am thankful for friends who keep me in their hearts even as I journey farther and farther away from them.  The notes and phone calls are so sustaining and appreciated.  I am thankful for new friends in this amazing boating community (and some on land) who have taken us under their wing when we needed special handling following our lightning strike and since then, in every harbor we've been to; people are always reaching out to help each other.

Sickness and illness are clawing at our family borders, but I am thankful to have most of my family still on this plane, and knowing they are getting good care makes it easier to be on this physical journey.  The strength and resolve of those affected have been inspiring and has kept me hopeful.

To my husband and Captain, thanks are unbounding.  For leading us into charted waters safely, even with kinks along the way; for sharing his love of the sea with his slightly reluctant and wimpy wife; for opening new horizons with his family, knowing that any fear we show today will turn into joy and a sense of the holy tomorrow.

I am also thankful to our boat, Nalani, a fine ocean-going vessel which, even while my vision of us is as a bobbing cork, plows through the waves like butter and brings us to safe harbors.

And while not last, because I am attempting to keep this short, I am thankful for sweet tea and Southern hospitality.  Have a sweet and savory day, y'all!

For Mike's Sake

Our friend Mike came down two days ago to help us sail Nalani into our next port of call, Amelia Island, Fernindina Beach to be exact.  Mike has been a friend for a long time and he grew up on boats, loving cars, and it also an artist.  How interesting that with our family, he fits in with all of us:  Gary with the boating, Elliott with the cars, and me with the art.

He's sailed with us before in our home port and also helped rejuvenate our bimini on the new boat.  He's great with a sewing machine!  Mike has a sister on Amelia Island.  We are going to visit her when we get there; she sounds like someone I would like a lot.  She's involved in the music scene there, so that will be fun.  Cool thing about this woman, though, is that she and I went to the same high school at the same time.  She graduated two years ahead of me.  Isn't that crazy?  Small world.

Mike has been a great addition to our little crew, and yes, we did indoctrinate him to the Gospel of Jestine's Kitchen.  He is a believer!  Hallelujah! 

He likes to play with words, so instead of order "decaffeinated" tea, he orders "decapitated" tea.  Yes, he got some looks and laughs and we all giggled. 

We are grateful not only for his time on the boat, which we hope will last until into next week, but he also offered to drive us into town to get more groceries.  We loaded up again with easy stuff to fix while on the run.  As I'm writing this, Gary's got him running all over the boat as they set a whisker pole to get more out of this light air (which I love, but it does increase the hours we need to be underway).

P.S.  Mike jumped ship today to spend some time with his sister before he heads home early next week.  Can you believe that?  Wanting to spend time with his sister instead of us?  Well, I would, too, because I met her today and she's very cool.  I like her a lot.  She's invited us to a community oyster roast tonight, so we're getting ready to nap a few hours and then go out.  See you later!

Dirty Laundry

One of the first things that many sailors do when they come to shore from a short or long passage is laundry (the real first thing is usually a shower).  That was my job the second day in port.  And I don't mind, it's something I've always liked to do.  It's easy and you get warm clothes to fold when it's finished.

Well, the laundry spot is the place to be here at the Marina.  It helps that the showers and heads are situated right there.  This laundry is in a niche but still outside, so I had to dress in layers to get the job done.

Just two loads this time, so it wouldn't be too bad.  I got the washing machines going, and plugged in my computer for some blogging time.  And then the traffic flow started.  Men and women came in to shower and rejuvenate.  What a difference when they emerged from their steamy chambers.

My wash had finished, but one of the dryers had clothes still in it, and just as I readied to empty it on the table, the owner of said clothes came by with his sailing partner.  They were talking to some other folks, but I listened in and joined in the conversation, eventually introducing myself as a house concert promoter to Captain Salty, who is out of the Annapolis area, plays in a steel drum band, and knows a musician I've been trying to book for some time.  He and the other cap were delivering a boat to Charleston for the owner and would be flying home in day or so.

Then a chap named Len arrived and looking a little bleary but still wild-eyed, settled in to do his laundry.  The Cap before me had given me a few minutes left on his dry cycle, which was very kind, so my laundry was not far from done.  Len had hired a salty old guy, Captain Tuccio, to help bring his boat down from New York, I think.  Captain T is almost the spitting image of Ernest Hemingway, with a gravely voice and a real twinkle in his eye.  Hey, maybe he's Santa!  

Anyway, at one point he asked me if I had a pen because he saw, on the wall of notices, the name of a woman who captained a boat nearby his in some exotic port and he'd been wanting to get in touch with her about work.  I didn't have a writing instrument, so I sent him an email with the information.  I hope they can work together again.  As we talked, he gave me good advice on visiting great anchorages in the Exumas. 

I gave Len some detergent to do his laundry and also shared a few minutes of MY leftover dryer time; he seemed very grateful.  That's just what sailors do, though; we look out for each other.  We've been the recipients for months of kind-hearted people on boats to help us with work problems or just keep our wits during the long hours of waiting for work to be done.  I hope to keep paying it forward for as long as I can.

Holy Moly, Charleston

The Captain told me this morning as we were sailing out of Charleston that we had ventured into international waters on our sail down from Beaufort.  Wonder if I can get a passport stamp for that?

Seas are good right now, but winds are going to be getting stronger as the day progresses.  Got my Bonine on early, so I'm feeling pretty good.  Elliott has crashed on the settee and The Cap and Mike are in the cockpit chatting and laughing; gosh, sometimes they giggle like teenage girls.  I love the sound of it.

Charleston is a town I like very much; the houses, the stink of the carriage ride horses, the Battery with its view out to sea and houses that I drool over no matter how many times I see them.  The porches, the gardens, the cars.  And, of course, the FOOD!  Now, we are not connoisseurs of the restaurants of Charleston because we've found one that covers all the bases for us.  Jestine's Kitchen, right on Meeting Street across from the firehouse.

I don't know how I found out about Jestine's, but if it was a recommendation by a friend, I am indebted forever.  I may have told you before but we have planned trips around a visit to Jestine's.  One year, on the way back from the Bahamas, we arrived in Charleston on a Monday and they were closed.  We were only to stay one day, but we stayed over just long enough to grab an early lunch there before hitting the road again for home.

What makes Jestine's so special?  I believe it's the fact that if I'd been closer to my southern grandparents (physically), that these meals would be representative of what would have been served on a Sunday after church, except that my grandparents did not go to church.  Fried chicken, fried pork chops, ham steaks, collards, black-eyed peas, mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, corn bread.  The type of food that makes you sit back on the couch, stretch, and say "Ahhh!" as you nod your head for an afternoon nap in the bit of sun coming in through the living room window.

When we first got in, we expected to chill at the boat for most of the day.  Another boat came into the slip next to us almost hitting our dinghy up on the davits.  Whew!  We got

up a little late and thought of washing Nalani down to remove salt, and do general straightening up.  Thankfully, good friends from North Carolina asked if they could come down in the afternoon to go to Jestine's and walk around town.  Aren't they awesome to save us from the aforementioned jobs?

I have known my friend D since 8th grade; we met and hit it off immediately.  All through high school, we would talk Martian, write notes in backward script, and generally wreak havoc on our Algebra teacher, probably a brilliant person, but we were not impressed at that crazy age.

She and I have kept in touch over the years, through marriages, babies, moves, and though I don't see her much, I love her like a sister.  Granted, we have different ideologies on many things, but we are connected by the heart, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I don't ask her to change her view, not does she mine, and we are symbiotic anyway.  And I love her family, too; we always have a great time together.  When they arrived, she brought peppers from her garden, soup (because it was still so durn cold) and homemade cookies.  We are so lucky.

They really enjoyed Jestine's, as we knew they would.  I love taking friends there to try it the first time.

We walked very different places this time around in Charleston and it was a good thing, just to be able to see new things in a town that you've been to quite a few times.  And I love getting off the tourist track anywhere I go, even though the touristy areas are awesome, just to see real folks working in their yards or meet lovely dogs (like Lucy--whose picture I will post) who just wagged herself up to the fence into the adoring arms of Elliott.  He stayed with her about 10 minutes and was still sad to go.

We didn't do much shopping, some window shopping, but we only put real money down for meals at Jestine's, nuts at the Peanut Store, and definitely, Moon Pies and Goo Goo Clusters and RC Cola, and of course, some traditional Benne wafers, which we love.

I Was Drugged!

A very vivid memory from our mostly sleepless passage was during one of my watches when I hooked onto the jackline while I clambered into the cockpit to do my check.  I was standing on the companionway step as I watched the boat stern swing and sway back and forth and up and down and level out and start the whole series of moves over again.  To port, the sky and sea kept changing places with the stars looking like fireworks, they were so bright and not only did I see Orion's belt, I saw all of Orion.  And instead of my usual abject fear, I could only think how cool it all was, kind of psychedelic.  Groovy, man!

Going out into the ocean is a real challenge for me; I've done a few ocean sails from Miami or Fort Lauderdale to the Bahamas before and those made me so anxious.  I never got sick as I seem to have a stomach of iron, but I was not liking it in the least.  Knowing that we had an ocean run ahead of us, I was feeling anxious again, but we were proactive and all took a tab of Bonine to alleviate any possible seasickness, and little did I know as I did not read the packaging beforehand, there seemed to be an anti-anxiety part to the pill puzzle.

Since cooking underway is nearly impossible for me, I put together a big batch of chicken soup and stowed it in this amazing Thermos pot to finish cooking and keep warm during the whole passage.

I hate nighttime sailing, as I've mentioned a few hundred thousand times, so I was pleasantly surprised to not find my stomach in knots for this whole sail.  It was 30-plus hours of sailing.  We took shifts for lookout, which entailed one of us keeping a stopwatch and every twenty minutes, we would go into the cockpit, do a visual check for sightings of boat lights or large objects coming straight for us.  We were on two-hour intervals, so sleep was not easy to come by; seems your head was just nodding and the beeper went off and you had to get yourself and all those layers of clothing and foul weather gear up to the cockpit to check for lights, make sure we were on the right heading, and, obviously, lookout for large floating objects.

Every time I went up, after I hooked myself to the boat, I would think how amazing the sea is and how amazing our boat is to be able to just keep on going on sail power alone.  It really is awe-inspiring.  But I can share this with you now, I've done that and I'm fine if we never do another ocean passage, but you know that's not going to happen, right?  

Beaufort (BOW-fert not BYOO-fert)

There is a difference, you know.  Next morning, we motored to get back in the ICW for the route south to Beaufort, North Carolina.  We were there before sundown, which I love.  Gary and I had been to Beaufort before, years ago.  We actually saw the sister ship to the boat he and his family had sailed on for their two years abroad in the 70s.

We checked in and got wooden nickels for free beer or, in my case, sweet tea, and a 10-percent discount card for the dock restaurant, so that's where we decided to go.  We sat on the top deck, looking out over the marina and had just ordered our food when in walk Steve and Marianne, whom we had seen in Belhaven and on the ICW.  I asked them to join us and we had a very nice meal together.  A great couple and I found I had a very special trait in common with Marianne--we both love to eat and are eating our way South, much to our joint enjoyment.  A good time.

The next day, we walked around town a bit and at a bookstore in which we picked up a few things, I noticed a concert poster for David Russell, a great musician whom I had hosted before.  I made sure to tell the owner that the concert would be well worth going to; I wished we were staying long enough, but we were leaving the day before he came to town.

The nice thing about the marina we were at is that, besides having gorgeous boats coming in and out all the time, they provide loaner cars to boaters to drive a bit inland to reprovision their stores.  Elliott and I did that the next day; we got the key from the dock master, who told me to "Drive it like you stole it!," so we thought we may be getting a hotrod.  We came around a corner and found a boat of a car waiting for us.  A Buick Roadmaster Estate Wagon!  This thing is HUGE!!!  And very old.  We found a cassette tape of Fleetwood Mac in the player, and in the glove box, we found Neil Diamond, Whitney Houston, and some mixed tapes.  None of them worked, unfortunately, or we would have been wailing along with the music. 

We drove out to the local Piggly Wiggly, filled up our cart, and, on the way back to town, I did drive it like I stole it, giving the V8 a nice workout, just for fun. 

That afternoon, Elliott and I visited a few museums on foot and stopped for lunch at the Stillwater, which was recommended by a friend.  Thanks, Dave!!!  We sat under cover since the weather had been a little spitty, but we enjoyed a great meal there; he got the fish tacos and black beans and rice and I had a tasty salad with goat cheese, roasted beets, and a fig viniagrette.  Delicious.  Topped off with a Pusser's Painkiller, it was a sweet meal.

Afterwards, me only one sheet to the wind, and Elliott, who was tired of walking, parted ways, as I walked around the more residential areas of town and then back to the marina.

Elliott connected with a young family on a social media page (Paisley's Pirates, who are spending four years on the water) and when we went for dinner that evening, we found the lot of them in the bar downstairs at the dock restaurant.  Very sweet couple who are brand new to sailing, but they started out in Wisconsin and sailed through the Great Lakes and down the ICW to Beaufort so far.  They're learning on the run and they seem to be doing well.  They have three young children and we hope to be meeting up with them again further South.

Beaufort was a great stop and I wish we could have stayed longer.  The next morning, we didn't leave until later (again) because of the tides we expected to encounter when entering Charleston, so we had the aforementioned young man and his sweet daughter on board for a quick visit.  Then we checked out, said goodbye to our other neighbor boat, Victorious, and headed outside into the ocean.  Bloody hell!  Glad I was drugged!

Pea Soup

We left the Belhaven anchorage later than everyone else because we didn't have as far to go on this day.  And we were thankful for it because the fog rolled in heavy and early.  Eerily beautiful, yet scary, too; we couldn't see too far ahead of us and were glad of the radar and AIS systems, though we still kept a strong watch.  An errant goldfinch flew into the cabin at one point, skimming Gary's head, which surprised him.  I heard him yell and came up to find this cute bird just sitting happily inside the cockpit, turning his head in an attempt to get his bearings.  He flew out on the staysail rail then, and came back around a few times.  The fog may have thrown him off course, but after a while, he took to the air again, hopefully to rejoin his flock.

At another point, during the day, I hear another yelp from the cockpit to find that Gary had been surprised by a dolphin breaching right at the port side of the boat.  I think he wouldn't have been so surprised, except for the fact that with the low-hanging fog, sounds are exaggerated and the water splash was loud.  It was our first dolphin sighting, so that was cool.  I always think they're good luck, so am happy to report that we did not hit anything that day.  

At some point, because time seems to stand still on the water, it seemed the sky was clearing, but then the fog got dense again.  It was quite cold, so we were bundled up in as many layers as possible. 

Coming out of the fog for the evening, we motored into Adams Creek to anchor.  We were met with bright skies and a beautiful rainbow, actually several of them!  One was the typical arch, another was in a cloud mass and another rainbow square appeared on the other side of the creek.  It was such a great way to end the day of sailing.  After settling in, Elliott and I sat in the cockpit warmed by the setting sun and watching a pelican fly, dive, and splash to get his evening meal.  Perfection.

A Gastronomic Mecca, Belhaven Is

Belhaven turned out to be a surprise for me; got a lot of info that it was a very nice place to stop on the way down the ICW.  But when we got there, it really didn't look like much at all.  We anchored out and dinghied into shore.  What we found was a town that had fallen on hard times, except for the industry gained from cruisers and fishing boats.  It definitely had a subtle charm, though, and we didn't give up all hope.  Thankfully, that hope was answered in the culinary choices available in town. 

Our first night there, we stopped into The Tavern at Jack's Neck for a nibble or two.  As we walked in, a couple at a table near the door said, "Hey, aren't you the sailboaters we saw earlier today?"  Steve and Marianne had been in a power boat that very nicely radioed us and asked to pass us in one of the narrower portions of the canal we'd been traversing that day.  We waved big and were sure they must have seen our crazy getup for getting under that Wilkerson bridge.  We chatted with them a while and then retired to our own table for some pizza and salad.  The pizza was over garlicky, but the sweet tea was delicious and my salad was just what I needed. 

The next day, we decided to try out the Spoon River Artworks and Market, which, we've come to learn is not really an art gallery nor a market.  They do have a side shop where they sometimes sell wine, but to me, a market brings the hope of edibles, not just drinkables, especially when you don't have a car and may need to walk a few miles to get to a grocery store.

I walked into the wide-open, high-ceilinged space and just said, "Wow."  White and off-white was the main decorative theme in a shabby chic sort of way.  It felt immediately like my kind of place.  Shelves of white soup tureens and other serving dishes lined some of the walls, white curtains hung, white Japanese-style lanterns hung from the ceiling swaying gently when the door was opened; even the electrical cords were wrapped in white material.  It all lent to a very calming space.

The food was out of this world; I would go there again in a heartbeat and we would have, too, if we didn't have to leave the next morning on our way down the coast.  Last-minute chores like getting our propane tank filled, and getting things stowed on board were all that kept us from heading out.  

Getting the propane tank filled required a hike, on land, to a service station; the guys took care of that while I waited at the dock guarding the dinghy from the hordes of people lingering about -- not!  The free dock was very unused, but I think it's because of the fact that at the end of the dock is a large grass field with railroad tracks running through it.  It looked quite desolate.  The other marina options emptied out directly into the "town," as it were.  I am hopeful for Belhaven; hopeful that the high-quality restaurants and decent marinas will help to bring it back up to something similar to its glory days.  

A Bump and an Ouchie

So, while we surmounted to what, for us, was a huge challenge in taking on and being victorious over the Wilkerson Bridge, things can still go wrong.  And sometimes, it is an accumulation of the little things that can make a person weary and tired and scared.

The ICW is a 3,000-mile inland waterway which lays along the Atlantic and Gulf Coasts of the U.S with the official start in Norfolk, but unofficial beginnings are in New England.  It was created to help with both commercial and personal water transportation.  Some of it stretches across natural bodies of water and some of it has been dug new as canals.

The natural bodies of water had to be dredged for boats to navigate safely, thus the nickname given to the system is apt:  The Ditch.

Now, the problem with the Ditch is that you have a narrow margin of error.  In the middle of the dig, you might be at a comfortable 17 feet depth, but if you veer too much to the right or left, your depth drops sharply; imagine a cliff underwater.

We found that out a few days ago in the mouth of the Alligator River (by the way, I did not see any alligators there).   A hard and fast rule of navigating the ICW is to NOT totally depend on the autopilot/chartplotter.  People become mesmerized by the magenta line and forget to watch their depth. 

Gary added the skull and crossbones

The route we were on had originally gone one way and because of shoaling, the red mark that we had to keep to starboard had been moved.  Gary turned off the autopilot and manually steered us on the new course, but our depth dropped dramatically and he quickly reversed us, but we did bump first.  He thinks there was a ridge because right afterwards we were in good depth again.  So now he says we are ICW veterans as we had our first touch.

The scenery and wildlife (birds, mostly) were stunning; we passed an eagle perched atop a dead tree at the edge of the canal, we saw hundreds and hundreds of migrating birds gathering in tree tops at dusk, and the different waterside areas were just gorgeous and so still sometimes.  It made you feel such a small part of things, yet except for the modern boats scooting around, it looks like a primeval forest. 

We passed sparsely to non-inhabited areas; we passed what seemed like the Route 1 of the canal when we came to Coinjock, which I hear from my son is most famous for two things--supposedly, in the summer, scantily clad women hold up signs trying to entice you to their particular dock (sirens of the canal), and there's a restaurant there that claims to have the "world's best" prime rib.  Elliott told me that a fellow sailor who dinghied over to chat at the Alligator River anchorage had just heard from his brother who called him as he was waiting in line for said steak.

We passed quite a few hunting punts covered with camo and filled with aspiring and seasoned hunters.  Duck blinds popped up with hunters at the ready for flocks drawn in by duck musk and decoys.

I wish we could do the Georgia portion of the ICW, but shoaling is a very big problem there and we don't need that stress and possible damage to the boat.  I would like to go there sometime on a smaller boat, especially in the summertime, so see what I hear is a sumptuous amount of wildlife, in the air, land, and water.

Alligator River Anchorage

Before we got to the Alligator River, I had snuck into Elliott's forward bunk to read and ended up napping a bit.  The engine is close to our aft cabin and, while I can still hear and feel the engine forward, it does decrease the noise and vibration to be at the bow.  At one point, Elliott opened the door, said sorry, and then left. 

I came out after we had anchored and after a while, Elliott finally, goaded by his dad, told me he had fallen down the companionway while trying to exit like a typical 15-year-old might; over the hatch.  I can't believe I didn't hear him tumbling down.

I noticed something was off when he asked me to look at some photos we had taken during the day and at one point, I looked over at him and his mouth just didn't look right.  I could see blood at the corner of his mouth.

Seems on the way down or when he landed, he had bitten his lip.  But also, underneath the bottom lip, he had an inch-long open gash.  My first thought was that he would have to have stitches, but we were in the middle of nowhere with no cell connection.  And we had no ice to help with swelling.  With an application of antiseptic ointment, he went to bed early. 

The next day, the wound didn't look as ghastly and so I added only a bit of Manuka honey to help heal it up.  It's a messy proposition with the drippy stuff, but I think the wound looks pretty good right now.  Elliott calls my remedies "hippie stuff."  Luckily, our next stop would be an area that had a hospital right at the shore in case we needed it.  He still has a bit of swelling, but no warmth at the spot and no extra bleeding, but we've tried not to be too funny so that he doesn't split it back open with a big hoo-haa laugh.  He just looks smirky and swears that there is no pain.  I am watching him closely, which he hates, but that won't stop me from schmearing him with honey when he needs it.

So, we had our first bump and our first injury and we will carry on.  I am looking forward to more sun and some saltwater, not only to help heal Elliott's injury, but to also calm and relax us all.

The ICW -- The Bridge that Took a Foot Away

Gary up the mast, trusting us with the lines holding him there.

In preparation for the trip down the ICW and this one dreaded bridge we had to try to get under that was only 64 feet for our 65 foot mast, the next morning Elliott and I hoisted Gary up the mast to do some proactive work.  He removed the masthead light and the wind anemometer and left the VHF antenna since that was fairly flexible just in case it touched as we were passing under.  Most of the boats left that morning, leaving only an old boat very reminiscent of the ones you'd find deserted in the Florida Keys and a smaller boat called Fuzzy Duck.

We had a timed window to make certain bridges and the lock, so we left later than everyone else.   Other sailors deferred to us and let us go ahead, either so that we could keep our speed or that they just wanted to see if we would fit under the bridges. The lock was an interesting experience and kind of underwhelming compared to the one I was used to in France, but a new friend said that underwhelming was good sometimes. 

I've decided to call Elliott our cruise director because he'd arranged for us to say hello to a friend he had made on a forum called Kids for Sail; he's arranging other visits as we make our way south.  We saw this new friend just as we passed the lock; she was on land as she and her family are getting their new boat ready to sail.  We wave and said hello.  It's very cool because we are slowly becoming part of a new community and it feels good.

We went through every kind of bridge you could think of: swing, bascule, lift, and fixed.  Some you have to radio ahead to get the bridge tenders to open for you, some have openings on the hour or half hour, and the fixed, well , they're a whole different story.  We scraped the bottoms of quite a few of them with our VHF; Gary had rigged a coat-hanger to protrude forward of the mast so that if we did hit, that would hit first and he could quickly put the boat in reverse to avoid damaging the mast.

The beauty of the ICW or "the ditch" as it is called, is unreal and a manmade water trail through so much natural beauty; marshes, lowlands, wide open expanses of water, tight canals.  A gorgeous trip that had me at the rails oohing and aahing as we motored along.  We hit once, which Gary backed off quickly, so that makes us seasoned veterans, I guess.

I was so stressed, though, with every bridge we passed, knowing that we were getting closer to the scary bridge that had caused so many people trouble over the years.  My neck and shoulders were knotted up with worry.    

Pungo Ferry Bridge Anchorage

After we made the Pungo Ferry Bridge, we anchored just the other side of it and Gary's brain started plotting a way to defeat the Wilkerson Bridge the day after next, the infamous bridge with a height of 64 feet when we needed 65 feet; just twelve more inches, please?  Unfortunately, this bridge was not affected by the tides, only wind if it is blowing in the right direction can help (maybe).  I just wanted to get over getting under this bridge so that I could breathe and relax again.

The challenge felt overwhelming, but Gary went to sleep with his engineering brain coming up with ideas using the cosine function of trigonometry (see, someone DOES use it in real life!) to figure out a way to get the boat to heel just enough to get us under that hell bridge.  He figured we needed a 7-degree heel to drop it 6 inches but wanted a 10-degree heel to drop it 12.

Okay, my eyes glazed over, but we went to work the next morning after a night on the Alligator River (which is a glorious spot that is very mystical and serene).  Everything with any weight from the starboard side of the boat had to be moved to the port side.

That included canned goods, bags of rice or other grains, pots and pans, dishes, my thermos cooker, home-canned goods, tools, toiletries, anything that could make us list further.  While I did that, Gary and Elliott worked on Gary's scheme.  We got quite a few comments by other boaters as they passed by.

They brought the dinghy around and hoisted it up on the port side of the boat; Gary's plan was to fill it with water as we neared the bridge.  He also put in an old prop that he found in the anchor locker.  He hoisted the spare anchor, pulled in the regular anchor chain to midships to add weight, and then he announced that Elliott and I would also become the ballast to help bring her over even more.  What?

Elliott was commanded to be the one hiking out from the dinghy, which, as you recall, was strapped high to the side of the boat.  My job would be to be hoisted via bosun's chair to the boom, which would then be moved out over the port side to pull us over even more.  You know, there's a good time to be hefty and this one was it!

As we neared the bridge, we all got ready; I was strapped into the bosun's chair and tied to the boom; Elliott was already out on the dinghy, which had been mostly filled with canal water. Gary swung me out near him and I actually thought it was pretty cool, but then remembered that we had work to do, so I did my best dead weight.  It really didn't look good because even with my weight out there, we were only up to 9!!!!  Yikes, we needed 10!!!!

We approached the bridge very slowly; inching up, motoring through the coffee-colored water, holding our breaths (after I said a prayer to Neptune and the Black Madonna of Sailing Ships and any other gods and goddesses within hearing).   The forward coat-hanger thingy never touched, but the antenna screeched along again during what seemed the longest 10 seconds of travel EVER!  BUT WE MADE IT!!! 

I let out a hoot that could have been heard in three counties; we were all so relieved.  Gary got on channel 16 and announced, "To those of you who had been placing bets, Nalani made it through the Wilkerson Bridge!"   I swear the stress fell off my shoulders like a coat shrugged off in warm weather.  What a thrill to have made a success of it; I was so proud of Gary for thinking of a way to do it and for Elliott being willing to go out on a limb with me.  We all grew today as a family and as crew.

Norfolk Story

Norfolk is a very interesting town; I used to live not far from here in the early 60s.  We arrived after motoring the whole way from Deltaville; we had wind, but it was coming directly from where we were headed, so no sails were set this day.  Again, we saw that pretty brown-sailed boat making her way along a similar path.  Lighthouses, Navy planes, pelicans, freighters, and as we closed in on Norfolk, more and more barges and freighters.  We motored over the Hampton Roads tunnel; I've driven through it before, but never went over it by water.  It's cool to see the road just disappear underwater and reappear across the way.

With a strong Navy presence, we were awed by the variety, size, and sheer number of boats lining the sides of the Elizabeth River as we made our way to the Waterside Marina where we would spend the night. 

For quite a ways, it was just fleet after fleet of military boats and submarines, finally switching to container ships and coal operations.  Just so much to look at and, from an engineering point of view, fascinatingly complicated.

Finally, we saw taller buildings and the markings of a bustling downtown, including neon, which was just fine with us.  We pulled into our berth and settled in for the evening.  Boat time was starting to take effect in our daily lives.  I have been used to being a night owl, but on the boat, we tend to turn in earlier and earlier and rise earlier and earlier.   I know some of my friends will have a hard time with that last bit of information.  Even motoring, a lot of work goes into it, from navigating ("Where's the next ding-dang green mark?")  to avoiding crab traps (makes me crazy!) and other boats, of course.

Rachel and Elliott

Next morning, Elliott met up with a former high school friend who is going to college in the Norfolk area, so he was gone until early afternoon.  Gary and I walked over to the Chrysler Art Museum for a few hours; we loved the exhibit on the leather jacket appropriately named "Worn to be Wild," the pop art, and were quite disturbed by a photography exhibit called Tulsa by photographer Larry Clark about the heyday of drug use in his hometown in the 70s.  Left me shaken.

The glass studio had an exhibit at noon and that was fun to watch as the young glassblowers turned out a drinking cup made to look like a top hat.  Wonderful art.

After we met up with Elliott again, we decided to check out the main drag for late lunch options; found Hell's Kitchen and a love relationship was born.  Highly recommend if you're ever in town and I sure hope you get Fuzzy Wuzzy as your server.  Vegan stuffed peppers!!!!  (We went back the next day, too!)

We met Andrea, one-half of the crew of Imagine at the dock; very amiable person. We noticed that the brown-sailed boat had come into the marina, too; cool, I wanted to meet them since we'd seen them so much.  So when I saw the guy out on his deck, I hurried Gary along to go say hello.  I could hear them laughing from across the way, so I scurried over, too, to say hello.  Les, on the beautiful Elizabeth, is soloing all the way down to Florida.  Very nice guy with a great sense of humor; I told him I had taken some photos of his boat underway and offered to send them to him via email.

After staying in the marina one night, we decided to gas up across the river and then anchor nearer to Portsmouth where we joined an already decent-sized group of sailboats.  We went into Portsmouth to get groceries, but the food store we found really only had snacks, so we hit a very hot Dollar General to get bread and milk (and some snacks).  Gary got his haircut at a barber shop by a guy named Punkin, who did a really fantastic job, especially since the shop is geared more toward a different type of hair.

   

In the afternoon, we visited the Norfolk Southern museum and revisited Hell's Kitchen for yet another great meal.  Black bean burger for me this time; awesome.  And we had Fuzzy Wuzzy again; how lucky were we?

That evening, I turned in early, but woke shortly after to howling winds and the sound of Gary sounding the signal horn!  I didn't know what was going on, but bounded out of bed and dressed quickly just in case I was needed.  Out of nowhere, a squall had surprised us with such speed and power; the signal was sent because the guys noticed one of our fellow sailboaters' anchor had dragged free and the boat was slipping  dangerously close to the commercial shipping lane. 

While we were bouncing around (me scared out of my wits), Gary realized that we, too, were dragging anchor and that things could get very dangerous very quickly.   Ended up that  almost every boat in the anchorage needed to take evasive action that night.  Besides the shipping lanes, we could either hit or be hit by any number of other boats in our nearby vicinity.  Elliott worked on the bow making sure the anchor was being set properly while I saw in the cockpit, white-knuckled and never taking my eye of Elliott. 

It was a harrowing experience; thankfully, Gary and the other captains got their boats back into safe places, well, except the initial one Gary had warned.  I am thinking no one was on it at the time; they kept moving further and further away and it looked like they were right smack dab in the middle of the shipping lane; very scary.  Eventually, though, we saw them coming back to our area; I think they'd been downtown and had to dinghy back over to reboard their boat and bring it under control.   

The winds eventually died down and it was like it never happened, except for the adrenaline rushing through our veins.

Sleep that night did not come easy. 

Tossed About

This is my son, Elliott's, take on what happened to us last night as we were anchored in the Elizabeth River; it was pretty intense.  I'll write more later as there is no time now because we're pointing the bow southward.  Wish us luck with the bridges!!!

*****************************************************

Just had a surreal boating experience. 

Knew winds were picking up but thought nothing of it. Dad goes up to check and we spot a sailboat dragging anchor horribly, basically just floating along. Brought our air horn out and signaled him, nothing. Kept floating along. Then we noticed two others dragging, and another. The winds were insane, averaging around 35 knots but gusts up to 45. In case this is not English to you. That's hell. 

Eventually we dragged a little bit as well and instead of waiting to see what happened, the fam sent me up to the bow in full gear. We pulled up the anchor and then moved closer to shore and reset our anchor. Most everyone was already up but until a few minutes ago one drifted about a half a mile away, in the middle of the commercial channel. The anchor did snag on something.

Everyone is safe now with all their anchors reset. Thank goodness. ADRENALINE RUSH!

-- Elliott Golden, on board s/v Nalani

Day One: On the Boat Again, Just Can't Wait to Get on the Boat Again!

Our first day of our real trip south started off with a bang!  Did you expect anything else from us?  Oy!  We don't know if it was the current, a quick spot of wind, or user error (or all three), but as we were leaving our dock, the boat's bow veered away too quickly and pushed the stern back into the docks, smashing the dinghy into a piling.  

Oh no, oh no, oh no!  This could not be happening!  Too much pressure caused the davit lines holding the dinghy to snap causing the dinghy to fall to the water.  Thankfully, no damage to the dinghy, but a ding caused by the falling motor appeared on our transom.

Yes, more epithets from the Captain and a few tears from the crew.  Were we going to be held up yet again? 

"NO," the Captain said firmly, as he situated the dinghy to be dragged behind us.  So we carried on, as we have done over and over, waving goodbye to Cobb Island, and most importantly, to those who came to see us off, Fred and Bob.  Fred was taking pictures and I laughingly yelled, "You can edit out THAT part of it!" 

Shaken up, we motored on, set sail, and had a glorious sailing day with sun and great temperatures.  

Later, Gary said that the lines snapping ended up being a good thing because he had been wanting to replace those lines anyway.  Ever optimistic he is.  So, while we were toodling along, he pulled the dinghy up close to the stern, let down the transom swim platform, and made his way to the dinghy, tools secured in a dry bag.  It took him around 30 minutes of bouncing around, but he successfully replaced the old lines (what was left of them) with a line that is ultra-high density polyurethane, supposedly stronger than steel. 

We saw several other sailboats heading in our same direction that day; one got our attention because she had beautiful brown sails.  She was named Elizabeth.  Just a pretty boat. We also saw interesting flying things, including a Navy plane with a smaller plane (drone?) flying under it.  Cool to watch.

Sorry about the wonky horizon; just the way it is on the boat

Deltaville was our intended stopping point for the day and we made it in after  a gorgeous sunset, but still after dark, which always makes me nervous, but it worked out just fine.  We had a dinner of a cold rice salad I had made earlier in the day of odds and ends from cupboard and fridge; delicous and hearty.   

The next morning, while I enjoyed avocado toast and some reading in the cockpit, the guys took the dinghy over to land and from there, walked a mile to and from a West Marine store because our bilge pump float switch had given up the ghost.  They also bought a jerry can and filled it with diesel fuel for backup, just in case, and to make me happy, which is also good.