Monthly Archives: May 2014

Thursday, 29 May

“Occasional rain and drizzle,” read the forecast.  The rapping on the deck overhead indicates this is one of those occasions which, in turn, confirms the decision to stay in Oxford and seek shelter for the night at Bachelor’s Point Marina.  More of a working yard than a “destination” marina, but the staff couldn’t be more helpful, the facilities are neat and clean, and the location near the mouth of the Tred Avon will make for a quick getaway tomorrow.

That’s probably best out of concern for the self-esteem of dear little Steadfast. Although she was in (near) Bristol condition and standing tall when she left her home slip, she is dwarfed by the boats–ahem, make that “yachts”–tied up all around her.  A handsome Fleming 65 (I think) motor yacht spent most of the day here before heading off.  In the rain.

The 65′ “First Light” motors past the bowsprit of the 100′ schooner “Summer Wind” at rest at Bachelor’s Point, Oxford.

(Pssst! Does he know he’s left a fender hanging off the stern quarter.  Glad to see that happens with the best of yachts!)  And then there’s Summer Wind, too big to get a good photo but there’s more about her at http://www.charterworld.com/news/relaunch-100foot-alden-sailing-yacht-summerwind-gmt-carbon-spars

We’re plugged into shore power–the solar panel’s not producing a lot of juice today, for some reason; go figga!–to keep the lights on, the ice box cold and the laptops fully charged.  With the temperature yet to hit 60 today, the cold plate in the ice box hasn’t had much to do.  It’ll earn it’s keep in a few weeks, though.

Meantime, we start to feel like hibernating aquatic mammals, plan our departure and plot our course to cross the Bay to the Annapolis area in the morning.  There’s a big regatta scheduled there this weekend so we may not be able to get a slip on “Ego Alley” but we’ll give it a shot.

Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 28 May

There are banshees about tonight.  Many.  Their screams pierce the dark as they fly through the rigging, the trees, anything that stands above sea level.  One after another they rant, minute after minute, ’til inexplicably they fall silent.  But just for a moment, then they’re back at it.  Banshees.

Or it could just be the wind, kicked up by what NOAA tells us is a “back door cold front.”  Gusts are up to 27 knots.  They feel like more.  Whatever, it’s blowin’ here in Oxford, dead out of the east and Steadfast is less than still.

Yesterday’s sail up to Cambridge turned out to be a fun trip.  More than the fact of moving smartly under sail was the experience of sailing the Choptank beyond the mouth of the Tred Avon River.  The Chop narrows considerably as she turns eastward past Castle Haven but the channel remains deep and wide enough as to be easy to pilot.  Deep enough, in fact, that shallow draft craft like Steadfast may slip outside the zig-zag channel in several places to head more directly to her destination.  And each way one turns, the reward is a scenic Eastern Shore view.

After a good soaking last night, then brief shower this morning, there appeared to be a dry if hazy window at midday when Steadfast could safely slip out of Cambridge and move north–a little, at least, about 10 NM–to re-visit the quaint town of Oxford.  There’s not much to Oxford, size-wise, but what’s here is focused almost exclusively on boats, boaters and boating.  Nice.

There was time for a bicycle ride around town with stops at Hinckley’s Ship’s Store, Oxford Yacht Yard, Tred Avon Yacht Club, Oxford Market and for an early waterfront dinner on the pier at The Masthead.  (Sorry.  No photos.  The phone was left inadvertently on board.)

Anyway, there may be another chance tomorrow, given NOAA’s posting of a small craft advisory along with predictions of rain all day.  Then again, a brief window is all that’s needed to move on a bit farther.

Be well!  Steadfast out.

Tuesday, 27 May

Yes, it’s true: Steadfast in fact does sail on occasion and when she does, she’s a happy gal!

The forecast didn’t call for much in the way of wind so not much was expected.  After what felt like an up-hill climb–Solomons, motoring across the Bay to the mouth of the Choptank River at not much more than 4 knots but lots of flies–Steadfast turned to a heading of 090 and, whaddaya know – there’s WIND!  Blessed wind!  Woo-Hoo!!

So, all of her Ullman sail set, topping 6 knots at times, she reaches all the way up the Chop to the entrance channel for Cambridge, MD.  Neither the chart nor the cruising guide gives much indication how to enter the recently-built municipal yacht basin but the channel is easy to spot and carries depths of no less than 10-feet all the way in.  The basin is headquarters for Cambridge Yacht Club where a phone call ahead confirmed that reciprocal privileges would be extended to members of Mathews Yacht Club.  Handy.

While everyone at CYC was gracious and friendly, it’s doubtful a better welcoming committee could’ve been planned, the classic skipjack Nathan of Dorchester out to greet us, likewise under full sail.

A classic Chesapeake Bay skipjack heeled to the wind, under full sail, is a lovely sight, indeed!

Once in the roomy basin, Steadfast tied off as assigned and the crew disembarked for a stroll into town.  Streets are lined with impressive century-old homes of granite or brick, Victorians bedecked in gingerbread, surrounded by lovely gardens.  Downtown, of course, like any in the US, is not fully recovered from the setbacks of recent years.  But the effort clearly is being made.  Evidence, for instance, is in the small pedestrian mall along which a long mural-mosaic depicts significant elements of local history.

That looks like it hurts! Confused for an oyster, Kate gets squeezed by a Cambridge waterman who recognizes a “pearl” when he sees one.

So surprise!  Terrific three-hour sail.  Interesting downtown.  What a great day.  Not sure what the weather holds for tomorrow.  Maybe another surprise.

Steadfast out.

I promised friends I would screw up the courage and “speak up” from time to time. For social voyeurs, it will be obvious when reading, who’s the writer and who’s the accountant in our family.

As Bill has covered, the last several months have been a whirlwind for us. Now we are receiving the fruits of our labors. Our first days out have been lovely, shared with good friends and in familiar waters. A comforting way for me to begin getting my boat-balance—sea legs and emotional rhythm—since I have not been sailing this season until departure.

I would like to share five things I have learned since starting our trip:

1. I can get along without a watch on my wrist.
2. A 27’ boat is really just an odd shaped filing cabinet. Sectioned by “drawers”, “hanging files” and “folders”, we’ve made good use of all the space and, so far, been able to lay our hands on anything we are looking for (expect the bag of soy crumbles that seems to have disappeared in the fridge).
3. Trying to follow the Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book can drive a novice insane.
4. There are numerous ways to get a good workout onboard…even aerobically. The TRX helps.
5. Saying “I love you” to friends feels really good.

With that I’ll say thank you to those who inspired and encouraged us and for all the many gifts we received before departure. Towels are hung, journals in use, knives slicing away and most of the wine now a lovely memory. I miss being with all of you we’ve left behind and I Love You!

Memorial Day, 26 May

Meander of Marblehead lay at anchor, her 47-feet of flag blue, a small round bright red ball floating to windward fifty-feet off her bow. Smart. The clever cruiser ties such a float to the anchor on a light line, marking the anchor for retrieval in the morning and, perhaps more important, letting the next crew into the anchorage know “Here’s my anchor. Stay away.”

The gentleman aboard steps aft to the swim platform, give the lady a nudge to set her swinging—she’s perched in a hammock suspended from the dinghy davits—then coaxes a mature Yellow Lab into the inflatable.

Ah, of course, it’s going on 1800 (six p-m, to you lubbers) and high time to give the pooch some exercise, eh? Or not.

At anchor in Solomons, MD, the crew of Meander prepares to check the catch of the day.

They motor toward the shore, sure enough, but–instead of going on to the beach–stop at the red float. He tugs on the line. The Lab leans over the gunnel and together they inspect the contents of a crab pot was planted in Mill Creek, one assumes, some hours ago. Go figga.

After another interesting, unplanned day, Steadfast lays close by in this creek just east of “downtown” Solomons, Maryland. ‘Cause we all know, plans change. As does the wind.

It was thought she’d head back across the Bay this day, to anchor in some creek off the Choptank River. Instead, there was the little issue with the 12-volt sockets, the ones used to charge iPads, iPhones, laptops, various batteries, etc. When a suspect phone charger was plugged in yesterday, it tripped breaker that killed those sockets plus the marine VHF radio AND the stereo. No tunes!

Quintan to the rescue!

Well, not physically, of course. But via the phone, George talked your electrically-challenged correspondent through the diagnosis process, confirmed some suspicions and, most important, provided moral support. The one remaining such socket in the ship’s store at Zahniser’s was procured, installed, tested and s’all good! Another thirty-minute boat project squeezed into a mere three hours.

At which point, roughly noon on a stunningly gorgeous day, it was determined to get underway and test the winds on the Patuxent. Oxford beckoned.

But the day’s wind being what it was—so’west at 8 or so—Oxford must wait ‘til another day. Instead, having motored to Cove Point, the tidy little ship turned windward, raised all sail and had a rousing three-hour romp back up the Patuxent to share this spot on Mill Creek with Meander and a couple of other sailcraft.

It’s been a good visit to Solomon’s—after motoring 45 NM or so north from Reedville yesterday—hanging with Butch and Eric and our new best friends on “K” dock. A most helpful and congenial group and it is hoped we’ll see them again on the return trip in the fall.

Meantime, we may see Meander and crew in Marblehead. Who knows?

Steadfast out.

Saturday, 24 May

Yep.  Thanks to Dane at Boat US, we’ve moved into the ranks of “cruising” for real.  Which may seem a bit at odds with the fact that Steadfast did not move today, other than to swing at anchor. But there’s more to the story, as you might suspect.

So how did the day—the first of the holiday weekend—transpire for Steadfast and her crew?, you might ask. Slowly. Quietly. Productively.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs, (vegan) sausage and raisin bread toast, there was some study and discussion of the contents of the 2014 edition of Eldridge Tide and Pilot Book regarding times of current change on the Chesapeake & Delaware Canal and Delaware Bay. It’s fairly easy to figure. Just add two hours, fifty minutes to the time for a given date when the current changes to ebb at Delaware breakwater, subtract an hour-45 to transit the canal, divide by the square root of your mother’s birthday, and that’s when you want to leave Chesapeake City. Simple. We now know to time our arrival in the C&D to be sometime between now and November.

That exercise pretty much killed the coffee buzz. Then it was on to adjusting the rigging, an arcane art whose mystical formulae are known only to the Masons and a handful of persons bearing the self-proclaimed title “Rigger.” No such person is aboard Steadfast but the mast remains standing, regardless.

There was a time practicing wax-on-wax-off with the coamings, just so as not to lose the knack. The ports were cleared of the salt acquired during yesterday’s brief but bumpy run. Kate exercised using a contraption called “TRX” strapped to the boom.

And Aeolus continued to exercise his lungs, blowing straight down the Bay at 15, gusting to 25, or, so we were told by NOAA. And when NOAA speaks thusly, we listen.

Oh, and the banks surrounding the cove on which Steadfast sits continued to look beautiful, indeed.

The picturesque eastern branch of Cockrell Creek is, as you’d expect, a popular anchorage for the holiday.

So what’s with the “cruising” deal? Well, BoatUS Insurance formerly covered Steadfast only within the Bay. A phone call was placed to ask for a rider to cover her venture to New England—as in ’12—at which time Dane at BoatUS Underwriting said it’d be a lot cheaper just to get coverage for the entire East Coast (except Florida, which we can discuss later), a so-called “cruiser’s policy.” He quoted the additional amount and darned if it ain’t cheaper. Lots! So Steadfast now has been declared “cruising.” Cool.

And tomorrow, NOAA says, conditions will be favorable for her to cruise up the Bay to Solomons, MD, another 45 NM northward. From there, who knows. We’re cruising now, mates.

Steadfast out.

Friday, 23 May

It’s 0700 and anchor’s aweigh for Quintan.  The forecast calls for an already brisk northerly to build to 15-to-20 knots.  It should make for a rapid ride southward, back to Quintan’s home slip off the East River.  The crew of Steadfast enjoyed a second cup of “Joe” as Martha and George pause on the way past.  Good-byes and well-wishes exchanged, Quintan motors down Dividing Creek, headed for the Bay.

After a quiet night in Lawrence Cove, Quintan bids an early farewell on her way home to Mathews.

Steadfast, however, is bound northward, whence the wind blows this day.  And tomorrow, too, says NOAA.  That being the case, she may not make much northing but can give it a try, regardless.  So she shoves off at 1030 and, after a two-hour slog into a mostly three-foot chop, she moved a bit more than eight nautical miles northward to the mouth of the Great Wicomico River.  Solomons Island (MD)–the hoped-for next landfall–will wait ’til another day.

Instead, this evening she swings with each puff Aeolus blows over and through the trees that shelter the lovely cove east of Reedville in which she’s anchored.  This is a great spot (don’t tell anybody but it’s at N 37 degrees, 50.401’ W76 degrees 16.276’).  Handsome homes line the shore with only the sound of a John Deere lawn tractor competing with songs of the birds and the snap of the colors at the stern.

There’s none of the “smell of money” that wafted over Reedville in past visits.  Omega Protein has installed a new “scrubber” to its plant here to reduce that pungent fragrance.  Up Cockrell Creek a bit after midday, Steadfast was dwarfed by Omega’s big blue-hulled fleet.

Three of the dozen or more menhaden boats that work the Bay out of Reedville.

She may seek another nearby anchorage tomorrow, just for variety, but she’ll not test Aeolus at the mouth of the Potomac, not while he remains in this blustery mood.  And that’s okay.  Little Red–the Westerbeke–deserves a day off on a holiday weekend.  There are chores to be done, too, those that got pushed aside in the days and hours before departure, so a lay-over day won’t be wasted.

Things will be a bit different, though, from here on.  The “Dividing” done this morning, Steadfast and crew (and “Hallie” the black cat) now move on alone.  We miss our friends–all of you–already.  But this’ll be fun!

Steadfast out.

Thursday, 22 May

The distant sounds of artillery practice fire were heard on the Bay this afternoon.  The deep bass tones heard now are punctuated by sharp flashes of light that reflect off charcoal clouds moving eastward over Lawrence Cove.  Steadfast gently swings at anchor as the wind alternately shifts and quiets.  The first few drops on the canvas now are indistinguishable, washed away in the downpour that has followed.  She’s getting a good rinse!

All this transpired according to NOAA’s morning forecast, as had the light-to-non-existent so’westerly of the morning and afternoon as Steadfast motored back to the western shore in tandem with Quintan, another sunny, 80-degree, 30-mile day.

This cove off Dividing Creek was selected as the destination for its reputation as good shelter in a storm.  It’s worked out that way.  Martha and George stepped aboard this evening from Quintan presented the Steadfast crew with a gift selected for a similarly positive effect on the safety of a sailing vessel: a black cat.  Yes, that is the lore dating to ancient Egypt, even.  So who are we to question when, not long after this three-inch ceramic feline comes aboard, the rains yield to another good omen that arcs overhead to the north.

One suspects that for Steadfast and her crew, there may be a pot o’ gold at the northernmost end of that rainbow. And that would be an excellent forecast, indeed.

Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 21 May

Straining one’s eyes in the bright overcast, it’s possible to barely see or at least imagine the western shore.  Ahead, there’s a light blue pencil-thin line just above the horizon that marks the Eastern Shore.  Steadfast is just about smack dab in the middle of a barely rippled Chesapeake Bay, the Westerbeke diesel “Little Red” turning at 2,500 revs a minute and moving us along at 5 knots.

There’s no wind.  No other boats in sight but Quintan, a quarter mile off.   After the months of reading, planning and talking through; of organizing, packing, schlepping and putting-away; of washing, waxing, fixing and painting, yes…Steadfast is underway.  Woo-Hoo!

There still was a lot to do Wednesday morning to get things “ship shape”–both in the cottage AND on board–before the announced 1000 departure.  That being the case, the crew’s day had started at 0330 (!) with a quiet mopping of the kitchen floor before turning to tasks on Steadfast.  For the skipper, consciousness came only after a vain hour-long struggle to keep his thoughts clear of the to-do list that lingered.

Eventually, the final boxes went up the attic steps.  Provisions were stowed.  Sort of.  The Captains Burry motored across the creek on Miss Christine to bid their farewell, horns sounded, dock lines were coiled and cast off, and in tandem with Quintan–she’d arrived the evening before–the cruise northward began.

The 30-mile crossing to Onancock was uneventful, without incident.  No wind, no sea, motor all the way.  A favorable current kicked in for the final hour or so, pushing speed-over-ground to six-and-a-half knots.  Gear worked.  The sun came out.  The crew napped.  Both boats–Quintan is sharing these first two days–tied up smartly at the Town Wharf.  As has been noted before, “uneventful” on a sailboat is good.

A stroll through Onancock reveals “picture perfect” gardens gracing the many classic 19th century homes.

In this case, though, can we truly say “uneventful”?  Darlene and Willie–dear friends from Belle Haven–drove over to meet us to enjoy a delicious dinner at Mallard’s on the Wharf.  A bottle of bubbly made the occasion an event in itself.

But after all that preceded this day–you may have heard something of the months of reading, planning and talking through; of organizing, packing, schlepping and putting-away; of washing, waxing, fixing and painting–there was the little matter of Steadfast getting underway.

And THAT, friends, is an event!

More later.

Steadfast out.

Ahhhh.  The joys of cruising on a small sailing yacht.  Feeling the fresh wind on your face.  The warm sun on your back.

The ten-inch bronze cleat under your–ahem–derriere as you straddle the bowsprit and subsequently note the loss of feeling in your lower extremities.  Yes, now that is truly what cruising is all about.

So, in a  sense, Steadfast today was “cruising.”  At least, that is how your correspondent attempted to console himself as a warm wind blew ten-to-twelve out of the so’west, ideal for carrying a little boat northward up the Chesapeake Bay.  But no, tasks remain to be done before casting off.

So the bowsprit is straddled, brush in one hand, cup of varnish in the other,  contents of which then are applied–in a thin coat, mind you–to the golden teak that juts firmly from the little boat’s bow.  After which, without spilling the cup, one rises to move aft ward and thus to spread said contents on various rails here, there and elsewhere.

Why, you might ask, as any rational person would.  Especially given that there are other tasks that must be done before said boat may cast off and begin her journey northward.  Fairly significant tasks such as, oh, let’s just say, adjusting the rig (i.e., making sure the mast doesn’t fall down).  Or provisioning, i.e., procuring, schlepping and stowing food stuffs for the next week or so (after all, it’ll be that long, at least, before the crew sees another real supermarket).  Or topping off the diesel tank; that’d be a good idea, given the sparsity of fuel docks ‘tween here and, say, Annapolis.

But then, how much varnish does one wish to carry on a cruise to New England?  And more to the point, how much time on said cruise does one want to spend straddling the bowsprit, or kneeling on the side decks, while spread varnish?

So as many coats of said product as possible get spread on the teak railings prior to departure.  Fuel is something to burn.  Food is just something to eat.  But beauty, ah, the gleam, the sheen…the loveliness of a well-maintained yacht.

Now THAT, my friends, fuels dreams and feeds the soul!

For as Michael–with Ann on Nimue, our new friends from England–reminded the other day, “cruising is simply doing boat maintenance in lovely places.”

‘Tis a lovely place, Hallieford.  And this is boat maintenance, for sure.

Must be cruising!

Tomorrow, for sure.  The schedule calls for departure no later than 1000 hours, in tandem with Quintan and escorted by the crew of Plover.  It don’t get much better than that.

Steadfast out.