Monthly Archives: October 2014

Adventure flies her tanbark mizzen.

Thursday, 30 October                                    50.2 SM

A nor’westerly puts 12 knots over the transom, giving Steadfast an extra kick out of Upper Dowry Creek and into the Pungo River. She turns to the west, the genny unfurls and just like that, she’s (motor-) sailing downstream at a sprightly five-and-a-half knots (six-and-a-half miles-an-hour). The Dudley Dix schooner Adventure follows, Lee and Dick having said they, too, plan to layover in Oriental while the wind becomes a nor’easter this weekend.

Shrimpers perch high above the water to spot their prey.

The four-miles across the Pamlico River are quickly astern and Steadfast turns due south down narrow Goose Creek. The genny’s no longer much help but there is a nifty current (enjoy while we can!) that sweeps her along past Eastham Creek, the first of a couple of anchorages that had been considered for an overnight stop. But it’s just lunch-time, far too early to call it a day, so on she goes past shrimpers working the flats, under the Hobucken Bridge and abeam of a big girl tied up at R. E. Mayo’s wharf.

Snowbirds sometimes share the wharf at R.E. Mayo’s, a pier that caters to the commercial fishermen.

Sailing up the Neuse under a mottled sky.

By 1400, she’s running down the broad Bay River to skirt Maw Point Shoal and join the Neuse. There’s more east in that northerly now. It’s coming over the Outer Banks with growing fervor. It’s become a tad lumpy out here but Oriental beckons.

Well ahead, off the starboard bow, Adventure’s tanbark foresail can be seen turning north to anchor in Broad Creek. Steadfast, undistracted, continues west, up river. The green “7” at Garbacon Shoal hides in the afternoon sun but eventually peeks out from the dark shore. Then it’s easy to spot the markers leading to Whittaker Creek and what will be “home” for the weekend.

Miss Helen’s makes the perfect home in a blow.

Up in the creek, there’s a hard turn to port to squeeze between Deaton’s Boatyard and Sailcraft Marina, down what seems sure to be a dead end. Instead, the narrow fairway of Tarpon Inlet splits, homes on each high bank hidden by towering pines. Each home with a pier, each pier a vessel and most of those sailboats. Steadfast turns here to the west and, by 1630, is tucked in at the pier behind Miss Helen’s house, masthead in the pines.

The day’s transit is done, much more quickly and easily than expected. The weekend, too, it turns out, will far exceed expectations.

More to come. Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 29 October                                                                                    31 SM

A tug and tow may lurk around any bend.

If there’s any question why they built the Alligator-Pungo Canal, a quick look at the chart gives the answer. West of Tuckahoe Point, the Alligator River squiggles like a pair of Paloma Picasso earrings. It’s impossible to picture a tug-and-tow piloting those turns, even if that part of the river had the depth.

By contrast, the A-P Canal is straight as a ruler, easily twice as wide as the Dismal Canal and two to three times as deep. The Garmin often shows 18’ as Steadfast motors west-so’west at just over five-knots, ten miles to the Fairfield Bridge. There’s a slight turn to starboard, then another ten or so before she pops out into the Pungo River proper.

The Alligator-Pungo is another straight shot.

Acre after acre of tall pines pack the shore, swaying slightly to the southerly breeze. There’s a break here and there, filled with swamp grass of such uniform height it’s as if someone had taken a scythe to it. Then more pine. Broken stumps line the shallows on either side and, on occasion, a row of crab pot floats. But that’s it.

Stumps encroach eager to grab the unwary.

It was “anchor’s aweigh” at 0800, Steadfast pulling away from Bear Point and into the channel behind Phase II, Dream Catcher, Living the Dream and Over the Rainbow (do you see a theme here? If there’s doubt, Snowbird and Journey are up ahead, too, heard from time to time calling others on the VHF). Other than that, and the occasional powerboat passing to port, there wasn’t much to break up this leg. A real easy six hour, thirty mile run.

By 1400, Steadfast pulls up to the fuel dock—even Red, as dainty as she is, builds an appetite after a couple of days running hard—at Dowry Creek Marina, a tidy mom-and-pop kind-of-place about a mile off the ICW just east of Belhaven, NC. Twelve gallons later, and with thunderstorms forecast overnight, she pulled down the pier to a slip for what’s hoped to be a quiet night.

Kinda like the day’s run.

Steadfast out.

Tuesday, 28 October                                                                                    52.1 SM

“Ah, it’s a beautiful mornin’, ain’t it? Gus gazes out to the Pasquotank, the adds, “You won’t have no trouble crossin’ the Sound today.” This prediction comes in a soft Carolina drawl, his grizzled face etched by years along the river and sound. Gus takes seriously his role as a Rose Buddy, reporting for “duty” not long after first light. Now he leans on the bulkhead rail above the slip where Steadfast spent the night, courtesy of Elizabeth City, North Carolina.

The Antares 44 Two Fish turns down the Pasquotank into a rising sun.

Little Red idles in readiness for an 0800 departure as Gus bends his lanky frame to cast off a stern line, then standing by to fend off, explains the basis for his forecast.

“Mah fatha use-ta say ‘For evera unch awn tha rivah, thah’s a foot o’sea on tha Sound.’” A broad grin fills his face. “Ah doan see no rupples this mornin’.”

No ripples, indeed, the river surface all glassy swirls as Steadfast gets underway. For a while, there is enough west in soft southerly to encourage an attempt at motor sailing but that’s brief. The genny’s unfurled just long enough to provide the illusion of sailing before she flaps in futility and is coiled again.

Little Red , though, keeps pluggin’ along, pushing Steadfast at an easy 5-and-a-half knots, farther south by 6-and-a-half statute miles every hour. The broad span of the Pasquotank opens gradually to the even broader horizons of Albemarle Sound, neither offering much in the way of depth. A reading of fifteen feet seems like a lot.

A Navy blimp heads toward her hangar on the Pasquotank.

The heading turns to 192 magnetic toward the mouth of the Alligator River, the entrance channel snaking among shoals before running four miles straight to where the highway bridge swings open to allow three more Snowbirds to continue their flight south.

Dream Catcher catches up to Steadfast crossing the Sound.

One is the Cape Dory 36 Dream Catcher, a boat and crew first encountered two summers ago in Tenant’s Harbor, ME. Much of this day, she has been traveled in tandem with Steadfast. Small world, as they say. She slowly pulls a half-mile ahead and, as the Alligator narrows, drops off the channel to anchor off Deep Point. Steadfast continues a mile more and drops the hook in seven feet off Bear Point, just in time to visit again with Gail and Jason who’ve anchored nearby on Two Fish, their Antares 44 catamaran.  It’s been a fine day, Steadfast now more than 100 miles down The Ditch.

Steadfast lays to her anchor just outside the channel off Bear Point.

It’s just after 1900 hours. The sun leaves a pink glow on the horizon. It’s quiet. That 15 knot southerly has laid down to a whisper. Rowing back to Steadfast is a whole lot easier than the trip over. In fact, the whole transit, all eight-plus hours, is just as Gus predicted this morning. No trouble at all.

Steadfast out.

Monday, 27 October                                                                                                22.4 SM

Steadfast follows the foam trail left by Modaki.

“It’s Silly Hat Day! Everybody put on your silly-looking hat.” So orders the young mate aboard Funny Duck, a Fales Navigator 32 from Rhode Island bound four Charleston, SC. She sports a knit cap with earflaps tied under her chin. Not that any on the Dismal Swamp Canal this morning needed encouragement to don a warm, i.e., “silly-looking” hat. Watch cap, ski cap, mountain-man hat, whatever. Forty-one degrees, says Accu-Guess, and never has 41 felt so cold. Brrrrrr.

At 0730, the sun is up but not nearly enough to turn on the heat under the leafy canopy that covers the canal. The forecast promises something in the 70s but not here, not now.

The bridge rises to welcome boats to Elizabeth City.

Timing is everything. Steadfast is part of the parade this morning that pulls away from the Welcome Center on its way to the 0830 opening at South Mills Lock and, once through, sundry harbors beyond. Sovereign leads the way, Steadfast follows with others close behind. Once through the lock, Steadfast falls to the side allowing those with more “horses” to move ahead. It’s not long before all that’s seen of them is the foam from their wakes.

Much of Elizabeth City takes you back to the 50s.

The harbor-of-choice for Steadfast this day is Mariner’s Wharf, the municipal pier in Elizabeth City that’s among the most favored for Snowbirds. The reason has less to do with convenience than price. Dockage is free for 48 hours. And then there are the Rose Buddies.

Rose Buddies patrol the pier at Mariner’s Wharf.

The Rose Buddies are a tradition that started in the mid-80s, a volunteer welcoming party that prowls the pier from sunrise to sunset, with helping hand for each visiting boat and a rose for each lady aboard. They’re great.

But instead of the Buddies, it’s Pat and Richard of Sovereign who catch the stern lines for Steadfast when she eases in about 1400. That left time for a brisk walk around town before the dockside “happy hour” hosted by the Buddies. There was a spiel in support of local merchants and for the Albemarle Museum, along with a bit of local knowledge for transiting the Pasquotank and crossing Albemarle Sound. Refreshments, of course, too.

But with the sun warming the wharf, no need for silly hats.

Steadfast out.

Robert provides direction to the crew of Sovereign.

Weak signal. Must have open view to sky. OK?  GPS dialogue box while on Dismal Swamp Canal

Sunday, 26 October                                                                                        18.4 SM

Tannin-colored swamp water rushes into the lock.

Snowbirds who’ve spent the night at the free dock gather now at the Lockmaster’s House, a small white frame two-room cottage that serves as Robert Peek’s office and storm shelter. His guests already have consumed one pot of coffee. He’s brewed a second, opened a plastic tray of fresh fruit cubes and brought out a stack of every sort of breakfast pastry Entenmann’s bakes when he adds this advisory.

Steadfast motors through Deep Creek Bridge.

“You do realize, the bridge doesn’t open ‘til all this is gone!”

There are chuckles but Robert is only half joking. The lock slowly fills with what he assures is “the cleanest, purest water in North America. The tannin content means there’s no bacteria.” The gates on the lock’s north end then swing slowly aside for the scheduled 0830 opening and the day’s first customers, Robert instructing each on where and how to tie off to the bulkhead. The history class begins, questions are answered, more coffee poured, pastries enjoyed and then, once crews reboard their respective yachts, the lock opens and Robert makes the short drive downstream to raise the Deep Creek Bridge. The “0830 opening” finally is completed about 0930.

Her vitals having been checked, Little Red answers the call and Steadfast motors away from “Elizabeth’s Dock” and joins the morning parade. A nearly complete cedar and pine canopy lets a little sun stream through the top but not much in the way of satellite or cell tower signals. (Hence the message on the GPS screen. Not that the GPS is needed for waypoints here, just for clicking off the distance.) There is beauty, though, and lots of quiet.

There’s no mistaking the VA-NC state line.

Not long after crossing the state line, Sovereign’s unmistakable red hull is seen tied off at the south end of the North Carolina Welcome Center. A 44’ American Tug, Pat and Richard are heading back home to Florida’s Gulf Coast and motored well ahead of Steadfast all morning after locking through Deep Creek. Richard beckons, readies fenders and in short order Steadfast rafts up to Sovereign’s starboard side.

Steadfast got squeezed at the Welcome Center.

Along with free dockage for the night, the state provides a water hook-up, restrooms and travel information aimed mainly at passing motorists. There’s also a swing bridge across the canal to Dismal Swamp State Park with an exhibit center and miles of walking trails. It’s just an all-around great place to stop along the way.

Just a shame Robert won’t be here with coffee and pastry in the morning.

Steadfast out.

Saturday, 25 October                                                            24.1 Statute Miles (SM)

The Navy Yards line both sides of the Elizabeth.

“Alright, guys. Welcome to the oldest continuously operating artificial waterway in the United States.” And with that, lockmaster and ersatz history professor Robert Peek opens another class in Dismal Swamp 101.

This is the day’s denouement. Well, almost. But that’s another story of another crew on another boat, all quite remarkable and for another time.

For Steadfast, a day full of sunshine started shortly before 1000 as she motored briskly across Hampton Flats and up the Elizabeth River past the Navy’s Atlantic Fleet. It was just about noon when she approached Portsmouth and came abeam of Red Nun 36, what serves as “Mile Marker Zero” for the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway. All of this she’d seen before but from there on, it’d all be new.

This way to Do the Ditch.

Southbound traffic seemed unusually light for late October, with Steadfast having the waterway pretty much all to herself. After Naval Station Norfolk and the commercial wharves at Lambert’s Point came ships in dry dock at the Norfolk Naval Yards and more industrial sites.  She idled in place when mechanical problems with the Gilmerton Bridge pushed its 1330 opening back to 1400. Then it was under the 64 “high-rise” and hard to starboard to enter the Dismal Swamp Canal and, as the sign says, “Do the Ditch.”

Interstate 64 runs just beyond the trees.

For Steadfast and those aboard her, this is a first. None of us has done this canal before and it is clear immediately that this experience will be like none other before. Back from its banks, the Dismal is stunning in its beauty. Repetitive, yes, as the beauty of the mountains or sky or the sea itself. But just like them it inspires awe, as in, how can such unspoiled wilderness exist so close to “civilization?” The interstate highway runs a hundred yards away for cryin’ out loud!

Steadfast enters the lock at Deep Creek.

Shortly after leaving the Elizabeth, the Dismal straightens for the run to run to Deep Creek, ten miles south of Portsmouth, where the canal’s first lock (when southbound, at least) will raise Steadfast about 12’. With his audience captive below, the lock master paces above while he expounds on little known facts about the Dismal Swamp and the canal completed in 1805.

As Robert will tell you, the Dismal is a totally unique habitat. There’s nothing else like it anywhere. Cedar forests, living peat bogs, an array of flora and fauna unmatched in North America. And much like the Dismal, Robert is a one-of-a-kind himself. Twenty years at the controls of the Deep Creek lock (and the bridge just south) which means 20 years to study and recount all that was and is the Canal. And to cultivate palms, collect lawn decor and develop his ability to trumpet a conch shell.

The call of the conch means class is in session.

Along with the history, he offers a life lesson, too. In the hands of another, tending the lock at Deep Creek could be among the most boring jobs imaginable. Close the gates, fill the lock, open the gates, answer the same questions from Snowbirds all day, every day.  But Robert’s made it something well beyond the job description. He’s made it meaningful, memorable and enjoyable, not just for himself but for all those who happen his way, four times a day, for twenty years.

What a kick.  What an example.  What a blessing!

Whatever you’re doing, enjoy your day!

Steadfast out.

Wednesday, 22 October                                                                        .4 NM

The rig howls, hull rocks and a heavy morning mist morphs to rain. There’s not much about this to encourage Steadfast to leave her slip at the Hampton Public Piers. Not much, that is, beyond the lure of reciprocity, i.e., a free slip, at Hampton Yacht Club.

There’d been some confusion yesterday, it seems, when a couple of calls to the club failed to secure dockage for the night. But, s’all good today. “Bravo-ten” awaits.

So, between showers, Steadfast slips her lines and is underway for the “crossing”…downstream less than half-a-mile to HYC for the night.

Maybe two, given NOAA’s call for a gale tomorrow. Even though it’s a short trip up the Elizabeth to Mile Marker Zero, gale force winds are more than recommended for a pleasurable day.

Besides, what’s the hurry?  And after all, we are a bit closer to Florida.  Aren’t we?

Steadfast out.

A ship in harbor is safe but that is not what ships are built for. John Augustus Shedd, American author and professor

Tuesday, 21 October                                                                                                30.4 NM

At 0949 this date, after more than three weeks tied up or hauled out in one harbor or another, Steadfast once again started doing what she was built for. But getting her going again hasn’t been easy.

You get it done right at ZMI.

Life these past weeks has felt as if it were orchestrated by the Allstate insurance guy, Mayhem. The 1,800 miles of the summer put a lot of wear on Steadfast. Given that she may not get a break again for another 1,800 miles, there was so much to be done before she, and we, would be ready to head south.

Caroline and others helped with the “spa” treatment.

For the “girls”—Steadfast and Little Red—this was three weeks of bliss. They spent the first two at their favorite spa, Zimmerman Marine in Deltaville. Steadfast was bathed, massaged and manicured. Michael spent some time fitting Red with a new set of comfy sneakers (nifty rubber engine mounts). Chad checked all of Red’s vitals, declaring her in good health and fit for the miles and hours ahead.

The first 30 of those were a motor-sail down to New Point, across Mobjack Bay and up the East River to Ebb Tide, the Woodas Creek home of good friends Martha and George. How good, you ask? For three weeks, Ebb Tide was “home” to us, too. And once Steadfast tied up at their pier, George spent almost as much time as we did getting her ready.

The new-to-us WB10 needed a new drain plug.

There was the hunting for and buying a dinghy (well, actually two but that’s another story) then trailering to Ebb Tide to replace the drain plug, add cleats, splice lines and a painter. Kate got it registered on a day trip to Richmond. George helped fabricate insulation to fill a void in the icebox under the galley counter, tiller extension for the Torqueedo, a PVC fender “pipe” to keep the topsides off the bulkheads and fixed piers along the way. The list goes on.  (There also was cappuccino, AKA “frothy deliciousness,” in the morning, grilled fish steaks at night and, for medicinal purposes only, a Dark & Stormy or two.)

Bruce-the-Shipwright was back on board, too, installing a nifty custom bracket for the new larger Dura-Weld plastic holding tank which then, of course, needed to be plumbed into the existing system. On deck, the swim ladder came down, was polished, re-bedded and reinstalled.  All the bright work was prepped for a couple of coats of LeTonkinois to guard against the Florida sun (we hope).

Steadfast snuggled up to Quintan at the Ebb Tide pier.

Lockers were emptied and Kate cleaned the cabin, everywhere, even waxed the overhead, then cleaned and re-treated the canvas, too. And, of course, there were the usual several loads of laundry along with re-provisioning.

In between all that, there was a drive to Annapolis to take a shift at the boat show booth for Good Old Boat magazine, and, a couple of days of seminars at the “Snowbird Rendezvous” in Hampton (great information, highly recommended!).

Despite all the projects completed, there was more that could’ve been done. There always is with a boat. If one waits ‘til the boat’s ready, she’ll never leave the pier. So the decision was made—NOAA had a lot of input, forecasting a gale later in the week—to shove off early Tuesday, setting off a final 48-hour frenzy of activity.

Now, though, the sun shines. A soft southerly wind whispers its invitation to join the Snowbirds. Steadfast accepts, crossing Mobjack, then the mouth of the York and rounding Old Point Comfort for a couple of nights in Hampton.  After more than three weeks in one harbor or another, Steadfast once again is underway, doing what she was built for. What a blessing!

Steadfast out.