Well, I had a vision of daily posts and updates. First, the mobile computer connection took almost three
weeks to get up and running while really mobile. Second, I entirely underestimated the time available for anything other
than sailing and boat management. What follows covers about the first week. More to follow as time is available,
since we are now in the throes of the second part of the Bahamas move.
Brief summary. We made St. Augustine and Circe is now parked there pending decisions and time for completing
the trip to Nassau.
Friday, September 26th
Ready to go, at least as ready as we are going to be. Charlie Beelitz, my crew for the first leg, arrived last night. Charlie
is ex-Navy, but his experience at sea was on an aircraft carrier, so he qualifies as apprentice seaman, at least for this
trip. There were a few final details that needed to be done before leaving, so we were delayed a little, but we made the 9
AM bridge and are off. The plan calls for a stop tonight in Manasquan, courtesy of the dockmaster at the Manasquan Yacht Club,
another P30 owner, who offered the courtesy of the club this first night. Then on to Chincoteague, Virginia, to meet Pat and
Charlies wife, Pam, for a crew change. Then Pat and I will carry on as far south as we can get in 21 days, hopefully Miami,
where we plan to leave Circe until early next year, when we will make the crossing to Nassau.
The first leg, from Morgan to Sandy Hook, was a delight. Course due East, north wind. Turned the corner at the Hook and
the wind died. Oh, well, we’re only going as far as Manasquan, or so we think.
Well, things change. We picked up a beam wind out of the east, so we will skip Manasquan and go on. The next few ports
are difficult and the wind is perfect, so we will go through the night to Cape May. An interesting sidelight. We have the
occasional visitor, Monarch butterflies. It looks like we have joined their migration. They flutter around the boat for a
few minutes and then go on their way.
Last light and we are passing Barnegat Inlet. This is a dangerous place and is one of the inlets we chose not to attempt,
especially after dark. The shoals extend quite a way out and we don’t want to get even close. It’s a tricky bit of navigating,
but with a chart and the GPS we negotiated our way past the shoals and are safely on our way south. We will be going watch
and watch through the night. Charlie gets the first watch.
I’m back at about midnight and relieve Charlie. He said the coast disappeared after we passed the little towns south of
Barnegat. It’s all marshy bays almost all the way to Atlantic City and is virtually deserted. The wind continues fair.
2 AM and we are passing Atlantic City. It’s an eerie sight, with low clouds obscuring the tops of the neon palaces of perdition.
As we pass, the clouds lower and we are socked in with surface fog. It’s a strange sight, stars above and you can barely see
past the bow. A little scary, I don’t have a chart for this part of the coast and the new depth sounder isn’t yet installed,
but we feel our way south with the help of some "charts" in the Nynex marine yellow pages.
Saturday, September 27th
Getting on to about 6 AM and nearing Cape May. Lots of offshore shallows and, if we get too close to the shore, the ocean
swell lets us know by turning into combers. Since it’s still foggy, we are staying well away from the shore until the fog
clears and we can see where we are going.
Fog has cleared and we head into Cape May for fuel and food. On the way in we are asked by the vessel "Firefly" for local
info. We, of course, don’t have any but it turns out they are also from Morgan, right next door at Lockwoods. They are on
their way to (eventually) Cuba.
Fueled up, dropped the hook and breakfasted on bacon and eggs. It’s only forty miles, so we decide to continue on to Ocean
City. Left at 11 AM. Wind brisk from the southeast.
A brisk romp as we cross the mouth of Delaware Bay, the wind building as we get about half way across. I put a reef in
the main and, as I reset the sail, we blow out a panel. Not a good thing. We proceed under jib only. As we approach land near
Lewes, Delaware, about half way, the wind shifts to the south and things get decidedly rougher. We are pounding into a short
chop about 4 to 5 feet and have to motor. It’s clear our rendezvous in Chincoteague is off so we call the ladies and arrange
to meet them in Ocean City. Naturally, the Ocean City inlet is at the far south end of the city and we pound into the weather
for about four hours before finally reaching shelter.
I’m seriously depressed. I even think about abandoning the trip and selling the boat. I didn’t feel that the boat was as
ready as it should have been and thoughts of Donald Crowhurst keep running through my mind. A few years back he left England
for the single handed around the world race, also feeling unprepared, and after circling in the Caribbean for a while and
making false position reports, just walked off the back of his boat. I’m not that bad, but this definitely isn’t fun. I’ve
done a lot of long passages alone in many kinds of weather but I’ve never felt this down. Fortunately, Pat talks me out of
my funk, reminding me how much I love Circe. We decide to carry on, but it will take me a few days to get back with the program.
We will spend the next two nights in Ocean City waiting for a replacement main we found in Annapolis.
Wednesday, October 1st
All put back together, we leave early this morning for Wachapreague. Not as far as we would like to go, but it’s the only
stop before the long run to Norfolk. The sailing in this area of the coast is really different. Shoals extend far from the
shore, usually several miles. It is necessary to go out to the sea buoys and run far offshore to the sea buoy off your destination
port before running inshore. We reach Wachapreague before dark and start the run in. There is a place just inside the inlet,
near the abandoned Coast Guard station, where we could anchor but we need fuel and decide to go into the town, where there
is a marina.
Well, that turned out to be a serious error in judgement. I’m beginning to understand why the Waterway Guide focuses on
the Chesapeake route. The Wachapreague inlet is a long, straight run in from the sea buoy that passes between two shallow
shoals, which break heavily close on either side of us. The end of the inlet passes within 50 feet of the beach near the end.
We had little difficulty with this part, even though it was a little tense. The problem occurred as we got close to the town,
which is about four or five miles further on, down a twisting, shallow stream. We arrived on a falling tide and went aground
twice. The first time a passing fisherman pulled us off with no incident. The second time we got the stern stuck while trying
to get off ourselves. Another fisherman helped but tried to pull us off by the stern. The tiller swung around and, on the
way by, snapped the off push rod of my faithful autopilot before breaking the ears off the rudderhead fitting. Fortunately,
the improvement I just made to the rudderhead casting survived perfectly but, standing there with the tiller in my hand I
felt small comfort. We accepted a tow (with, for you salvage experts, our line) and tied up at the bulkhead at Mr. Randy Lewis’
marina, the only mast for miles. While we contemplated our options, we decided to have dinner at the restaurant rather than
cook. Well, the story doesn’t end here. With a low tide, it was a pretty good climb to the dock. As Pat went to leave the
boat, she went overboard. It was dark, the tide was still running out and we were alone. I got a line to her and ran for help.
With the assistance of some folks from the restaurant we managed to lift her up to the point where she could reach the bottom
of the ladder. The local Fire Department came and checked her out and, except for a few cuts and bruises from the oysters
on the pilings, she came through OK. We spent the night in the local motel and after a hot shower and a meal were able to
get through the night.
Thursday, October 2nd
Today we considered our options. Except for the broken ears, the rudderhead fitting survived intact. The tiller casting
was intact. With the kind assistance of one of the local residents who adopted us, we were able to get the ears welded back
on and, later in the day, got the tiller reassembled. My old depth sounder had failed and I had a new one on board, not yet
installed. That must go in. The autopilot is a serious loss, but we will have to deal with that later.
Pat came through this ordeal like the champion that she is. She never gave up. Well, almost. For a brief moment, when she
was hanging on the ladder, a hairs breadth from being swept to her death, she said once "I want to go home".
Friday, October 3rd
The next morning, with everything back in operation, depth sounder installed, we prepared to leave Wachapreague. The high
tide wouldn’t come until about 3 PM, which wouldn’t work at all. There is nothing between here and Norfolk, which is a long
day away. At about 8, when the tide was just past dead low, we decide to feel our way out. It took a while, bue we managed
to find our way out to the inlet. Another nerve wracking run out to the sea bouy and we are on our way.
I can see why no one sails on this coast. Most of the way to Cape Charles we are 3 to 5 miles offshore in 15 feet of water.
We finally reach Cape Charles under power just before sunset and begin the crossing of the mouth of Chesapeake Bay. Fortunately
the Bay Bridge is a great seamark, with a string of lights showing the passages clearly. We need the help, because the night
is dark. The waves have kicked up and it’s not a pleasant ride. We pound through the weather and finally reach Hampton Roads.
I had planned to anchor in Willoughby Bay but, as things turned out, there are so many lights that I can’t find it. I eventually
manage to locate Old Point Comfort light. There is an anchorage behind it. It’s pretty small but, by following the 16 foot
depth line I slide right in and drop the hook for what turns out to be a pretty rolly night. In the morning we try to get
some fuel at the military marina, but they are closed for repairs. Isabelle hit them pretty hard. The damage was extensive,
with the T-heads on the docks stacked like splintered matchwood. We cross the Roads, pass the naval base and enter the Elizabeth
River, where we finally reach Mile 0 of the Intracoastal Waterway. We locate a marina where we fuel up and, with a few hours
of courtesy dockage, I find a replacement autopilot at the West Marine store, at the expense of a $30 cab ride. Doesn’t matter.
I couldn’t make the trip without it.
After the heavy weather offshore the Intracoastal is a delight. We’ll be a motorboat for the next thousand miles or so
but the protected waters are a welcome change.
After a few bridges, where we have to wait for scheduled openings, we reach the entrance to the Dismal Swamp Canal, our
planned route south. We were looking forward to a stop at Elizabeth City, which has a great reputation among Waterway travellers.
Unfortunately, the sign at the entrance announces that the Canal is closed. Oh, well, on to the Virginia cut route.
After we leave the industrial busyness of the Norfolk area, the nature of the Waterway changes dramatically. We enter a
world of scrub pine and marshes. Stick to the middle and watch out for floating snags. Pat assumes the role of navigator and
keeps track of our progress on the chart. It’s good for me, because I can pay attention to the operation of the boat, and
it’s good for her, not only because it keeps her busy, but it also gives her a sense of confidence about where we are and
where we are going. Planning the day becomes a job she will take for the rest of the trip, checking progress and planning
stops for the night. This first night on the Waterway we stop at Pungo Ferry, a small marina in the marshland south of Norfolk.
There is also an anchorage here but we don’t yet have the confidence to tackle a night on the hook here. This turns out to
be a great choice. The buffet at Captain Georges is on of the highlights of the trip. Full of good food and tired from a long
day, we gratefully retire for the first night in the Intracoastal.
Saturday, October 4th
