day sixteen - "baby, that's a hard no"

Calm night, all the storms seemed to disappear.  Sail off anchor 6:30, 3.0 down Bear Creek to the Bay River.  

7:15 main and jib down to motor north on the ICW / Goose Creek Canal.  I pass the little cut to Jones Bay to starboard.  Just beyond that to port is R.E. Mayo company with the shrimp boats tied up alongside.  I ofter see bigger sailboats tied up there, both to get fuel and supplies, I guess there is a little shop in there.  And they sell the shrimp that comes in right off the boats.  I ought to pick up some shrimp sometime.

Easy, peaceful motoring on the calm canal.  

8:45 green marker "15" where the canal goes from being a canal to the lower reaches of Goose Creek.  A nice breeze and the water opens up wide, so sails up.  

Making 2.3.  Crabbers working their pots on the little creeks on both side of the marked channel.

9:45 passing red marker "2", the ICW curves to the east to bend around some shallow.  I turn north before green marker "1" and slip over the shallows on to the Pamlico River.  9:55 making 2.6 with wind over the port quarter.  Waves, rolling down the Pamlico River, on the beam, making for an uncomfortable ride.  10:35 better wind, 3.0 headed across the Pamlico towards Wades Point.  Catch a crab pot float with the rudder, bring up the blade and reset the rudder.  

Making 4.4 with some good wind that comes in puffs.  11:30 good wind on the beam and making 5.0 to the north up the Pungo River.  Start looking for the entrance channel markers into Pantego Creek and Belhaven.  1:30 sail through the wooden breakwater.  1:50 tied up at the small floating dock on Wyn's gut.  

Walk next door to the marina and pay for the overnight dock.  I run into some "loopers," trawler folks that are doing the Great Loop that I had met in Oriental.  I would like to get a cold drink at the marina but all they have is beer and it is too early in the day for me.

Every visit to Belhaven, a quiet town with empty buildings that is well off the beaten path, I shake my head at the parking signs downtown that limit parking to two hours.  I think they ought to say "please stay with us a while, two hours, four hours, stay as long as you like."

The ICW Brewery is in an old building just across the street from my dock.  I enjoy a nice pale ale while talking with a couple who are passing through on a very high end trawler that was anchored out in the river.  

Dinner is at the Tavern at Jack's Neck, a nice burger and fries in the quiet restaurant.

I'm under the boom tent setting up my sleeping gear when a power boat comes in with two couples aboard.  I can see them, they can't see me. I hear a brief exchange.

"Hey baby, how would like to be on that boat over there, the one with the Virginia numbers?"

Brief pause.

"Uh, baby, that's a hard no"

day fifteen - light winds to Bear Creek

A blueberry muffin and glass of iced tea at The Bean with the guys.  Then a quick goodbye, shaking hands with Jimmy, a friend I see almost every time I am down there.  Cast off 8:00, full sail in light winds outside the jetty at 8:15.  Making 1.9.  Broken overcast, a lot of moisture in the air.  

Making 2.5 out on the Neuse River, then 3.6.  I hear thunder, see dark clouds to the northeast.  Storm Radar shows them over Pamlico Sound and moving away.  Good!

9:00 wind over the port quarter, 2.6.  9:10 motor sailing.  9:40 getting very hot.  Almost no wind, motoring and sails slatting back and forth.  

10:50 round Long Point Shoal.  11:30 a hint of wind.  11:50 Maw Point.   A tug and barge coming down the ICW, snow bird yachts heading up the ICW.  Plenty of room and I'm well outside the marked channel.  A little more wind.  12:05 finally sailing, 3.1 with wind over port quarter.  12:30 wind swinging around in different directions.  Making 2.2 towards Bear Creek.  

The chart shows a shoal on the south side of the creek entrance.  Stay to the north until we are past Sanders Point, then turn into good water in the Middle of Bear Creek.  Easy sailing on pretty water.  Turn up into Riggs Creek.  Anchor down 1:55.

Thunder storms seem to be heading our way.  Another batch of clouds to the east.

4:15 thunder.  A thunderstorm heads our way at 5:00, then slides to the north of us.  I am getting warnings on my phone.  

Evening.  One last thunderstorm threatens, then dissipates.  Just a sprinkling of rain.

18.92 NM

day fourteen - Oriental, again

Under power just after 6:00, tying up at the boat ramp to get rid of some trash.  Round the point and motor into Oriental.   

Tied up along the bulkhead, I walk across the street to The Bean for a muffin and iced tea.  

I've used up my two free days at the town dock, so walk next door to the marina and inn, paying for a slip for the night.  At two bucks a foot, not a bad deal.  

It's a morning of the usual chores - laundry, cleaning up the boat, drying out gear, recharging batteries.  A visit to the Provision Company for some supplies.

There are some Plein Air painters in town.  As per usual, they are painting every boat in the harbor expect SPARTINA.  I console myself with a crab cake lunch.

An afternoon walk through town.  Back to the boat, I visit with the locals who drop by the waterfront.

A light dinner, then a dark n' stormy at the tiki hut.

.82 NM

 

evening sail ("Let's play two!"*)

 

Sailed this morning to beat the heat, casting off at 6:30 and coming in two hours later.  Forecast called from a nice evening breeze, so headed out at 5:30 for a second sail of the day.  Photo from friend Brandon, captain of the tall ship American Rover.

* quote from philosopher / Chicago Cubs short stop and MLB Hall of Fame member Ernie Banks

day thirteen - the parallax view

Steady rain all night.  Wake feeling so comfortable in my sleeping bag I wonder where I am, then realize I am on the boat.  Heavy rain in the morning.  A couple of very strong gusts whip through the cove.

Hot chocolate with breakfast, then a cup of hot tea.  Forecast shows rain all day, strong winds until late morning.  I read the news, sleep a bit, read a chapter of my book.  

10:00 light rain, cloud not as dark and low as they had been.  Lunch. 12:30 rain mostly gone.  A few strong gusts of dry wind roll through.  The back side of the front?

2:00 wind swings to the east and the anchorage becomes uncomfortable.  Think of moving down the creek to a better spot, but soon realize that the front has moved through much quicker than forecast.  Checking my Storm Radar app confirms this.  Start packing up the sleeping and cooking gear.  Everything tucked away, take down the boom tent as blue skies show through the clouds.

2:25 under power out of the creek, 2:40 on the South River and full sail.  3:45 passing red marker "2", head out on to the Neuse River.  Making 3.4 with low broken overcast, blue skies to the west.  One last dark cloud passes overhead, the water quivers.  

Lovely downwind sailing across the Neuse, particularly when I consider the forecast called for steady rain in the afternoon.  Oriental is just across the wide river.

5:10 through the jetties  into Smith Creek.  I've used up my two free nights at the town dock, so pass under the bridge, round the point with the boat ramp and turn up into Camp Creek.  5:40 anchor down. 

I'm under the boom tent reading when I hear a voice say "Did you damage my boat?  I saw you right up against her when you came in."  I turn around to see what could best be described as an old hippie.  He is rowing a little boat.  Long grey hair in a ponytail, missing a few teeth, old fogged glasses.  I asked him what he was talking about.

"I saw you.  You were right up against my boat! I just rowed around her but couldn't find any damage."  He's pointing to an old wooden trawler style boat up the creek about 60 or 80 feet away.  I realize he had come from Blackwell Point, and looking from the little marina there he had seen SPARTINA in line with his boat, but not near the boat.  

"If you find any damage on your boat, it's not from me," I tell him.  "This is as close as I have been," motioning to the distance between the two boats.  

I hear a man calling from a pier across the creek, asking the old hippie if he needs any help.  "I don't," he says, "but this guy here needs a tow.  Can you help him with your power boat?"  He is pointing at me.

"What are you talking about?" I ask him.  "I've got sails, I've got an outboard, I can go anywhere I want. And I am anchored just where I want to be." 

I think about this time he realizes that from a different view, he would have seen I wasn't anywhere near his boat.  So he starts to make some small talk.  "We call this Cove Creek right here, I've had my boat anchored here for a couple of years.  Got a good deal on it and bought it.  Brought it here, haven't moved it since."

"Cove Creek?" I say.  "Isn't there a Camp Creek around here?"

The old hippie looks confused.  He glances around a bit, says "Oh yeah, this is Camp Creek."  Turns his little rowboat around and rows aways.  Later I see him standing at the marina looking down the creek at me, probably wondering if I was going to hit his boat.

11.95 NM

day twelve - the atmospheric river

Calm night, peaceful morning.  I open up the boom tent for some fresh air.  Hot chocolate with a hot breakfast - mountain berry granola.

The gust begin to build at 7:30.  Rain now and then.  And I get into my routine for long rainy days.  Slip on the dry suit (even though my tent keeps out the rain, with heavy rains and high winds the moisture is everywhere). I sometimes call it hibernation, but I know that is not the correct term as I don't sleep all day.  So I search the internet and find an appropriate, certainly timely word (considering my interactions with the reptile) yesterday:  Brumation.

Brumation is a state of sluggishness and inactivity that reptiles, such as snakes and lizards, enter during winter or periods of low temperatures. Unlike true hibernation, brumating reptiles may occasionally wake to drink water but generally do not eat for extended periods.

Okay, so I don't have scales and I do eat.  I drift off into this space somewhere not quite awake, not quite asleep. Resting, relaxing. Look out the back of the boom tent now and then to check our position.  Visit the weather apps to see what's coming.  Go back to sleep.  There is something cleansing about these calm, quiet days, and time passes quickly.

1:00 overcast and swirling winds.  Rain on and off.

2:00 move in closer to shore to get out of the wind.  Surprisingly deep water next to the marsh.

7:00 thunderstorms and heavy rain.  I tuck into the sleeping bag and drift off to sleep.

 

day eleven - the stowaway

 

Under power at 6:25, headed north on Turnagain Bay.  Calm clear morning, light east wind that I hope will fill in. 

Forecast has changed to show rain arriving midday, with heavy rains tomorrow.  I look south down Turnagain Bay and see Dave's Capri still anchored there.

7:15 leaving the Bay as wind fills in.  Out on the Neuse River put on the dry suit as rain is not too far away.  Heading for Oriental.  Sailing downwind at 3.4.  8 a.m. decide to head towards the South River, just across the Neuse from Oriental.  Glance back and see a sail.  Grab the binoculars, I keep them in the starboard quarter of the boat next to the boomkin and under the after deck where they would stay out of the rain.  With the glass I can see it is Dave leaving Turnagain Bay.  Put the binoculars back in place.

8:10 distant thunder in the dark clouds to the southwest.  8:15, approaching the entrance to the South River, more thunder.  I take a short cut and cut across the shoal inside of green marker "1" and head directly towards red marker "2".  8:45 at red "2" and on the South River.  Calm water and wind has swung to the southeast, making long steady tacks across the river. Dark clouds and thunder seem to have moved on.  Easy sailing and I get out the blue tooth speaker, which is kept in the starboard quarter right next to the binoculars, so I can enjoy some music. 

10:40 light sprinkling rain.  I don't want to get the speaker wet, so I go to stow it away.  Lifting the binoculars to make room, I see a round reddish shape.  First thought - a coiled red line.  Second thought - Is that my rusted camera bracket?  Third thought - snake!  I am surprised to find it there, and a little shocked to realize I had been moving the binoculars and speaker without noticing it earlier.

Poisonous or not?  I have two friends who found snakes on their boats, both times they were Northern Water snakes, easily recognizable with their dark bands.  This one is reddish, maybe even a little coppery colored.  Copperhead?  

I try to look at the snake's head to see if has that "V" for venomous-shaped head. Leaning in closer for a look, the snake tucks its head into its coil.  Slowly, the snake's head emerges, probably just as curious about me as I am about it.

I conclude that it is probably not a Copperhead, probably not venomous.   I clear aways the electronics box in the stern and the oar inside the starboard side of the boat.  If I am going to mess with it, I don't want it to have anywhere to hide.   Even non-venomous snakes can bite, so I am glad to have the layered protection of my dry suit, and I slip on a pair of insulated rubber gloves.  

Reaching in with the boat hook,  the snake slithers to my left.  I cut it off with the hook, it jumps back to my right.  Then left again.  Then the snake seems to turn a bright red and makes a final dash to my right.  I get the hook under the snake and flip it up in the air, maybe 10 or 12 feet high, and sail out from under it.  Final sighting was the snake's head popping up out of the river.

A couple more tacks and we're are off of South Creek.  Sails down 11:30, motoring up to a little notch in the creek, anchoring and reanchoring a couple of times in the tree-lined cove to make sure I have good protection from the forecast winds.  Anchor down finally down at 11:50 as rain begins to fall.

Hot tea, lunch and a nap.  Rain comes and goes.  I use the photograph information button on my phone to learn that the stowaway was a Corn Snake, Pantherophis guttatas, a snake that kills small prey by constriction.  Often confused with a copperhead.  I will always wonder, and never know, how long it had been on the boat.

As a reward for having successfully dealt with the serpent, wine is added to the dinner menu.

17.45 NM

day ten - Turnagain Bay

 Wake to a swell coming around the corner, wind is strong and has shifted to the north.  Move up into the little creek where the water is calmer.  

Wind blows and blows and blows.  At least it is sunny.  Reading, napping, cleaning up the boat.

Wind dies down in the afternoon.  Quickly becomes very hot.  Move back out into the river where we get a little breeze.  Standing on the aft deck I can see Dave's mast across the marsh to the south.  Looks like he is sitting tight too.

Light rain in the evening.  Forecast shows heavy rain coming in the next day or so.  Getting low on water, wondering where I will resupply.

ghosts of sailmakers past / this morning

I need a new set of sails, and my sailmaker is gone.  Stuart of Dabbler Sails passed away a few years ago.  So instead I reached out to my long-time friend Stephanie of Evolution Sails in Deltaville.  Last year, when I needed a new jib, she came to the rescue, getting my old jib patched to get me through another cruise and then having a new jib ready before the following sail.  It is good to have friends in the right places.

After the spring sail in North Carolina, I had thought I needed just a new main sail.  Stephanie took mine to the loft for measurements and wrote up a proposal for a new one.  Then on my Father's Day sail, the mizzen tore along the leech seem.  So yes, new sails all around.

 

I asked Stephanie if I could bring my mizzen up to their shop, both to see the loft and to talk with the guys that will make my new sails, and she said of course I could.  

When I drove up their Monday, Jake and Justin dove right in, tacking the mizzen out on the plywood floor and taking countless measurements, more than I could have imaged for a flat three-sided sail. They talked quietly between themselves, pointing out various stitching and batten pockets, reinforced corners and grommets.  Jake had a notebook with graph lined pages, jotting down measurements and notes.  It was fascinating.

Since Stuart's loft was just about 20 miles north of Deltaville, I asked if they knew him.  They said they did.  In fact when making new sails for a tall ship years ago, they hired Stuart to come in and teach them how to make traditional sails.  He was around the loft for a couple weeks, both working on the sails and sharing his skills.  Stuart even made a book for them, sort of a scrapbook with photographs and drawings taped in place, and bits of writing here and there.  To this day, they still use that book as a reference.

After we were done talking about my sails, Stephanie walked me across the loft.  There in the corner were Stuart's sail making bench and some tools.  What caught my eye was the mallet, one Stuart had crafted from a tree branch.  The head of the mallet was wrapped with leather, the same sort of leather he put on the corner's of my sails.  I looked at the mallet, and in my mind pictured Stuart working alone in his loft, using the hand-made maul to tap grommets into place on my sails. I smiled.

It is good to know that Jake and Justin, skilled sailmakers in their own right, carry on with Stuart's tradition.  I look forward to the new sails, and when I use them I will be very glad that they have a direct link with my sailmaker, my friend, Stuart.

-------------------------------

A woman does yoga on the deck of a catamaran.  Another catamaran nearby shows a homeport of Vienna and flies the Austrian flag.  And next to that, a boat from the Netherlands.  I cast off just after 6:00 this morning, excellent wind and comfortable morning temperatures.  Nine cruising boats in Crawford Bay,  six catamarans, three monohulls.  I tacked for a couple hours back and forth across the river.  A few waves from joggers on shore.  A couple of tugs passed by, but otherwise I had the river to myself.  Is there a better way to start the day?  I think not.

day nine - the girl in her pajamas

Distant lightning and thunder in the early morning hours.  Wake to a clear morning, southwest wind.  Sail off anchor at 2.6.  Glance back as I pass the Island Packet to the east, the one that had a woman perched at the bow yesterday, and shake my head in disappointment.  Seeing the name CLARA out of Nantucket, I recalled that I had met that woman a year and a half ago when she and her husband were anchored at Chestertown.  In fact she had sailed with me.  It would have been nice to reconnect.  I find an email from her, send her a quick note asking if my memory was correct.

6:50 making 3.4 past the lighthouse.  7:00 entering Bardens Inlet, wind over the port quarter.  Green marker "13" shows we are catching the last of the flood (helping) tide and I am glad to have the extra nudge to get up to Core Sound.  A huge flock of white ibis flying in a "V" formation head south overhead to Cape Lookout.  

7:50 pass red marker "28" with Harkers Island to the northwest.  8:00 see a distant marker ahead on Core Sound.  There should be more markers between us that that faraway marker, but the are long gone.  

Cool and grey, calmer water in the lee of Harker's Island.  Spray coming aboard, round up to put on bibs and boots.  8:45 warmer, and overcast beginning to break up.  9:00 3.0 to northeast.  9:30 a little more wind with the town of Davis off the port bow.  

10:00 dark clouds to the west and they seem to be coming our way.  Round up to put on the dry suit and tuck two reefs into the main. As I am tying in the reefs, I see the car ferry out of David coming our way.   I call the captain on the vhf to thank him altering his course to pass to the north. "Everything is good," he replies.

10:25 glad to see green marker "33" in place, but he next marker is missing, and the next one after that.  10:30 hear some thunder.  Dark clouds sliding to the north.

10:45 Salters Creek Bridge in sight to the north, making 3.8.  11:10 enter Nelson Bay.  Sky clearing to the north and it is getting hot.  Strip off the dry suit.  Motor sailing in light winds.  More wind and back to sailing at 11:35.  11:50 sails down and under power.  

A local fisherman is coming from the creek.  I flag him down, shout across the water asking about the shallow entrance to the canal.  He throws his engine into reverse, backs up along side SPARTINA.  He asks about my draft, then gives me instructions.  "First of all, ignore the navigation markers.  They are worthless.  Entering the creek you'll see a group of pvc pipes, keep them all to your port.  Once past those markers, look ahead and you'll see another batch of pipes.  Pass through the middle of those pipes and you'll be good."  I thank him for the advice.

12:05 in the creek and under the bridge.  Past the boat ramp we enter the beautiful tree-lined canal.  It is just a great run up the canal, and I text my friend Chris Farr, thanking him for recommending the passage.  

12:55 leaving the canal, 1:05 full sail with a north wind, close-hauled tacking up Long Bay.  About eight tacks, making 4.6 under blue skies.  Great sailing.  

Round the point and fall off for an easy run down Old Canal.   Turn south on Turnagain Bay, tuck up into the little creek on the east side.  Anchor down 3:05.

Boom tent up and relaxing from a great and varied day of sailing.  A motion to stern catches my eye.  I turn around to see Dave in his Capri 18.  We had been tied up near each other a few days earlier in Oriental.  He had tried to sail Core Sound, going from north to south starting at Thorofare Bay.  Not enough markers, too many shoals, he gave up and came back to Turnagain Bay.  We talk for a few minutes, then he heads up Turnagain Bay to anchor for the night.

Evening.  I get a message from CLARA.  Yes, that was the woman who had sailed with me off Chestertown a year and a half earlier.  And she reminded me of a detail I had forgotten.

It was an early morning of Downrigging Weekend.  Tacking back and forth on the river, I passed by CLARA's bow and there was the woman perched up on the bow sprit.  We exchanged greetings.  She mentioned that she and her husband had stopped by my boat at the docks the day before.  So many people there, I had no memory of them.  We talked a bit as I sailed nearby, and I asked if she would like to come on board for a short sail.  She began to say yes, then hesitated.  "But I'm wearing my pajamas!"  I tell her "that's ok."  And she joined me for a brief and pleasant sail.  

She told me in her message that at Cape Lookout she subconsciously recognized me and the boat, but could not recall why she might have known me, or from where.  It was only when I messaged her about Chestertown that she remembered.  

I am disappointed that neither of us made the connection in the bight.

31.15 NM