Cruising The Ditch

716 miles to Boston!

Locks!

The Dismal swamp Canal isn't very dismal at all.

Potluck! People living on boats love veggies, because it's hard to keep them around.

It appears that most cruisers stick to the Intercoastal Waterway (aka ICW, The Ditch, etc) when voyaging longitudinally on the Atlantic.  We were pretty set on not taking the ICW for a variety of reasons, but mainly because we hate listening to our 2-stroke outboard all day.  It works, it moves the boat, it's reliable, but damn it's loud.  However, to go outside from the Chesapeake to Hattaras is a pretty big commitment - about 120 miles without a feasable port - and then you're stuck going in another Inlet of Death.  We decided to forgo that headache and instead head down the Dismal Swamp Canal, part of the ICW.  It looked pretty neat, and despite the engine noise it might be a bit of a break.  Anyway, we had earplugs.

We headed out from our anchorage in Norfolk at around 6 AM so we could make the various bascule bridges and locks in good time.  After motoring through all the industrial sprawl of Norfolk it was a relief to turn onto Deep Creek and find ourselves in the woods, more or less.  We reached the first lock about an hour before its first scheduled opening of the day, so we tied up to a piling, killed the engine, and relaxed.  

Locks are neat.  In the case of those surrounding the Dismal Swamp they first raise a vessel up 9 feet before you proceed the 20 miles down the canal, where the second lock lowers the boat 9 feet onto the river on the other side.  There is a current in the canal, which I'm told the engineers (this is all run by the Army Corps of Engineers) can make run whichever way they want, so they have it go north for half the canal then flip and move south.  We'd read great things about Robert, the operator of the Deep Creek Lock at the north end of the canal, and we weren't disappointed.  He came on the radio and asked us to move into the lock when the door opened.  The lock itself is probably 70 by 40 feet, with huge metal doors that swing out on either side.  We tossed him our dock lines, which he looped over a couple cleats, then he closed the doors and water began rushing in.  The whole area fills up quickly, and it took maybe 4 minutes for us to be at the top of the lock.  We drew in line as we rose up to hold ourselves against the wooden fenders that lined the sides.  Once at the top, Robert asked us if we had any questions, then gave us a thorough overview of the Dismal Swamp Canal.  Then he invited us into the office for coffee and donuts.  What a guy!  After insisting that we polish off the danish he'd cut up for us, he told me to take some yogurt from the fridge because he's "a man, and doesn't eat that stuff."  I asked him if they'd made yogurt for men yet, and he told me they hadn't.  As we pushed off from the wall to proceed into the canal he gave us some good advice:  don't plan your day past lunch, and never be afraid to venture up river to a small town off the waterway because they'll treat you real nice.  Seriously, Robert was rad, whatever his feelings about yogurt.

Right after the lock there is a scary metal dock, which we gingerly tied up to so we could walk the 100 yards to the gas station and not have to worry about fuel the rest of the day.  We also bought a watermelon from a guy selling them from his truck.  I seriously had only good impressions from everyone I met in Virginia.  Go figure.

Once underway, we had a very straight, very pretty motor for the next 20 miles.  Despite the engine noise it was pretty relaxing, and we took solar showers on the trampoline.  There were turtles everywhere!  At one point I saw something in the water and thought, "a hippopotamus!"  But then I remembered that hippopotamus are imaginary, like leprechauns and eskimos.*  Anyway, it turned out to just be two geese.  I also saw an enormous rattlesnake swimming down the canal.  yikes.

We passed out of Virginia and into North Carolina, 5 miles later coming to the second lock.  This lockmaster was not nearly so friendly as Robert.  Given the hour of the day I was expecting espresso and biscotti, but all we got was a friendly hello and the comment that he'd never seen a green sailboat before.  

Once outside the lock our passage became a little more what we'd expected from the Great Dismal Swamp.  It was wider, windier, and generally more swamp-like.  By this point we had 16 miles left to Elizabeth City and we had both grown weary of the engine noise.  We took turns doing yoga on the bow and ate our watermelon.  

Elizabeth City is known as the "Harbor of Hospitality" or something like that, and there is a free dock and supposedly some shuttle that runs downtown.  Well, the free dock we found, and gratefully saw that there was a slip wide enough to accomodate our big girl.  A younger guy from a neighboring boat helped us tie off, as did a much older man who appeared to just be hanging out.  After a few minutes of conversation the younger guy returned to his boat to work on whatever project was occupying him, and the older man talked to us.  And talked to us.  And it just went on and on, like Grandpa on The Simpsons.  He was retired and came down to the dock everyday to be hospitable.  He was so nice, and he said some really interesting things (I haven't been able to verify this, but he said he was the NC Lieutenant Governor or something at one point, and met with MLK and worked with the civil rights movement?  And MLK gave him an honorary membership to the NAACP?  Which is amazing and rad if it's true!  But.)  Well, we were exhausted from our day of motoring and were baking in the sun, so finally I said we had to go get some food or something and took our leave. 

There isn't really anything going on in Elizabeth City.  We wandered around downtown for a bit and nothing was open and there weren't really any people.  I was just looking for a place to get a beer or something and it took 25 minutes of walking aroudn to come across anything.  At one point we walked by what I took to be a senior center just as one old guy walked up to another who was sitting on the bench out front.  The one sitting on the bench said, "You know what's wrong with this town?" "What?" the other replied.  "There's nothing but old folks!" the first said.  

Cody was getting tired and hangry (hungry + angry) when I finally found us a little diner to get beer and food.  I had a nice local IPA and a quesadilla and Cody had a burger and a PBR or something.  As we were getting ready to ask for our check the waitress came over and told us that the man at the end of the bar who'd just left had bought our dinner, as well as the other two couples in the restaurant.  He didn't want her to tell us until he'd left.  What a guy.

Anyway, we headed back for the boat and had a beer and chatted with the young couple docked next to us and the family they were travelling with, who it turns out were from Boston!  Then we crashed.  

The next morning we were sitting in the cabin drinking coffee when someone said, "Hey there, young man!" and started talking to Cody from the shore.  I won't get into all the details of his rambling, but let's just say that I'm surprised he didn't ask us if we wanted to contribute to The War Against Northern Aggression.**  He went on sympathizing with Donald Sterling and said, "y'all are yankees, aren't ya?"  Then he told us how good the Hardy's was for breakfast.  Then he said that there was a "black midget who always wear's a patriots cap" who we'd really like.  You can't make this shit up.  Well, once again I realized if we were going to get out of this conversation gracefully we'd have to abandon ship, so we put on our running shoes and stepped off the boat for a run.  "Y'all going jogging or something?" he asked.  "Yep."  "Well, that's all right I guess," he replied.  Whew.  Well, we had a nice run anyway, then got back to the boat and made breakfast in peace.  I was told later by a fellow cruiser that, "You are in the South, and the South will rise again."  So it would seem.

We spent the day wandering around Elizabeth City in search of groceries and other provisions (we're on a quest to find a collapsable 5 gallon water jug but have been striking out wherever we go).  Then we did laundry (or, Cody did landry and I laid down in the boat for a little while), and I got the key code for the shower there (you have to pay 5 dollars for the code but the girl nextdoor gave me the one they had given her) and I got my first hot shower of the trip.  We had been invited to a cruisers potluck that night!  I was extremely excited, because it's sort of a thing and it meant we were real cruisers! I made a salad, and we all sat on the grass beside the harbor and enjoyed food and conversation.  It was very nice.  Then we showed our neighbors the boat and they showed us theirs.  Nothing like touring a boat with a nice large cabin to realize just how undersized Tri-oomph is for longterm cruising.  We love her, of course, but man, head room.

Anyway, everyone was taking off the next day - us heading south, the others north into the Great Dismal Swamp.  Onward!

*Bonus points for The Simpsons reference.
**Bonus points for MST3K reference.

Tornados and pelicans and aircraft carriers, oh my!

After a windy and rainy night in Chincoteague Bay we pulled up anchor and motored out towards the Chincoteague Inlet.  It was Thursday and our goal was to be in Norfolk by Friday night.  After motoring through the town of Chincoteague, under their cut-bridge and around another couple rusted old fishing boats sinking into the water, we emerged from the inlet and found ourselves another windless day.  Sadly, we'd failed to fuel up before leaving Chincoteague.  We motored when we started going backward and sailed if we could hold 3 knots.  It turned out to be a really nice day - our first really warm day on the water, actually.  We were headed for the Machipongo Inlet, and as we sailed over the shallow waters approaching it we saw numerous dolphins doing their dolphin thing.  

After cruising around just inside the mouth of the inlet with our depth-sounder on, looking for a sheltered location that wouldn't leave us high and dry when the tide went out.  We found one that was a nice compromise, and threw out the anchor.  We also threw our second anchor out to hold our stern out of the channel.  I went inside and turned on the VHF to listen to the weather report.  Blasting in on every channel was a severe weather alart.  Severe tunderstorms with the potential for dime size hail, damaging winds, and potential tornados.

Let me tell you something about the Machipongo Inlet area - it's in the middle of nowhere.  About 13 miles from any road, no houses, no nothing.  Nothing between us and the Atlantic except a narrow strip of sand.  Not where you'd want to be in a tornado.

I pulled up the radar and watched it obsessively while Cody fastened everything down and put away stuff that would blow away.  The weather alert was only until 8 o'clock and it was already 7, so it wasn't like this could go on indefinitely.  There were ominous black clouds swirling around us to the north and west.  After a little while we saw a larger sailboat pull into the inlet and just sort of motor around.  It was pretty shallow if you left the main channel so there weren't many places for him to go.  We saw his jib begin to unfurl, and then the storm hit.  

It was crazy.  It went from a fairly calm evening to some sort of scene from some hollywood movie where climate change causes a sudden and catostrophic global superstorm.  We sat huddled in our boat, unable to see anything outisde the windows for the mist and downpour.  The winds were 40-60 mph, and it pushed our boat ever so slightly.  You culd feel it shift, but unable to see anything through the windows it was impossible to tell what was really going on.  We were worried about the other boat out there, and left our radio on in case he needed help.  Not that we'd be able to do anything, but there was no one else around.  

And, just like it started, it was over.  It had lasted about 10 minutes.  It's not hyperbole to say that it was probably the scariest 10 minutes of my life.  Cody wasn't worried, for what t's worth, which is one of the advantages of having less imagination.  Sometimes being firmly rooted in reality is a boon.  

The other boat seemed fine.  He appeared to have just motored into the wind.  We couldn't figure out why his jib was still partly unfurled, but it probably was accidental.  He dropped anchor but was gone before we left in the morning.  Our stern anchor had dragged, but the bow line hadn't, so we had pivoted around the bow, being pushed towards the beach.  All in all, there are worse places to be pushed.

I actually slept pretty well that night, surprisingly.  We awoke to strong winds and a small craft advisory in the morning.  I was still a little traumatized so we decided to just hang out and relax, then head out midmorning.  Unfortunately, when we tried to motor out, we found ourselves aground.  The water was just shallow enough that our skeg was hitting the sand.  We were in a deep pocket, but around us were sandbars that wouldn't let us move forward.  Concerned about our lack of fuel,I suggested that, rather than trying to motor through the sand, we get off and try to push her out.  The water, happily, was very warm.  It took about 15 minutes of pushing, trying different angles, dragging with the anchor line, but we got her free!  As it would turn out, it wasn't a minute too soon.  

We were headed for Chesapeake Bay, and the wind was ripping.  We were averaging 7-9 knots, which feels  pretty fast.  We got just south of Cape Charles and turned west to head towards the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, when the wind started to die.  We made it within about a mile of the bridge before we had to get the motor going.  We were down to about 2 gallons of gas, and it was 11 miles from the other side ofthe bridge to the nearest marina, so we were starting to get a little worried.  

The bridge is pretty amazing.  Cody says it's one of the 7 engineering marvels of the world or something.  It consists of huge tunnels that take traffic under the bay and bridges that connect the tunnels. This allows for all the big ships that need to go up the Chesapeake - rather than build a huge tall bridge, the ships just go over the tunnels.  More than the bridge, however, I was impressed by the pelicans.  Pelicans are huge!  They look like dinosaurs, and the way they dive straight into the water for fish is amazing.  There were tons of them on the Chesapeake.  

Well, we got over the tunnel and the wind sucked, so we started to motor.  Then the wind picked up, and we were able to sail for about 4 miles.  We got within 4 miles of the entrance to the harbor and then felt safe with the amount of gas we had left to motor the rest of the way in.  

Remember how I told you we got going in just the knick of time that morning?  Well, imagine if we'd waited an hour, and the wind had died even sooner?  We'd almost certainly run out of gas.  As it was, we pulled up to the fuel dock just a few minutes before they closed for the day.  The guy working there seemed distracted and he told us someone was on his way in with a big motor yacht needing 80 gallons of fuel when he'd run out across the harbor.  We offered to bring him a couple gallons so he could make it in.  He was really appreciative and told us he'd give us a discount if we did.  Well, we were unable to find the stranded boat, so we went back to the fuel dock to get better directions.  Another guy had just pulled up on a jetski and he offered to bring the stranded boat fuel, and he could do it much quicker than us.  The fuel dock guy ended up giving us our gas for free even though we didn't really do anything, calling it the "good karma" discount.  

Fully fueled, we set of towards Norfolk.  It ended up being about 10 more miles of motoring, and we went right past the naval base there.  I drove the boat so Cody could get out the binoculars and look at all the mind-numbingly huge aircraft carriers and warships and stuff.  It was all pretty impressive, really, and there was just so much of it.  

We had heard that there was a free town dock in Portsmouth, just on the other side of the river from Norfolk, but when we arrived we saw that there was no overnight dockage.  We knew there was a nice place to anchor nearby, though, so we decided to dock the boat and walk to get some dinner.  It had been a long day, it was late, and we were starving.  We walked towards downtown, looking at the menues of a couple restaurants.  A guy in period dress, who I just assumed was crazy, came up and asked us, in a fake English accent, if we were looking for anything he could help us with.  Well, how about a nice place to get dinner?  He showed us down the road to a great restaurant with great prices, then asked us if we were coming to the Blackbeard Festival the next week.  Ah!  That explained the period dress!  (We'd actually wanted to go to the Festival, but the timing hadn't worked out.)

We had a very nice dinner (right up there with those amazing meals that so stand out in my mind) and as we were paying I asked our waitress if there was a place nearby to get ice.  She directed us to a 7-11 a few blocks away, then came back a couple minutes later and said, "You know, we don't want you to walk down there, it's not a good part of town, do you want a bag of ice from our ice machine?"   Everyone we met in Portsmouth/Norfolk was very, very nice.

We made it back to the boat, bag of ice in hand, then motored to the anchorage and got settled for the night.  The next day we were going Intercoastal!

Catch up!

So, I'm really behind.  But guess what?  We found a bluetooth keyboard today for $20 at some southern approximation of Marshalls, so I can type up a proverbial storm.  Literal storms need not apply.

I just need to back up, I think.

When last I left you we were at anchor in Cape May, NJ.  After our long sail over from Long Island we were eager for a break.  After we anchored and sort of bathed, we started in on the daily topic of dinner (my favorite subject, next to breakfast, lunch, and snacks) and the refrain was typical.  "What do you want to eat?"  "I dunno, what do you want to eat?"  Sounds familiar, right?  Anyway, we decided to go out, because then we could get ice cream.

Now, I don't know about you, but I remember certain meals from my lifetime as exceptional.  And, while many of them have been very fine meals at nice restaurants (my first dinner in Paris with my dad) or cooked by someone (probably my mom, you just can't beat your own mom's cooking), many of them are fairly ordinary meals eaten after a period of physical distress.  For example, the  cheese enchiladas I ordered in Tahoe City after 10 days on the Tahoe Rim Trail stand out with bold clarity from my memory (what is that magical quality that melting imbues on cheese?  I've been considering that question a lot, lately).  At any rate, we went to a little ice cream shop that also served food (typical of that kind of establishment) and I ordered the Texas Burger with a veggie patty (yay!) and it was freaking life-changing.  All I've wanted to do since is cover things in BBQ sauce, grilled onions, pepperjack, and hot peppers.  And all right, we clearly weren't in a state of deprivation or physical distress while making or long passage from NY, but something about being out of site of  land in a 23 foot trimaran makes you really grateful for your next meal, believe me.

Anyway, after our dinner we got ice cream (duh), then picked up a bag of ice and waddled back to the boat.  We crashed out cold and started the long process of getting caught up on sleep.

The next day we rented beach crusiers for $10 each for the whole day and explored Cape May.  First we wandered downtown, then rode the 5 miles to the lighthouse.  The lighthouse cost money to climb, unacceptable cost/reward ratio on a cruisers' budget, so we just wandered around looking at the migratory bird sanctuary that was in the surrounding acrage.  There are a ton of osprey down there!  In Essex there are these two osprey that nest behind Farnham's and it's such a big deal that they have a live-streaming website of the nest-cam.  So when you get down further south and every single fixed channel marker has a big osprey nest on top of it you first get really excited, then sort of let down.  It's like seeing bald eagles in Alaska.  At first it's super cool and unique, and then you see two dozen of them roosting in a tree and say, "dammit, Bald Eagles, I want to be excited about each and every one of you and here you are being all common and hanging out in a tree."  Well I didn't meant to talk about the osprey so much....

Anyway, we had a nice day exploring Cape May, then we got a late lunch, went grocery shopping, returned the cruisers, and walked back to the boat.  We walked along the beach for most of it and there were hella dolphins.  Seeing dolphins never gets less cool.

The next day we got up early to continue our journey south in search of warmer waters.  We had great wind for the first couple hours, then it totally deserted us.  We decided to just go slow and wait for it to pick back up, and while we waited I did a little fishing.  We had dragged a line on occasion but hadn't yet caught anything.  Well, that was about to change.  I got a bite.  While drinking a beer at a restaurant in Cape May we had dazedly watched some fishing program, so luckily I'd seen the proper way to reel in a fish.  Sure enough, I reeled in a 16 inch blue fish.  Huge.  Anyway, I felt really bad for the fish and was actually sort of horrified and stricken, so Cody threw it back.  He promised that the fish would be OK.  All in all it was sort of traumatic.

Finally we realized we were actually going backwards, so we fired up the motor and just motored on our course for a while.  We were low on fuel so we went in at Ocean City, NJ.  Ocean City is described by the cruising guide as a "little Las Vegas."  I think only someone who's never been to Vegas, or, for that matter, seen a picture of it, or watched NCIS Las Vegas, or even heard a remotely apt description, would describe Ocean City like that.  Sure, there's some casinos and  bigger hotels (by NJ shoreline standards), but it really stood out to me as a sort of run down fishing town.  I live in a fishing town, and I never thought of it as particularly glamorous, but relative to the other fishing communities we've passed through Gloucester is freaking Paris.  I've seen more old fishing vessels literally rusting back into the ocean in the last few weeks than I would have ever imagined.  Like, why do they just leave them there?

We briefly considered staying in Ocean City for the night, but the concensus was that it "sucked".  Trouble was, it was already mid-afternoon and the next inlet past Ocean City was another 30 miles south.  And that would probably be 30 miles of listening to that damn outboard.  Ugh.  So we decided to go into the Chincoteague Bay.  We'd probably be motoring, but at least we weren't commiting ourselves to 30 more miles of it.

Now, going from Ocean City into Chincoteague requires one to pass under a fixed bridge with a vertical clearance of 35 feet.  In anticipation of possibly going this route we measured our mast and our drop to the water - 34.5 feet, not including our antenna, but providing clearance for our running light and windex.  Breaths were held as we approached the bridge with the engine in neutral, ready to throw it into reverse at the last moment if something appeared too close for comfort.  And, let me tell you, we made it under, antenna and all, with about 3 inches to spare (vertical clearance measurements are usually taken at high tide, so if it's low tide you have a little buffer).  We breathed a collective sigh of relief and exchanged shaky high-fives as we passed through with our mast still erect.

Once into the bay we were able to raise our sails for an hour or so and skim over the shoals.  We found a nice little bay (bay within a bay? yes) to tuck into for the night and cooked (I cooked) a nice dinner.

Okay, I know I'm super behind with the blog updates, so rather than write one huge long one that no one will read, I'm going to break it up.  This is part 1.  To be continued . . . .

Yay!  A lighthouse!  Really, though, why are lighthouses such big tourist things?  I mean, they're cool and all, but . . .

Cruising through Cape May!

Shipwreck in Ocean City.  Classy.

Cody demonstrates just how close we were to hitting our mast on that bridge behind us. Or maybe he's passing an imaginary football, it's hard to say.

I got back on the proverbial horse, and did a little fishig in Chincoteague Bay.  I like everything about fishing except the driving of a pointy piece of metal through an animal's face.  And probably killing it, but we haven't gotten that far yet.

Long Haul

Saturday, May 17

21:00 - go to bed, safely docked at the Windswept Marina on Long Island.

21:05- wedding reception at the restaurant next door really starts rolling.

21:20 -  earplugs, check. Cody declines.

21:30 - Cody asks me for earplugs.

Sunday, May 18

03:00 - first alarm, goes unnoticed.

03:05 - second alarm, wakes me up, Cody sleeps on.

03:10 - I tell Cody it's time to get up.

03:15-03:30 - dress in all the layers, making a thermos of coffee, pack up the cabin, re-check the marine forecast. Looks good.

03:40 - push off from dock, don't hit anyone else's boat.

03:45-04:00 - motor under a bright moon to the Moriches Inlet (of doom*).

04:01-04:12 - get the s$&@ beat out of ourselves and our boat by 10 foot waves breaking over 2 foot shoals. Briefly become entirely convinced that I'm going to die in Long Island. 

04:13 - cogratulate each other on being alive.

04:30 - set sails.

04:35 - go back to bed (while Cody sails the boat), setting alarm for 07:00.

04:35-06:50 - ???

06:50 - wake up before alarm. Get coffee.

07:00 - cook hobo eggs. Get lucky double yoke.

07:20 - take over the helm from Cody and send him to nap.

07:20-08:00 - lovely calm sail (about 4-5 knots) while Cody tried to nap.

08:00 - Cody decides he can't sleep, comes out and starts fiddling with things.

09:00 - enter first NY shipping lane. See no boats.

10:30 - have to power up the motor to get around (behind) a 600 foot container ship from Panama, the only such encounter we would have in the entirety of the NY shipping lanes.

11:00 - Cody takes over the helm, I go to bed.

11:05-12:00 - ???

12:00 - wake up, hungry, burrito.

12:00-14:00 - ??? umm, maybe a little fishing or something???

14:00-17:00 - on watch, Cody passed out cold. Had a hard time holding our 240 heading, headed further south to make headway. Not a lot of wind, about 4 kts.

17:00 - Cody took over watch, I made dinner. (Pasta with kale, garlic, olive oil, tomatoes and Parmesan, it was fantastic.) We decided that since we wouldn't be arriving in our destination port (Little Egg, NJ) until 3:00 AM due to the unfavorable wind, we might as well sail through the night to Cape May, our first planned destination.

17:00-21:00 - tried to sleep, no go. Seas got choppy when Cody tacked to the Northwest.

21:00 - alarm went off, my turn at the helm. Went out on deck in the dark and the cold and with the sea monsters** and completely lost my shit. Told Cody I didn't want to be alone on deck in the dark. Still 4-5 hrs from any possible port.

Cody offered to stay awake and sail all night. I said,"that's not fair though!" And he said, "well, was it fair for me to drag you out to sea?"  So I stayed on deck with Cody until midnight, while the wind shifed to the North and we were able to get on a more direct heading. Then I went to bed, after asking Cody to clip onto a safety line for the duration of the night.

Monday, May 19

24:00-04:00 - slept a bit.

04:00 - alarm went off, Cody said he was good for another hour and to go back to bed.

04:00-05:00 - slept. Had crazy vivid dreams all involving wind.

05:00 - second alarm. Time to get up. Cody was talking sort of silly. Sleep deprivation. Sun was just starting to rise, we were 10 miles east of Atlantic City. Made coffee. Took the helm. 

05:00-11:00 - sailed down to Cape May (about 47 miles from Atlantic City). Saw 3 dolphins not 10 feet from Tri-oomph, again completely lost my shit, started waxing philosophical (again, sleep deprivation). Saw an enormous sunfish (70+ lbs!) sunning not 2 feet from Tri-oomph. Might have thought it was a shark at first. Might have been the most magical morning of my life - sunshine, smooth seas, and dolphins.

11:00 - I get the motor going because the wind died and we're going a knot. Cody wake up and we eat oatmeal and motorsail the final 5 miles to the Cape May Inlet. See so many flipping dolphins. Every time is magic.

12:00 - arrive in Cape May, find a private anchorage because the big boats have to anchor in deep waters.

12:00-16:00 - lay around in the cabin. Watch the new Startrek movie.

16:00 - take (not fully nude) showers on deck. Hope no one calls the cops. 

17:00 - wine. Relax. Exhausted.

*Everyone we talked to in Moriches wanted to tell us how their inlet is so deadly, in fact "America's 7th Most Dangerous Inlet!" We think it's probably because people from NY who don't understand what breaking waves mean drink too much then try to fish it.

**There are so sea monsters!

I promise I've been putting sunscreen on my face, I think it's windburn.

First Installment

Well, here we are! Docked in East Moriches, NY, out on Long Island.  We've been out for 5 days, now, and we're still alive and no one has filed divorce papers yet.  But I should start at the beginning.

The last week before we left was sort of an insane stumble towards getting our house packed up and finishing touches on the boat.  Also, long, emotional conversations with my dog about how we are coming back and we love him and he's a good dog. It was a stressful week, and we didn't leave on May 10, our scheduled departure.  We were determined to leave on Sunday, and we did! After breakfast with Cody's mom (it was mother's day after all), a trip to the grocery store to provision the boat (I perhaps went overboard, so to speak), and much shuttling around and dropping off of cats and pet supplies (for which I am so incredibly grateful to Elise and Tucker!!!) we finally got going at 2:30 in the afternoon.

The timing was actually pretty important, because we has to go through the cut bridge in Gloucester, and we can only do that on an outgoing or slack tide.  As it was we barely made it, and then we were free to set sail and really begin our voyage.

Once we'd set the main and the jib we got caught by a big gust and I was like, no, it's too soon for that.  First we were going to reef the main but then we "disagreed" about how to go about it. Lesson 1: practice sail changes before you need to use them.  So we sailed onto the jib alone all the way to . . .Magnolia! Magnolia is part of Gloucester, you see, so it is pretty anticlimactic.  But the point is we were out and there was no going back.  We dropped anchor and it was a little choppy, so I promptly got a little sea sick while I was getting the cabin organized. Ugh, too soon for that to.  I took some Dramamine and a nap while Cody cooked dinner, then we passed out after an extremely long day.

The next morning we really began our trip (for real this time) hoping to make it down near the Cape Cod Canal. Taking the canal instead of going around the cape cuts a couple hundred miles off, and we can sail the cape anytime.  As it turned out the wind wasn't in our favor as it was coming out of the very direction we needed to go. We cut towards Providencetown, then back to the southwest. The seas built to 3-5 feet and we had a pretty choppy end to an otherwise smooth day, sailing in on a fully reefed main and the jib.  We ended up in a little inlet between Scituate and Plymouth.  We got inearlyenough to hang out and do some stretching before dinner. Unfortunately, it would become apparent that we had anchored in a crazy vortex of doom. Between the wind and the tide there were some wild currents pulling us around.  Eventually we moved onto an empty mooring (I'm perplexed why someone would knowingly moor their boat in a Vortex of Doom) but then the current caused the mooring ball to bang against the hull while we tried to sleep. Cody went out to fix it meanwhile I laid awake worrying that he'd been sucked into the Vortex. At any rate, we didn't get a ton of sleep in there.

We set our alarms for 6 the next morning to set out for the canal. We just rolled out of bed and got moving, with the intention of getting coffee and breakfast underway.  A cold front had blown in from the Northeast overnight, and we were greeted (pre-coffee, mind you) by 6-8 foot seas competing with an outgoing tide. Lesson 2: check the weather report in the morning beforesetting out, sometimes it changes overnight. In the hours since we'd last checked they had issued a small craft advisory.  We motored north for an hour so we could sail southeast to the canal as efficiently as possible. Setting sail in 6-8 foot seas on our boat is, well, challenging. (If anyone wants to get us an early Christmas present we could use a Stoway mast and a rolling job furler. Thanks, that would be great.) I managed to get the main set while not falling off the boat or completely losing my shit.  I realize 6-8 foot seas ain't no big deal, but it was a first for me and was definitely, well, a little harrowing.  A few thoughts on that experience:
1: at some point while I was hanging onto the mast for dear life I though, "dammit, I could be anywhere else but here right now. I could be riding my bike, or taking summer courses to finish 
school sooner, or running, or anything! ... But. I guess I'd still rather be here. I'm a 
f$&;ing idiot."
2: for some reason I had Zoot Suit Riot in my head the whole time.

Go figure, huh?

3: we worked very effectively, and I think Cody was pleasantly surprised that I handled the conditions so well. But that competence I displayed was fueled almost entirely by hatred and rage. I do my best work so fueled. You know, just general, undirected hatred and rage.

Anyway, at some point Cody decided he wanted coffee and I felt sick every time I took my eyes off the horizon, so for a while I took the helm and Cody made himself coffee. I popped Saltines and Dramamine, and managed to not be incapacitated.

We prevailed against the conditions and ended up about a half mile from the canal with 2 hours left before the tide turned in our favor and with a big freighter heading toward the canal.  We effectively heaved-to in the rough seas to allow the freighter to pass, then decided to test our motor against the current. And we killed it! Getting through the canal was so easy and quick.

Once on flat water I managed to finally eat, then we caught a sweet north wind down Buzzards Bay on a sweet 8kt run. We decided to spend the night in Mattapoisett, but we were having so much fun that we got distracted and overshot the harbor, then had to motor back. But it's still the offseason up North so the Mattapoisett harbor master gave us a mooring for the night, and we went ashore to refuel and pick up beer (of course). I think I got dehydrated that morning in the rough stuff so it was another early evening.

On Wednesday our destination was Block Island, but we had a late start after a relaxing morning in Mattapoisett. There wasn't any wind to speak of on Buzzards Bay so we motored clear of the islands and it picked up nicely. We were on a single tack for the next 6 hours but the fog rolled in for the last few.  We were crossing the shipping lanes that run into Providence so we kept blowing the fog horn, but we never saw or heard another boat. I cooked dinner on the boat while we finished the voyage - lentil and veggie soup, beets, and garlic bread. The fog was freezing and the hot soup was oh so good.  As we neared Old Harbot where we intended to spend the night the fog thickened further. We were watching out for a breakwater shown on the chart, a channel marker, and the high speed ferry line that runs to Block Island. All I can say is that we were so happy to have the iPad Ross and Nancy gave us for Christmas with our awesome iNavX navigation program. Just as I said that the breakwater should be right ahead so us, Cody said, "I see rocks!" We were able to navigate into Old Harbor without a hitch. 

There was a big ferry at the dock, but very few boats in the tiny harbor. We snagged someone's mooring since the holding was a little dicy, and there was no one around. It was super spooky in the fog. You could see the outlines of buildings but not what they were, and there was a shadowy figure watching from land. I told Cody that the ferry was probably a ghost ferry that went down years ago but appears to wayward sailors on nights like this. I possibly may have an overactice imagination. At any rate, it was some of the calmest water we've slept on, and you could have forgotten you were even on a boat. It would have been a great night for sleeping except for the karaoke bar on the ferry blaring Celine Dion until midnight. Really, who plays the theme from titanic on a boat? Seems like you're asking for trouble.

We set our alarm for 4 the next morning, but when it went off I started whining about karaoke keeping me up and Cody reset it for 5. After coffee, breakfast, and the latest weather report (we learn sometimes) we set out for Long Island. This day was our test to see how far we can get on a long day so we can plan our leg across to NJ, which will be 70-80 miles. We tried working in 2 hour watches, so the person not in watch could relax or take a nap. It worked well, and that nap was quite needed. It was a bit foggy again. Not so bad as to impair visibility, but enough to deal a blow to moral. It's amazing how moods can change when the sun starts shining.

We approached Moriches Inlet slowly, as the map showed 3 foot shoaling. With out centerboard up we only draw 3 feet, though, so we were able to get by with no problem. We followed the channel markers up to Tuthill Cove, looking for an anchorage. The whole area was incredibly shallow, and there's no way we could have made it in with a fixed keel. We decided we should get a bite at the restaurant, which has a dock, and inquire about good anchorages in the cove. We performed a disgracefully inept docking, then headed inside. Of course, everyone at the bar had watched us fumble around at the dock and had something to day about it. You just can't go by Tri-oomph without noticing her.  

A couple at the bar moved over for us to sit down and we stared chatting. We asked about anchoring and the guy said, "you don't want to be out there in that wknd. Just tie up to the fuel dock and when the dock master, John, shows up in the morning, tell him Ken said it was okay." Well, it turned out that Ken was a dock builder and had built the docks at that marina. So after a good dinner and conversation, we did as instructed and got a great night of rest tied to the fuel dock. When John showed up in the morning we talked to him and he was so accommodating. He found us a slip for the next couple nights and gave us a bag of ice. Then he offered to drive us to town when we said we were going to walk in for some errands. Well, we really needed the exercise so we declined the ride, but what a nice guy. Lesson 3: sit at the bar to meet people.

Walk into town we did, about 2 miles to the laundromat (I am so excited for clean dry clothes!) and another mile to the grocery store. 6 miles of walking felt amazing after 4+ days of sitting.  We got back to the boat as John was leaving for the day, and he told us we could sleep in the office if we wanted, because it was supposed to pour overnight. We assured him we were fine. He left, then came back 5 minutes later bearing Marina t-shirts and Labat Blue. What a guy.

We manage to bath, sort of. Cody took a cool shower on the trampoline as the solar shower never really heated up.i managed to wash my entire person, hair included, in the sink of the marina restroom. No small feat, believe me.

We were getting settled in for the night when someone walked up to the dock. It was our friend Ken from the night before, telling us to come to the restaurant and he'd buy us dinner. We'd already eaten, but we went down for a beer. Everyone wanted to talk about our boat and they all seemed to think we were nuts to go out on such a small boat. But they also thought we were rad for embarking on such an adventure. 

Too many beers later we passed out on our boat just as the weather hit. The wind was howling and it probably poured 3 inches overnight. We discovered a leak in the roof (over Cody's side) that we'll try to fix today.

What's next? The seas are still a little rough today and there is a small craft advisory until tonight, so we plan to leave early tomorrow morning. Like, 3 AM. We're hoping to passage to Little Egg Inlet,100 miles from here in New Jersey. If we hold 6 knots that's 17 hours. When we first set out our running lights weren't working so we couldn't sail at night safely, but Cody fixed that problem yesterday (without having to haul me up the mast, wonderfully) so we are okay if we don't make it in daylight. From Little Egg it's just 50 miles to Cape May, our first planned layover. 

We're doing really well, apart from cursing the cold North Atlantic weather. I'd be lying if I said we hadn't frequently lamented our decision to not trailer the boat to warmer waters before embarking. We've worn lots of layers plus our Grundens and boots every day we've been on the water. It's really cold, and our little boat gets really wet in even 4 foot seas. But it's all an adventure and a learning experience. We've eaten really well on board and, apart from the lack of exercise and a permanent hunch to our backs from trying to stand in the cabin, we're feeling good.

I've mostly been taking pictures on the nice camera my dad gave me, and I'm writing this with my iPhone (I shit you not) so the pictures are a little limited. Here's a few.