The conditions were looking favorable for a long sail to Cape Fear (side note: neither Cody or Aaron have seen Cape Fear. You know, the original, with Gregory Peck and Robert Mitchum. The scary one. I think that watching the movie makes the whole thing sound much scarier. I mean, I didn't even know Cape Fear was a real place until like, 3 months ago). It was about 90 miles, and it looked like we would have a 10-15 knot Northwest wind and 2-4 foot seas. It would end up being an all-night sail, but Aaron had specifically wanted to do some night sailing. While still not particularly excited about night sailing, I figured the conditions were right and Aaron would be able to keep Cody company so I could just sleep. We left around one with conditions looking perfect, but as the day wore on and we moved further offshore the winds and seas increased beyond what we'd expected. Still, we were heading downwind so it wasn't too bad. I sailed for a bit in the afternoon, then let the guys take over while I went down below to cook a dinner of chili and coleslaw. Well, between the bigger waves and too much time below deck and already feeling somewhat fatigued I ended up feeling a little seasick. I skipped dinner and crawled into the v-berth to try to give my brain a break.
I ddn't sleep, but just laying as still as possible allowed my nausea to dissipate. Of course, I also swallowed a couple Dramamine, and Aaron gave me his Sea-bands to wear because he was feeling fine. As I was laying there I haerd some commotion on deck and Aaron shouted down, "Cody caught a fish!" Cody had been talking to some guys in a fishing shop about how to trawl off the boat and they'd set him up with a squid lure and some thicker line. He'd been concerned that we were moving too quickly to trawl, but the experts assured him that they run lines at 7 knots. It would appear that they were right, because Cody pulled up a pretty big bluefin tuna. It was actually a gorgeous animal, and it sort of bummed me out, but that's me.
Not long after Cody came into the cabin to make a thermos of coffee for the long night ahead, while Aaron deftly navigated the boat in the 6 foot swells. Now, Cody's the kind of guy who'll hammer his finger, grunt, and keep on working. I've seen him take spills on his bike that have left him bloody and bruised, and get right back up and keep riding. He's a tough guy, is what I'm saying. Well, he had his hand on top of the coffee maker (pour over-style) to keep it from moving around in the rough seas, but we caught a wave funny and the thermos slid out from under it, causing the boiling water and coffee grounds to stream out over his hand. I was still huddled in the v-berth and I heard him hollar in such a way that I could tell he'd hurt himself pretty badly. Still incapacitated with seasickness, however, I could only tell him to leave the mess for the morning and make sure he got some ice on it. I'd packed a couple really good first aid kits (one for the boat, one for the ditch bag) and we had several chemical ice packs. After very little fuss, he was back out on deck.
As it was getting dark I heard Aaron say something about feeling a little unwell, but that he wasn't sure if it was from the seas or just nerves from sailing at night (sailing at night is unnerving at the best of times, and downright alarming when you're moving through 6 foot waves at 9 knots on a 23 foot boat). I crawled up and gave him back his seabands, took one look around and went back down below. It would seem that the seabands didn't reach him soon enough, however, because around midnight he becamee somewhat incapacitated. I'd been trying to convince myself to get up and be a functional member of the team, so at that point I came up and traded places with Aaron. Despite my conviction that I'd be sleeping through the night I ended up sitting on deck trying to entertain Cody from midnight until we arrived the next morning.
As one navigates around Cape Fear there is a 30 mile long shoal that extends into the Atlantic, known as the Frying Pan Shoal.. At the end of the shoal is a former Coast Guard light station that sits 50 feet above the waterline. This structure is known as the Frying Pan. Reportedly, during larger storms the waves break over the top of the building. Wrap your head around that. Anyway, now it's been converted into a bed and breakfast. Go figure. Larger boats always go out around the shoal or they'll risk running aground on the sand bars that, in some places, leave just 4 feet of water. 6 foot swells in 4 feet of water do not a successful sailing trip make. By this point the seas had subsided ssomewhat and the wind quieted, so we were looking at 4 foot seas and 6 knot speeds. Additionally, we'd picked a place to cross the shoal where the chart (well, one of them, anyway) promised 7-8 foot depths. Tension was already running high from the rough night as we began the 3 mile traverse, and I'm pretty sure I didn't breath until we were clear. Our passage was incident free, although waves could be heard breaking not far from where we sat.
From here we turned north and hauled in the sails, our speed once again ramping up to 7 knots. 7 knots on no sleep is stressful. But the sun was beginning to show on the horizon and we were only a couple miles from our destination at Bald Head Island, the body of land that constitutes Cape Fear. Aaron came back on deck feeling much better after a couple hours of shut-eye. We turned into the channnel at that magical moment of dawn and were greeted with pelicans flying overhead and fish jumping left and right. I sat on the bow, exhaustedly gazing at the horizon, when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see a big splash, and heard Cody and Aaron exclaim. They claimed that what created that monster splash was a huge ray that "had to be 12 feet across!" I've since christened it the Cape Fear Monster - sort of like the Loch Ness Monster, but more badass.
Monsters aside, we made it into our harbor before the harbormaster was even in for the day, so we grabbed a slip and passed out.
Not long after Cody came into the cabin to make a thermos of coffee for the long night ahead, while Aaron deftly navigated the boat in the 6 foot swells. Now, Cody's the kind of guy who'll hammer his finger, grunt, and keep on working. I've seen him take spills on his bike that have left him bloody and bruised, and get right back up and keep riding. He's a tough guy, is what I'm saying. Well, he had his hand on top of the coffee maker (pour over-style) to keep it from moving around in the rough seas, but we caught a wave funny and the thermos slid out from under it, causing the boiling water and coffee grounds to stream out over his hand. I was still huddled in the v-berth and I heard him hollar in such a way that I could tell he'd hurt himself pretty badly. Still incapacitated with seasickness, however, I could only tell him to leave the mess for the morning and make sure he got some ice on it. I'd packed a couple really good first aid kits (one for the boat, one for the ditch bag) and we had several chemical ice packs. After very little fuss, he was back out on deck.
As it was getting dark I heard Aaron say something about feeling a little unwell, but that he wasn't sure if it was from the seas or just nerves from sailing at night (sailing at night is unnerving at the best of times, and downright alarming when you're moving through 6 foot waves at 9 knots on a 23 foot boat). I crawled up and gave him back his seabands, took one look around and went back down below. It would seem that the seabands didn't reach him soon enough, however, because around midnight he becamee somewhat incapacitated. I'd been trying to convince myself to get up and be a functional member of the team, so at that point I came up and traded places with Aaron. Despite my conviction that I'd be sleeping through the night I ended up sitting on deck trying to entertain Cody from midnight until we arrived the next morning.
As one navigates around Cape Fear there is a 30 mile long shoal that extends into the Atlantic, known as the Frying Pan Shoal.. At the end of the shoal is a former Coast Guard light station that sits 50 feet above the waterline. This structure is known as the Frying Pan. Reportedly, during larger storms the waves break over the top of the building. Wrap your head around that. Anyway, now it's been converted into a bed and breakfast. Go figure. Larger boats always go out around the shoal or they'll risk running aground on the sand bars that, in some places, leave just 4 feet of water. 6 foot swells in 4 feet of water do not a successful sailing trip make. By this point the seas had subsided ssomewhat and the wind quieted, so we were looking at 4 foot seas and 6 knot speeds. Additionally, we'd picked a place to cross the shoal where the chart (well, one of them, anyway) promised 7-8 foot depths. Tension was already running high from the rough night as we began the 3 mile traverse, and I'm pretty sure I didn't breath until we were clear. Our passage was incident free, although waves could be heard breaking not far from where we sat.
From here we turned north and hauled in the sails, our speed once again ramping up to 7 knots. 7 knots on no sleep is stressful. But the sun was beginning to show on the horizon and we were only a couple miles from our destination at Bald Head Island, the body of land that constitutes Cape Fear. Aaron came back on deck feeling much better after a couple hours of shut-eye. We turned into the channnel at that magical moment of dawn and were greeted with pelicans flying overhead and fish jumping left and right. I sat on the bow, exhaustedly gazing at the horizon, when I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned in time to see a big splash, and heard Cody and Aaron exclaim. They claimed that what created that monster splash was a huge ray that "had to be 12 feet across!" I've since christened it the Cape Fear Monster - sort of like the Loch Ness Monster, but more badass.
Monsters aside, we made it into our harbor before the harbormaster was even in for the day, so we grabbed a slip and passed out.
Grill-cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs.
Cody was very proud of his fish.
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