On our previous trip through the the area we'd stopped at the Portsmouth town dock but noticed signs indicating that overnight tie-up wasn't an option. Robert assured us that we could tie up overnight. We were able to find dock space, although it required a tricky piece of parallel parking that we'd never have been able to pull off at the beginning of the trip. Go team. Later in the evening we walked to the Commodore Theater, about 5 blocks away from the dock, also on Robert's recommendation. The Commodore was built in 1945, and has the look and feel of the golden age of movie theaters (whatever that age is, I don't know, I just made that up). Anyway, it's cool. They ripped out the lower seats a number of years ago and put in individual tables, seating between 2 and 6 people. There's a phone on the table and you call in your dinner order to the kitchen, and they bring it out to you while you watch the movie. Super rad. Also, the movie was incredibly cheap - $7 if you paid cash, to see a movie that had only been out for a week. It was really neat - I wish the small theaters around here would follow the model, because it's rad.
Anyway, we had a nice date night, but we should have known better than to tie up to the dock. We have back luck at docks. Our boat just doesn't afford enough privacy and sound proofing to be able to rest well with street lights and sounds coming in. Oh well.
We got moving the next morning with no clear destination in mind, just heading up the Chesapeake towards Baltimore. The wind was light and variable, however, so we didn't make very good progress and dropped anchor about 40 miles north of Norfolk. The next day we had light wind in the morning but it picked up in the afternoon allowing us to turn off the motor and have a lovely sail. I cooked dinner while we tried to pick up a few more miles, and we ate on the trampoline while Martha the Autopilot kept us on course. It was a beautiful evening, and as we neared our anchorage we were surrounded by a pod of huge dolphins. Not a huge pod, but huge dolphins. They stayed with us, feeding on fish in the shallower water, while we sailed the last mile or so. We dropped anchor and settled in the cabin for the evening.
There tide and wind were in opposition, creating a bit of an eddy, and Tri-oomph likes to move all around on the anchor under the best of conditions. We twisted around and the anchor line ended up getting wrapped around the centerboard - we heard it creaking against the hull of the boat and went on deck to sort it out. I tied a longer line to the anchor line using a bolon, and walked it around the side of the boat. I handed the line off to Cody, who walked it around the stern and then pulled to see if it was free. And that was when the bolon pulled free and we lost our trusted Danforth anchor that had held us in all conditions we'd encountered.
Now, as the tie-er of this knot I felt a certain degree of responsibility (guilt) although I know in my heart it was the same solid knot I'd tied a hundred times in our anchor line to no ill-consequence. Cody was . . . upset. Not at me, but at the potential loss of the anchor. We threw out the backup anchor (a smaller Danforth) and Cody decided to dive and try to find the line and retrieve the anchor. At this point it was almost dark, however, and the water in the Chesapeake is not the same clear water of Florida and the Bahamas. It was only 8 feet deep, but couple that with a strong current and it was an exercise in futility. Cody realized this after a couple minutes and hauled himself back on deck with pronouncements of irate failure. We had the presence of mind to mark a Man-Overboard point on the GPS when the knot had let go before we'd drifted too far so we had a decent idea whereabouts the anchor might be, but the line could have drifted in any direction and would surely be at the very bottom. After trying to motor over it, dragging the other anchor in the hopes of snagging the line for about a half hour we gave up and set the small anchor for the night.
Now, we'd been getting some water in the rear outrigger supports, which in turn infiltrated the box where the electronic wiring runs. As a result, the alarm for our depth sounder hadn't been working in a few days. Unbeknownst to us, we left the depth sounder on that night. At about 1 AM I awoke to a feeble beeping sound coming from the depth sounder. I dug out the iPad and saw that we'd drifted about a mile and a half, our anchor dragging helplessly along with us, and were 3 feet of water, about to run aground. Sigh. Silently thanking our depth sounder for coming through in the pinch, I woke Cody and we motored closer to shore and reset the anchor. In the eddy we'd been in before Tri-oomph had swung around again, this time wrapping the chain around the anchor flukes, rendering it no more than a light weight attached to the bow. Hoping that this time we'd be fine, we went back to bed.
We awoke the next day having not dragged again (yay!) and decided to dedicate another couple hours to possible anchor retrieval. The cost of replacing the anchor alone is only about $100, but add 10 feet of heavy chain and 100 fee of good rope and it's closer to $250, which we weren't (and aren't) in a position to afford. As we motored over to our MOB point where we'd last seen our dear anchor, we saw the water was filled with jellyfish. Not the benign Cannonballs that we'd seen all along the Georgia coast, but tentacled, menacing Sea Nettles. They won't kill you, unless you're allergic, but they can delivery a nasty sting. We suited Cody up on a pair of my leggings (dashing!) and his rash guard shirt, and he jumped back in to look for the anchor. While he didn't get stung, he also didn't find the anchor. We gave up and bade our trusty Danforth farewell.
Tucker was coming to get us the next day so we had to find a boat ramp that we could reach by the next morning and he could find. We picked one up a river, unfortunately still far south of Baltimore. We motor sailed up the river for most of the day, then found a restaurant with a tie-up and got some dinner. We were in Maryland so I got bold and ordered crab cakes. I don't know why. I'm sure they're very good, but every time I eat crab or lobster I think I'm eating big sea-bugs, because that's what they are. We asked the incredibly curmudgeonly bar tender/owner if we could stay on his dock overnight, and he allowed it. While we ate the other guy at the bar talked Cody's ear off while I wished we'd gotten a table instead. At one point he asked me what I did, and I told him I was in school to be a teacher, to which he replied that I'd never make any money like that. Oh the people you meet.
We had a good night at the dock, though, and woke early the next morning to prepare the boat for the trailer. We packed stuff up and then dropped the mast. We usually drop the mast with the trailer winch, but we were on a dock so we had only the spinnaker halyard. I had the halyard with a couple wraps around the winch, and Cody stood on the cabin guiding it down. It was easy to lower at first, but our line ended up being too short and I wasn't able to get enough wraps with the rope and the mast crashed down the last 3 feet, almost (but not quite!) cracking the solar panel. Ugh.
We got everything wrapped up, though, and motored across the river to the boat ramp, where we folded up the pontoons and settled in to wait for Tucker and Cody's mom who had accompanied him.
They arrived, we loaded Tri-oomph onto the trailer, and were bound for home. That night, at about 1 AM, we arrived back in Gloucester, 14 weeks to the day from when we'd left.
I hope this post doesn't sound negative, or like our last week on the boat sucked or anything, because it was actually great, despite the anchor, solar panel, crab cakes, and shifty winds. I'm writing this almost 3 weeks after getting home and I feel incredibly sad that the trip is over. I'm happy to be home, of course, and seeing Riley was amazing, but I think I'd still rather be back out on the water (maybe with Riley in tow, this time). We were so lucky to get the chance to take this trip, and I would do it again, no differently, in a heartbeat. But it's always sad when adventures end, even if another is just beginning.
Now, in a departure from my normal Simpsons and MST3K and Seinfeld quotes -
"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." -T.S. Elliot
At the Commodore!
Water sloshing around in the electronics box.
So sad out of the water.
Crossing the George Washington Bridge.
The best part of coming home.
