From the Captain.  Leaving the Pamlico Sound

Oct 24. Ocracoke

The howling wind abated by late morning and a nice sunny day followed. More walking, exploring, a nice brunch at The Flying Melon, a visit to the thrift shop across the street, and the taco stand. But of greatest interest is that today I deepened my understanding of surf fishing.

We walked past a house on the Old Beach Road. There were four guys outside cleaning large fish. I learned they were red drum, and that these four friends have been coming to Ocracoke every fall for a week of fishing. They rent the same place every year (going on twenty), and book it a year in advance because cottages fill up quickly. Fishing has been really good this year because of the government shut down. You need a permit to drive on the beach, and none has been available until last week. They conclude there are more fish around because of this. Their SUV's have fishing rods sticking up from the bumpers.

Red Drum is the fish of choice around here. It has firm white meat and holds together well on the barbecue. Joanie manages to talk them out of two choice filets. They refuse any money ("southern hospitality"), but allow as how they really like Crown Royal, and it sure is a lot of work cleaning all those fish. Old Beach Road continues onto the Beach Road, coming in right next to the Topless Oyster. A little to the left is the Mexican food truck, in the parking lot of the supermarket. Between the taco truck and the supermarket sits the liquor store. Thus, these two filets, about three pounds in all, become the freshest and maybe the most expensive fish filets we've ever had. But were they wonderful!

Thankful for the whiskey, the friendly boys from the Carolina mainland discuss cooking techniques. "I sprinkle mine with melted butter and a little olive oil and lemon juice, a little salt and pepper," volunteers one. "You can put on some Old Bay seasoning. Sort of New Orleans style," offers another. From a third, we learn a new technique we ultimately use: "cooking the fish on the half shell."

Here is how it works: You take the filet with skin and scales left on. Coat the meat with melted butter and olive oil and grill it face down for a little bit to seal the surface. Then turn it over and cook it until the water starts to come out of the top. I chop a little garlic into the butter as it is melting and sprinkle the meat with some of the commander's Caribbean seasoning before coating it with the butter. I grill it as directed, and the meat separates easily from the skin when it is done. We eat a lot, and have enough left over for fish tacos tomorrow.

On the dock before dinner, a Quebecois man comes over because he saw "Vermont" on Luna's transom. He is here with seven friends, who join him before long. He has some ties to Vermont, having a camp up near Pelot's Bay where we have anchored on overnight trips to the northern part of Lake Champlain. The Canadians are windsurfers hanging out a little north near Cape Hatteras. They have heard the updated weather forecast: strong winds will resume overnight, and by morning will be in the 20-25 kt range, still from the northeast. They are happy. For Luna, this will mean spending another day in Ocracoke. Not a bad outcome for any of us.


October 26 Ocracoke to Broad Creek near Oriental, NC, 34nm.

Blackbeard's ship in the harbor at Ocracoke

Pirate Festival activities started yesterday afternoon with a kids' parade at the local elementary school. Little pirates and their families are walking around the town. Blackbeard and his crew have their camp on one side of the road by the inn, and the English sailors are tenting on the other, by the marina. There is a mock trial at the community center. Blackbeard is still guilty.

Men in pirate and soldier garb pass on the street and greet the civilians fully in character: "Avast there, matey, Look sharp." I was told. In the morning of the great battle re-encactment, I see some of the pirate crew hurrying to their ship which is docked near us. "C'mon," says Blackbeard, in a somewhat high and nasal voice, "We're supposed to be starting at eight."

This morning the winds have moderated some: nw at 15kts with 2-3 foot waves on the sound. The sun is out. Joanie left for home yesterday.  It's time to go. The pirate and English ships are maneuvering in the harbor. Archer helps us with our lines, hands us his boat card with an invitation  to stay at his yacht club up the Neuse River in New Bern, and pushes us off.  We ease out and go next door to the fuel dock to fill the diesel tank and empty the holding tank. They we follow Blackbeard's pirate ship out into the channel. He turns south. The inbound ferry passes somehow, and we turn northwest into the wind.

The Ocracoke channel is narrow and confusing. We mind the switch of the bouys--red to port exiting the harbor, red to starboard in the main channel. There are shallow shoals on both sides. Some unfortunate sailor must have missed the switch, as we see the top of a mast from the spreader upward above the surface of the sound not too far away. The waves break over the bow of the sunken hull.

Beating into a chilly northwest wind across Pamlico Sound

Once past the channel, we can bear off to the west, hoist the sails, and turn off the engine. Later in the afternoon, the breeze slackens and backs to the west, and we motor on to Broad Creek between the mouth of the Neuse River and Oriental, N.C. We go up the creek and find a delightful, quiet, and private place to drop the anchor. We sit and watch the sunset over the head of the creek. A welcome change from the busyness of Ocracoke.

October 27. River Dunes Marina. Broad Creek, N.C.

We spent the day around the corner from our quiet anchorage on Broad Creek at the River Dunes Marina. This came highly recommended by one of our dock neighbors at Ocracoke. He stops in every time he sails to and from his home base in New Bern. Moreover, the marina gets consistently high marks from other sailors who post evaluations to Active Captain. In fact, one person who rates marinas on the basis of favorability ratings calls River Dunes the most highly rated marina in the world. How could we not check this out?

There was another more mundane reason for the move: we froze last night. From home, we have heard that Vermont has had an unusually warm fall. Not so down here. We haven't seen really warm weather since October 5 in St. Michaels. And it's been unusually cold the past few nights. Yesterday the temperature was 55 degrees in the cabin when we woke up. We have a small electric space heater on Luna, but this requires us to plug in to power at the dock. Hence the stop at the marina.

River Dunes is indeed so far over the top, it's hard to see down to the top from where we are. There is a narrow channel into the harbor. The walls are lined with concrete pavers. The harbor is a large man-made basin, protected on all sides. If there were a major storm in the area, I couldn't imagine a better hurricane hole to be in. The floating docks are planked with smooth ipe. Tom, dressed in pressed khakis and a long sleeved white knit polo shirt with the marina's name embroidered on the left side, helps us with our lines. There is a swimming pool, an exercise room, laundry room, hot tubs. The shower rooms are tiled. The club house building has a library with a fireplace, leather chairs and hard bound volumes, including a 19th-century Brittannica. There is a pool table and another fireplace in a different room. They offer a cruiser's dinner. Outside, the lawns and gardens are perfectly manicured. Everything is spotlessly clean. There is nothing out of place. It's hard to take it all in. There is no funk.

Looking over the manicured lawn to the harbor at River Dunes

They lent us the courtesy car, and we drove into Oriental. There is a high bridge which takes you over the river, and below are a couple shrimp boats and many sail and motor boats docked and anchored in the small harbor. There is a small charming downtown. I saw a sign which commemorates the first motorized school bus in North Carolina that took kids to school in Oriental in 1917.

It's Sunday and many of the shops are closed. Bruno, owner of Endurance Seafood, sells local catch out of his house. We bought a pound of shrimp for $6.00. He shoveled some ice from his ice house into our insulated bag to keep it cold on the way back. We sautéed the shrimp with last night's left over jumbalaya and spent a warmer evening on Luna with the space heater running and the World Series streaming on the commander's iPhone.

River Dunes is at the early stage of a planned community of luxury waterfront houses being developed on the 1,300-acre parcel. Other than the marina, the rest of the property is eerily empty with just a few houses and many empty lots. Someone has put a lot of money into this project, judging by the marina and its facilities.

This is someone's very ambitious field of dreams. And if the first part of the well known conditional--"if you build it,"--is true, clearly the second part has yet to materialize. When it is realized, we have the feeling there will be no room for transient mariners like us. In the meantime, perhaps some of the transients will become homeowners there. We think that's what the owners and investors are hoping. They offer a whole lot of marina for a very reasonable price ($1.50 per boat foot).

And yet, we feel strangely out of place. We are merely the captain and crew of a medium-sized sailboat. We are sailors. Here we feel like yachtsmen. I'm not sure where the line is between the two, if there is a line. But I suspect there is one, and I know on which side we stand.

After returning from the store, we sit on the spacious porch of the clubhouse building. This is an antebellum manor house with tall columns and a wide porch that wraps around two sides of the building. We are sitting in rocking chairs enjoying the coming sunset. In the background, soul music from the 1960's is playing softly from hidden loudspeakers. It's clear who is the target demographic of this great project. The commander and I know every song they play.

Checking out the sunset across Broad Creek

From the Captain.

South on Pamlico Sound

10/21 Manteo to Far Creek, Big Trout Marina, Englehard, N.C. 32.8 nm 

We were awake to get an early start on the day. Walking down the dock to the shower, I passed a man busily tapping on the screen of his smart phone. He didn't notice me until I was about 50 feet past. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to ignore you." I commented on the lovely sunrise over the sound and said that I didn't want to bother him as he was concentrating on his phone. "That's no excuse for me to be rude," he said. There is a standard of behavior here, of gentility, of courtesy that is quite touching at times. Often we hear, "Yes, ma'am," or, "Yes, sir."

The wind permitted us to hoist the sails, and we relied on the Garmin and the paper chart for compass

Able seawoman, Joanie Alexander

directions as the sound is wide open with very few distinguishing landmarks. Not too many crab traps down this way, but we passed several shrimp boats dredging the shallow sound.

There is also not much shelter on the sound, and Far Creek is about the only place between Manteo and Ocracoke deep enough to enter. We planned to anchor there for the night, but found the channel so narrow that when we reached the end, we were happy to see Ray standing on the dock at his marina. Known, as he told us, as "Hot Dog," he helped us with the lines. As I was adjusting them and placing fenders on the pilings, he was over to the side cleaning some fish he had just caught: a few flounder, a good size trout, and a red drum. He had passed us in his fishing boat as we were navigating the channel.

The marina is a fairly minimal operation. There is a restaurant, but Hot Dog says he only opens it between 11 and 3 now. He used to have a breakfast trade, but business is slow. There are a few worn power boats in the slips. There is a neat line of travel trailers--camps for the fishermen with the boats, no doubt.  This is not one of the cute waterfront towns that cater to the yachting set. It is a farming community--corn and cabbages. And a few shrimpers come into the narrow inlet to a packing house further up the creek. Even that business is in jeopardy, apparently. Ray tells us that there is a shrimp-farming operation coming.

The hot water in the bathroom doesn't work. "We've been having trouble with mosquitoes," Hot Dog advises. "Better get inside early. They'll carry you away."  He gives us a bag of ice cubes for happy hour. We plug the shore power cord into the outlet, and the commander makes a lovely lentil curry with the left over grilled shrimp from last night's dinner. No sitting on the deck tonight.

The cabin fills with mosquitoes in short order, and we spend the evening putting up screens and swatting the buggers. Sleep is interrupted. This is the first time we've encountered this problem, and we're not really prepared. There are squashed bugs and occasional blood splotches over the cabin ceiling. There will be clean up to do in the morning. Interestingly, no one complains of itchy bites. The mosquitoes don't leave any welts and don't itch Apparently, even the mosquitoes here are polite.

In retrospect, we should have anchored out in the sound. The forecast didn't indicate a windy or rough night. We tend, though, to seek protected areas to anchor--quiet creeks or coves or areas in the lee of a protecting shore. It would have been fine, for once, to stay out in the open and probably more comfortable in the end.

10/22/13  Far Creek to Ocracoke, N.C. 23.7nm.

Ocracoke is the only island on the outer banks that has no connection to the mainland by road. There is ferry service to the north and west. Coming in on the narrow channel from a lovely reach down Pamlico Sound, we saw the ferry closing on us from astern. I used the VHF radio to call the captain to ask how we could best stay out of his way. "You stay to the green side, I'll stay to the red side," he replied. Here, as we are navigating toward the ocean, red remains to port. We stayed on the starboard side of the channel.

There are National Park Service docks in Ocracoke, right past the ferry dock in a large protected lagoon (Silver Lake). We can use our Silver Eagle pass to take advantage of low dock fees ($.60 per boat foot). Water and electricity ($3.00 per night extra) are right at the dock. Friendly Archer, sailing from New Bern, N.C., on his 41-foot Beneteau, Ciel Bleu, helps us tie up and fills us in on the place. He wonders if we're here for the annual Pirate Festival, which is this weekend. We are not.

Ocracoke is a delightful island beach community. Like Key West, the residents (far fewer in number than the renters who crowd the island in the summer, apparently) fancy themselves an independent republic. There are crafts shops and gift shops and lots of places to eat. People travel around in (unregistered) golf carts on the roads with cars. There are lots of bicycles on the island. I didn't notice a lot of bicycle locks. The place has a nice energy.

These old cleats once held U.S. Navy subchasers

Ocracoke is known in history as one of the hiding places and site of eventual death in 1718 of Edward Teach, better know as Blackbeard, the pirate. Hence the annual pirate festival. There are other bad guys in the island's history, though not remembered with such fondness. During World War II, German U-boats operating right off the coast, sunk 400 American ships in this part of the Atlantic, giving the waters off Ocracoke the name, Torpedo Alley. Silver Lake was actually a shallow pond before the US Navy dredgers created the large hidden anchorage for its anti-submarine ships. The Park Service docks are the original navy base.

10/23/13 Ocracoke

There are restrooms at the National Park Service docks in Ocracoke. There are water and power at the dock. No showers. But, with an unlimited supply of fresh water and electricity to power the water heater, we get to try Luna's shower. The faucet in the sink in the head pulls out and becomes a hand-held shower. You turn it on, get wet, soap yourself up, and rinse off. Like showering in an old-fashioned telephone booth, but it works. As everywhere else on Luna, I find there is just enough space to accomplish what you need to do, but no more.

Exploring Ocracoke by bicycle

We rented bikes and explored the island. We stopped at Edouardo's Mexican food truck out by the grocery store. I bought a cheesy pork taco ("Ocracoke's favorite"), and the commander got a plate of vegetarian tacos. The taco con carnitas contained perfectly cooked and seasoned shredded pork with a few crumbles of queso fresca, lettuce, and chopped tomatoes wrapped in two corn tortillas. It was excellent

We ride our lunches out to the beach, eat, and walk on the sand. There is a brisk south wind, and the day has turned sunny but cool. There are not many people just hanging out on the beach, but there are plenty of surf fishermen.

Surf fishing is popular here. Where permitted, people drive on the beach in their SUV's and 4 WD pickup trucks with enough fishing poles sticking up from both bumpers to arouse the attention of an aberrant porcupine. I hardly ever see anyone pulling in a fish, though there is a photo in the local newspaper of a man holding up a large red drum down where the sand meets the ocean.

There is plenty of room for the fishers, the sun-bathers, the surfers, or whatever. Ocracoke was voted the best beach in America  in 2007. The same year, Conde Nast rated it as the fifth best beach in the world. I can see why. It's wide and clean. The sand is fine. There are 16 miles of undeveloped beach.

The ride back from the beach was right into the wind. The skies had turned cloudy with an approaching cold front. We sought shelter at the Topless Oyster bar that offered happy-hour prices (50 cents) for their oysters. The bartender told me the oysters came from the James River, and to me they were somewhat bland. I am accustomed to oysters tasting like a solid hit of sea water. There is nothing else quite like them. Perhaps the James River area is too brackish, as the these oysters seemed under-salted.

Dinner on Luna

We had dinner back on Luna, then later went to a nearby bar (Dajio's) to watch the Red Sox win the first game of the World Series.





10/24/13 Ocracoke

We had a restless night aboard Luna. The cold front arrived, bringing a strong north wind. Even in this protected harbor, we could hear the wind howling outside, and Luna bobbed at the wharf. We are tied to the windward side of the dock, so our fenders got a work-out, creaking every time Luna rubbed against them.

Considering sailing out into the ocean, I have read that if you look out and see elephants on the horizon, best to stay ashore. The elephants, of course, are large waves at sea. Lake Champlain has its own version of that, though the animals are much smaller. If you look at the horizon there and see a ragged line, you know there are large waves. We look out at the Pamlico Sound, and the horizon is a confused broken line. Whitecaps are visible in the foreground. We are staying put today.

The forecast calls for 15-20 kt northwest winds, moderating and becoming west in the afternoon. We are heading west from here. Tomorrow the forecast is a little better. Looks like another plate of cheesy pork tacos is in the immediate future.

By the Ocracoke Lighthouse

Windblown sand on Ocracoke Beach

From the Captain 

Down through North Carolina

October 17. Norfolk, VA to Great Dismal Swamp Visitors' Center, North Carolina. 24.8 nm

The Dismal Swamp is neither. To a mariner, it is a very pleasant canal, 30 miles long, about wide enough for two boats, 7-10 feet deep, that connects the Elizabeth River in Norfolk with Pamlico Sound in North Carolina. George Washington figured in the development of the canal. Dozier's Cruising Guide for the Atlantic ICW, a standard reference for cruisers, tells us that he and several businessmen bought the swamp in 1763 thinking to drain it and harvest the virgin-growth cypress trees for boat building. He designed the canal and supervised its building. He eventually sold his interest, and the last old growth tree was removed in the 1950's. The area is now the 40,000-acre Great Dismal Swamp National Wildlife Refuge. We saw a couple of turtles on the way.

The ride was slow and pleasant, a calm, mostly straight waterway through dense woodland. If we were in Vermont and if Luna were a canoe, motoring on the canal would be like paddling up Lewis Creek from the lake toward Route 7. The Army Corps of Engineers is responsible for maintaining the canal, and at least once a year clear debris and trim overhanging limbs to allow safe passage by the tall-masted sailboats. By our observation, they are doing a good job.

There was some drama in choosing the swamp route. There are two ways to go. The Virginia Cut is deeper, has only one lock, and is quicker. The Dismal Swamp is more scenic but slower with two locks and two drawbridges. There has been much activity on cruising web sites such as Active Captain and various blogs talking about a thick growth of duckweed on the water. This can get into the cooling system of boat engines and cause dangerous overheating. We also heard the canal was very crowded with boats heading south.

About a dozen boats wait at a drawbridge at the start of the intracoastal waterway. Opening is at 9:30 am. We are there, drifting. Past the bridge, the route divides, and the Dismal Swamp route turns off to the right. Nine boats go straight. We turn right. We have inside knowledge. Nancy, the organizer, the retired elementary school principal, has called the first lock keeper to get the inside story. "It's not so bad," he says. "Two sailboats have just gone through, and they had no problem. It's not as crowded as it was this weekend. I think you'll be fine. (But don't quote me.)"

Luna idles in duckweed

We motor through some duckweed, but, it's not so bad. No engine trouble. The canal is not crowded. There are 6 boats in a line heading south from the first lock.

At mile 25, we pass from Virginia into North Carolina. Interestingly, the guidebook notes that the Halfway Hotel used to sit in the Great Dismal Swamp at this point. It is said that Edgar Allen Poe wrote The Raven here.

At mile 28, we reach the visitor center, which has a long dock to the east of the canal. Otherwise, it's a highway rest area on highway 17 and the site of a state park. There are bathrooms, an information office, and a nature trail. There is internet access. Boats are welcomed to stay the night, and nine of us raft up, three abreast, along the quay.

The largest boat is a huge ocean-going sailing catamaran, Umineko, and it is 24 feet wide and 43 feet long. The captain and owner introduces himself as Sato, who is the first Japanese to sail around the world in a catamaran. He has a mate with him, and in New York City took on a young woman, Sally, as the cook. She is writing a food blog called Sally in the Galley (sallyinthegalley.net). She makes cookies for her crew and some extra for us.

Rafted up at the Dismal Swamp Visitors' Center

One of the raftees has been here for 4 days. He is the source of the blog activity about the duckweed. His sailboat's cooling system was plugged by duckweed earlier in the week, and it ruined his exhaust. He is waiting for a part to fix the problem and hopes his engine survived the severe overheating. The rest of us retire to our boats and check the strainers: part of the water intake on the bottom of the hull that keeps debris out of the water pump. Sure enough, each of us, including Luna, has some duckweed in the filters.

October 18. Dismal Swamp Visitors' Center to Elizabeth City, NC. 20 nm.

Most of the boats docked at the Visitor's Center left early, we among them. Luna's engine is running a bit cooler since I cleaned out the strainer. With the rising sun before us, the fall colors of the trees along the canal stand out. No reds as in New England, but lovely pale greens, some rust and yellows. The sun lights up the water ahead, the trees and water and sky narrowing to a vanishing point in the distance. It's like a class in perspective drawing at the Hudson River School.

Dismal Swamp Canal

The water is brown here, the result we're told, of the tannins released by the decaying vegetation of the Dismal Swamp.

We waited 4 miles down the canal for the drawbridge and lock to open to bring us down to river level. This is not the crisp lock operation of the Champlain Canal. The process is slow. The lock keeper drives over to the drawbridge and raises it on schedule (8:30 am). Six of us pass. Then he returns to the lock, opens the gate, and helps each boat put their lines along the wall of the canal. He closes the gates behind the boats, drains the water out, and opens the gates in front. The process takes about 45 minutes.

The parade resumes down the rest of the canal and into the Pasquotank River. Five of us stop at

Elizabeth City. A friendly place

Elizabeth City, where the town maintains free slips for transient boaters. A greeter comes, helps us fix our lines and talks about the city. Elizabeth City, at the head of the Dismal Swamp Canal, figured heavily in the shipping industry early on. Goods from the lower Carolinas made their way through here to Norfolk. Lumber was a major product. It seems like a friendly place.

We have an excellent and surprisingly economical lunch at Quality Seafoods, recommended by the greeter. The commander has an excellent fried oyster sandwich, and I have a chopped pork sandwich. We can also buy some seafood for dinner there. We walk a mile and a half down to the Food Lion supermarket and stock up on some provisions.

Traveling through the Dismal Swamp, the commander thinks the air just smells different in a nice way, and she associates this with being in the South. I'm not so sure. I think it could be the rising tide of southern barbecue wafting northward on the southern breeze.

October 19. Elizabeth City to Manteo, NC 38.5nm. 

The day started with a drizzle and a fairly strong wind from the east. The guidebook warns that the shallow Albemarle Sound, to which we are headed, can kick up a big chop in windy conditions. There is some debate among the transient residents of the city dock, and we decide it is time for Luna to go.

On the charts and on the GPS, the Intracoastal Waterway shows up as a magenta line. It leads from Elizabeth City, into the sound, and turns south down the Alligator River. We see our friends following in the distance, and at some point they turn south toward the river. They are following the magenta line. We hail them on the VHF radio to say good bye and fair seas. And we continue east. We are on the road less travelled toward the outer banks of the Hatteras National Seashore. Our destination for the day is the small town of Manteo, on Roanoke Island.

We are meeting our old friend, Joanie Alexander, there. She has gotten a ride over from her house in Hiillsborough, and by mutual agreement, we will shanghai her into the crew of Luna for a few days as we travel down the sound to Ocracoke Island and Beaufort. She's done some shopping for us at Trader Joe's on the way over.

The other reason I'd like to stay in the sound instead of travel down the river is that we can sail in the sound. Traveling slowly under motor power is OK, but Luna is really a fish out of water under motor and prefers to sail. As do we. Approaching Roanoke Island, we found the water lost its tea-brown tint and saw our first dolphin. Just off to starboard, its dorsal fin surfaced twice and then quickly receded. The air smelled of fish briefly.

Joanie is an old friend from the young days of our family when we were all building houses in East

Joanie joins us in Manteo

Charlotte. It's fitting to meet her in Manteo, which is the site of the oldest known English settlement in the New World. Sir Walter Raleigh and his associates disembarked a ship load of 120 colonists on Roanoke Island in 1587. The first English baby of the new world, Virginia Dare, was born here in the same year. Three years later, when a supply ship finally returned, there was no trace of the colony or the colonists. Speculation around the fate of the lost colony persists today. The town is cute and welcoming with a historical museum right across the harbor from us and the downtown area only a block away.

We spend the night at the Manteo Waterfront Marina, hospitably greeted by George Barr, whom we call on the VHF radio. He directs us along the narrow entrance channel and meets us at the dock to help with our lines. It turns out he graduated from Middlebury College. He was the goalie for the soccer team that included Vermont artist Woody Jackson, to whom he wishes us to express greetings.

We met Joanie and her friend, Steven, and had dinner at a local brew pub, the Full Moon. There seems to be little appetite for punning in the South. People seem more straight forward. In Boston, this might be called Brew Moon. The commander and I had plates of shrimp and grits. Once back at the boat, we listened to the end of the Red Sox on audio streamed from our telephone.

Joanie's friend has a business selling and installing photovoltaic panels. He says the industry is booming in North Carolina, owing to generous state and federal tax credits and, in no small measure, to the amount of sunshine residents receive.

October 20. Manteo, NC.

Today was a different experience. For the first time since New York City, we take a day off. We're at

Walking on the Hatteras National Seashore

Manteo just for the fun of being here. We're not here on the way to somewhere else or waiting out the weather. We're tourists. We drive out to the Hatteras National Seashore in the morning for a walk on the beach. We do some shopping. In the afternoon, we walk over to the historical museum across the way. One of the museum actors, who plays a carpenter in the original colony, shares his opinion that the lost colonists left the area and joined the Croatan Indians down near Cape Hatteras.

There is a nice, quiet pace here. We are off the magenta line,  and it is off-season. The marina sits at the city's waterfront park, and people stroll along the boardwalk at the head of the docks. The marina itself is uncrowded. We kick back and relax. No boat projects either.

George, from the marina, goes over the nautical chart of the area and directs us to an anchorage between here and Ocracoke. We'll set out in the morning.

What is the air speed velocity of a fully laden swallow?

From the Captain

You know, I think it's getting brighter.  Aunt Kay Hanley

October 12 Solomons, MD to Mill Creek, VA 42 nm.


We're up early and ready to cast off. We have liked our stay in the Calvert Marina. It's an interesting place historically. Once a  naval base, it was the site of training for amphibious troops. Maneuvers to prepare for the D Day invasion occurred here. There are enactments on a regular basis. Now the large site, decommissioned in 1947 and home to the marina, a couple restaurants, and a renown boat repair business (Washburn's Boatyard), is scheduled for development of waterfront housing. Plans have been in place, waiting for the economy to turn around.

We're on our 8th straight day of high NE winds and cloudy, drizzly, or rainy skies. There is an area if low pressure stuck off the eastern shore that continues to control our weather. We're anchored in Mill Creek. It's a winding branch off the mouth of the Great Wicomico River. To paraphrase my late father-in-law, I think, "What's so great about it?"

Actually, this is a very good anchorage. It's very well protected from the winds that are blowing out in the bay, and Luna is lying calmly at anchor.

She deserves it. The passage from Solomons to here was marked by 20 kt winds and higher gusts.

Rough seas on the Chesapeake Bay

Still being pushed along, we set the foresail and ran before the wind, averaging over 6 kts. The wind was accompanied by high waves that pitched us as they came up from behind. At one point they seemed more than 4 feet from crest to trough, maybe as high as 6 feet. In the cockpit, we stayed protected from the spray, but kept our raincoats on against the occasional drizzle. The waves were strongest at the mouth of the Potomac River, where the current from the river mixed with the wind and tidal current of the bay. Phil and Nancy steered their catamaran far toward the eastern shore and thought the waves were calmer there, but they still had to come back across the bay to the anchorage. We steered Luna on a rhum line from middle of the bay to the Smith Point light at the southern end of the Potomac to the Wicomico. On the way, we saw our first pelican.

Three of us had decided to leave (Mighty Fine stayed behind) because it seemed that today was a small window of better weather and it would feel good to make progress to the south. The winds are forecast to abate further to the south.

Sailing all day without benefit of the motor felt great. It is much quieter in the boat, and we're doing what Luna was meant to do. However, another cloudy day means no benefit from the solar panel, and there is still the issue of keeping the batteries up. We keep our electrical needs minimal by using LED lanterns and flashlights in the cabin. Yet the refrigeration is a constant draw on the batteries, and the GPS and other electronic equipment we use while sailing takes energy out of the batteries. The pressure water pump comes on occasionally, and the light at the top of the mast has to be turned on at dusk while at anchor.

Luna's battery capacity was designed with the solar system in mind, and without the sun, we'll have to run the motor while sailing or even at anchor in the morning to recharge the system with the engine's generator. We're feeling a little cooped-up and are looking forward to sitting out on the deck, stretching out a little in sunny, warm, and dry weather.

Emerald Sunset has a happy-hour gathering for the six of us, and Nancy has made nachos. Jimmy taxis us over and back in Blue Jay's dinghy so we don't have to hoist ours up from the foredeck and back. We bring the remnants of a bottle of wine. The weather forecast keeps changing and not for the better. People are thinking if the weather is like this tomorrow, we'll stay put on this quiet creek.

October 14. Mill Creek to Deltaville, VA  30nm

We had a layover day in Mill Creek yesterday. Forecast called for rain off and on and increasing winds in the 20-25 mile range, still from the NE. Waves were predicted at 4-6 feet. Good day to stay in and do some reading. I'm reading Chesapeake by James Michener which Carol loaded onto the Kindle before we left, and she is reading a book she picked up along the way, The Art of Fielding. Every marina has a few shelves of books left by cruisers passing through. You leave your old ones and pick up new ones. It would be interesting to have a card in each book to see where it has travelled.

I did a few chores on Luna: installed a LED light over the kitchen sink. I had purchased this at West Marine in Solomons. And I screwed in a more permanent engine stud for the grounding attachment to the motor. We ran Luna's diesel twice to charge the batteries: two hours in the morning and an hour at night.

Other than the drone of the engine, It was a quiet day on Luna, and we tried not to think about the weather and the rather persistent state of dampness in our world. Dinner was on Emerald Sunset. Nancy made pizzas, and I grilled some chicken to put on the pesto pizza while the commander baked brownies in Luna's oven. Both were a success. As we got back to Luna we caught a glimpse of the moon peeking out through the clouds. I took this as a good omen.

Sure enough, we saw the sun in the morning. Northeast winds persisted, but in the 15 kt range, and seas 2 to 4 feet. We hoisted anchor and departed on the outgoing tide. Again running with jib only, we found waves more like 4-6 feet, especially near the mouth of the Rappahannock River. We rolled and surfed our way down the bay, but didn't get wet. And under blue skies! The sun warmed our bodies and spirits.

I think the secret to navigating in rough conditions is to keep the sail(s) up whenever possible. The motor pushes us through the water, tending to keep the bow down into the waves. The foresail, however, pulls Luna along, lifting her bows and steadying her tendency to roll. She handles the swells just fine, and we are grateful.

Our destination is Deltaville, Virginia, a little way up the Piankatank River in the well-protected and wide Fishing Bay. We anchor near the Fishing Bay Harbor Marina where for $5.00 transients anchored in the bay may use the dinghy dock. A mile or two down the road is a West Marine, grocery and other stores, and a fish market.

Deltaville seems to be a very boat-friendly place. We hadn't walked more than a quarter mile down the road when Elaine from Michigan stopped to give us a lift. She and her husband keep their sloop, Zydeco, here and are about to depart for the intracoastal waterway. She took us to West Marine, and we walked up to the Galley, a restaurant she and a marina staffer suggested for a cup of she-crab soup (great) and a crabcake sandwich (only fair).

We were impressed by the random acts of kindness. As we walked along the road, two others stopped to offer us rides to the grocery store or back to the marina. At the restaurant, I ordered iced tea. "Sweetened or unsweetened?" asked the waitress. "Hot damn!" I thought, "We're in the South."

October 15. Deltaville, VA

This was another layover day, though it didn't start that way. Our plan was to leave early for Hampton Roads, near the start of the intracoastal waterway. Typical of these days, the forecast that didn't seem too bad the night before deteriorated by morning: winds of 15-20 kts and wave heights of 2 to 4 feet, chance of rain. Once out beyond the mouth of the river, we measured winds of 25 knots and waves higher than 4 feet. Nonetheless, we felt we could handle another day of rough sailing. Our friends convinced us otherwise.

Phil and Nancy had pulled into a marina on the north side of Deltaville at the mouth of the Rappahannock. The short passage, motoring north directly into the wind and high waves, was miserable. We steered a little toward the east to take the brunt of the waves on our port bow quarter. Of heavy weather sailing, I have read, "It is better to be in here wishing you were out there than it is to be out there wishing you were in here." We sort of had the worst of both worlds.

Norton's Marina, up a branch of Broad Creek, offered a dock ($1.00 per boat foot per night), showers, and free access to their washer and drier. Phil had an electrical problem checked, and I took the opportunity to ask their mechanic why our house batteries don't seem to be holding a full charge. He checked the generator and pronounced it in good health.

Phil and I set out to test for a current leak, and found an overlooked electrical component we had been leaving on--the remote shut off for the propane system--consumes an amp of electricity an hour. Over the course of the day, this is a significant amount of power. From now on, we will keep that off between times we need to use the stove.

Every time I look, I learn more about the system and seem to get closer to solving the problem. Other components drawing energy from the battery are: refrigerator 5 amps (compressor runs less than half the time); mast light 0.6 amp; 2 cell phones in charger 1 amp; navigation instruments (speed, depth, wind speed and direction) 1 amp; Garmin 0.8 amp; VHF radio 0.6 amp on standby. So far, I've replaced three light fixtures with LED fixtures. They consume 0.125 amp; ordinary bulbs about 0.8 amp. In the afternoon, I purposefully ran the batteries down, then turned on the charger so it would cycle through its three programmed stages designed to charge and restore battery function.

We took a walk to a nearby marina, where power boaters have made their own little worlds--kitchens, living rooms, bars, TV's, ceiling fans--at the back of their covered boat slips. I made crab cakes for dinner with the pound of jumbo lump back fin crab meat we bought on our walk yesterday. My goal for this segment of the trip has been to get to Norfolk and sick of crab cakes on the same day. I think Norfolk will win. We've had some pretty good crab cakes.

Maryland crab cake recipe (latest iteration)

Beat an egg with 1 tbsp of mayo. Add 1 tsp of Old Bay seasoning. Sauté an onion in olive oil and butter until soft and add this when cool. Crush 8 saltines. (We used stone wheat thins and rice crackers tonite because that's what we had on hand.) Mix well and add a pound of crabmeat--back fin or jumbo lump is best. Mix with hands, taking care not to pulverize the crabmeat too badly.

Let sit for 10 minutes. Let hands and shape into patties and coat with Panko breadcrumbs. Let rest for another half hour or so, then sauté lightly, 6 to 8 minutes per side, covering at some point to heat up the middle.

Serve on a bun (or on a plate) with lettuce and tomato and tartar sauce. The commander prefers hers with cocktail sauce.

October 16. Deltaville, VA to Norfolk, VA. Elizabeth River 42.8 miles.

Last night's forecast called for 5-10kt north winds and 1-2 foot seas. For once, NOAA was correct. It was a beautiful day, what they call a weather window, and we grabbed it. We sailed early on, though the wind gradually decreased after noon. We kept the motor running the whole time because we had a destination in mind, and the motor gave us 1-2 kts. more speed than the sails alone.

The light wind behind us presented a perfect opportunity to fly our cruising spinnaker. We've not done this yet. Luna came with a full spinnaker. Before leaving Vermont, I spoke with our local sailmaker, Bill Fastiggi of Vermont Sailing Partners about converting this  to a so-called asymmetric spinnaker that would be much easier for the two of us to handle. Using the old sail cloth, he was able to produce one for less than half the cost of a new sail.

I have to say our first outing with this, today, was an unqualified failure. In retrospect, my mistake was trying to fly the new sail from the windward side of the bow. When I raised it, the halyard twisted around the forestay, and the sail itself wrapped around the forestay instead of ballooning outward and foreword. I had to pull it out of the water and douse it on the foredeck. Luckily, it wasn't windier.

The proper course would have been to raise it from the leeward side, and have the commander steer off wind as it came up. Why not do that? The dinghy occupied the foredeck on the starboard side. We'll try again when the wind is right, but if the wind is light enough to fly the spinnaker, it's light enough to tow the dinghy behind the boat.

No real harm done, other than to the captain's ego. The sailboat ahead seeing our attempt to raise our spinnaker raised his own and sped off. This didn't help the captain's ego.

The good news is that we got our anemometer back. Knowing the wind speed and direction is helpful for maintaining proper sail trim and avoiding dangerous conditions. I have been having an email dialogue with Myles Electronics in Deland, Florida. They sell and repair Brookes and Gatehouse instruments, and I found them on the internet. They sent me directions on testing the masthead sensing unit (tested OK), then in another email an attachment on re-calibrating the control unit. When that didn't help, they suggested a further measure which brought the unit back (after going through the calibration, hold the windspeed button down for at least 10 seconds until the screen goes blank. Voila! I am certainly grateful for their help.

Late in the afternoon, we passed the west end of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel, and officially left the Chesapeake Bay. We passed Hampton Roads, the site of the historic but indecisive battle between the world's first two iron clad warships, the Union Monitor and the Confederate Virginia (renamed from the wooden gunboat, Merrimac, when her sides were armored.

After the week of rough weather on the Chespeake, I wondered how they managed to get the Monitor down to Hampton Roads. It turns out they towed her down from New York City, where she was launched (in Brooklyn) in January, 1862. And they didn't tow her down the Chespeake. An ocean-going tug towed her down the Atlantic and around Cape Charles at the bottom of the Delmarva Peninsula in March, 1862. On the way down, she encountered a storm that sent sea water into her vents and stacks nearly asphyxiating much of her crew.

Union ships were blockading the major Confederate port city of Norfolk, and the Virginia was able to inflict major damage on the wooden warships. When the Monitor arrived, the two warships fired at each other for 4 hours on March 8, 1862, neither able to do significant harm to the other. Eventually, the Union army captured Norfolk, and the Confederates scuttled the Virginia. The Union generals were so impressed by the Monitor's ability to protect blockading warships that they towed her to
North Carolina, where she sank off Cape Hatteras in a storm in December, 1862.

Coming soon to a store near you

Norfolk is the site of a major navy base (boats must remain at least 500 yards from any naval vessels though can come within 100 yards at slow speed). And it still a major world shipping port. You must
look both ahead and behind to make sure no fast-moving tankers are approaching.

Norfolk Shipping Cranes

Large shipping cranes roost on the river banks like so many crouching pterodactyls. I have heard that George Lucas looked at the huge cranes at the Port of Oakland (CA) and used them as models for the giant fighting machines in a later Star Wars movie.









When we left Deltaville this morning, we saw

A relatively calm day as the sun rises

a parade of boats heading south. We were not alone in waiting out the weather, and everyone seems to be leaving at once. When we anchored in small bay south of the Portsmouth Naval Hospital, outside of Norfolk, we found many sailboats already here. I imagine that like us, they are heading south. And I bet the next leg of our journey, the leisurely traverse of the Dismal Swamp into North Carolina, will be a crowded one.

From the Captain

If the wind before the rain, you will soon set sail again. But if the rain before the wind, halyards and topsails mind....Old nautical saying.

St. Michaels and south.

10/6/12  Leeds Creek to St. Michaels Harbor, Higgins Marina 1.2 nm.

I awoke determined to find the source of the electrical problem encountered yesterday, and I think I have found it. I removed and cleaned all the wires connected to the batteries. And I traced the ground wire from the battery to its attachment to the motor. I found the bolt slightly loose. I cleared the contacts there and wrenched down hard on the bolt. On the way over to St. Michaels, the Garmin worked even when the motor idled.

We had called Higgins Marina the day before to reserve a slip and arrived there at noon. In short order, two other Vermont boats arrived: Phil Mozeika and Nancy Zahniser on Emerald Sunset, and Jim Taylor and Barb Potter on Blue Jay. Two other Vermonters, Craig and Donna on Mighty Fine are here also. We are all staying two days because heavy rain and high winds are expected for tomorrow.

Aiden, Jon, Naomi, Veronica and Carol in St. Michaels

Carol and I have another agenda. My niece, Veronica, lives there with her husband, Jon, and their two year old, Aiden. We have not met Jon or Aiden yet. We meet for lunch. My sister, Naomi, drives up from Virginia to join us. Veronica suggests a seafood place on the docks, and we have the best-yet crab cake. She takes us on a walking tour of St. Michaels afterward as Aiden sleeps in the stroller.

We have dinner on Emerald Sunset, and Phil and I talk about checking out the Luna's charging

Phil and Nancy on their sailing catamaran, Emerald Sunset

system in the morning. Phil has nearly everything you could want in the electronic gadget department, and if it were edible, Nancy would know how to cook it.

Sure enough, in the morning, Phil walks over with an ammeter to check the current and voltage from the generator. It checks out. Everything seems to be working. There is a frayed wire going to one of the battery terminals, and I take that to the shop where the mechanic cuts the end off, strips the insulation off a fresh segment of wire, and crimps on a new connector. He does not charge for this part and service.

A day in the marina is a time to do other chores on the boat. I changed the oil in the motor: the engine has run 125 hours since the last time I did it in June. Then Carol and I had some time to walk downtown to the stores before the sky turned black and the rain started.

The storm brings a strong north wind and lots of rain. There is an unusually high tide, and when Veronica came to get us for dinner, the water was nearly up to the docks and 6 inches over the top of the parking lot. We had wet feet when we arrived at her house in Claiborne for a pizza dinner.

October 8. St. Michaels to Oxford, MD 30 nm.

It's a very windy day, and there are small craft advisories on the lake for 15kt north winds gusting to 20 and 3 foot waves. This does not sound excessive for Luna, and with no squalls in the forecast, we decide the north wind would help us get southward. The other Vermonters feel the same, and in the morning we leave for the little harbor of Oxford on the Tred Avon river.

Luna moved right along, running before the wind and seas with her small genoa. The north wind has brought cold weather back, however, so we're anxious to arrive at the harbor. We motor sail the final few miles to the north, rather than tack back and forth against the wind. A dinghy ride into town, a short walk and  a beer in a local tavern with our friends, then back to the boat.

Saying goodbye to the sun in the face of a rainy forecast.

There are lots of marinas in town, and Hinckley, the famous builder of high-quality boats is here, but it is late, and we don't spend a lot of time looking around. We are debating whether to continue south to Solomons tomorrow. Forecast is for strong north winds again and rain. If the rain holds off, we'll probably head out to take advantage of the strong push from behind.

October 9. Oxford to Solomons, MD. 26.9 nm.

Oxford is an historic Maryland town. Originally, with Annapolis, it was one of the only two ports of entry into the colony. British ships would come, laden with trade goods, and load up with tobacco from the large plantations on the rich eastern shore. Matthew Tilghman lived here. He attended the Continental Congress and eventually left to write the laws for the new state of Maryland. He is called the "father of statehood." His nephew, Tench Tilghman, was an aide-de-camp to General Washington and conveyed the articles of surrender from the British general Cornwallis to the Continental Congress.  We rounded Tilghman Island on the way up the Tred Avon River.

Unfortunately, with the revolutionary war victory, the fortunes of Oxford declined, as the British merchant ships no longer entered the harbor. Around the time of the Civil War, the commerce in the town improved as  new techniques to can and preserve oysters, bountiful in the waters of the Chespeake, fostered a prosperous canning and oystering industry. This, too, declined, and now Oxford propers with the recreational boating industry. Tech Tilghman is buried here in the cemetery, and there is a monument to him there.

We didn't see any of that. The weather forecast once again posted small craft warnings and called for 15-30kt northeast winds and rain after 2 pm. We got up early, hoisted and lashed the dinghy onto the foredeck, stopped at a nearby marina at 8am to pump our holding tank and take on water and diesel fuel, and set out for Solomons on the Patuxent River about 30 miles to the south. Our goal was to reach Calvert Marina down there by early afternoon, when the rain was forecast to start. We ran before the strong wind and 3-4 foot seas with jib only, and also ran the motor which increased our speed by a knot. We were making 7-8 knots per hour. Surfing down the waves was like a Vermont sleigh ride. Luna loved it.  We arrived in Solomons about 1:30 pm, just before the rain.

Our friends, Barbie and Jim and Donna and Craig, were already here. They helped us tie up into a slip to await the heavier weather.  Barbie found the marina that, with a discount for BOAT U.S. members, charged only a dollar per foot  ($35 per nite for Luna).Phil and Nancy came in right behind us. Later we gathered for happy hour on Blue Jay. Each boat's supply of beer, wine, and other spirits, is limited, so tradition has it that when you are invited over for happy hour, you bring your own drinks. Carol and I made gin and tonics and joined the group.

Living on a sailboat, we find it interesting and at the same time difficult to travel with power boaters. I am not one of those sailors who has a personal vendetta against power boaters. We enjoy being with our friends. But their boats are commodious and well appointed. By comparison, Luna is small and efficient,  but cramped. It's easy to start to crave more space and fancier quarters. The feelings of envy were assuaged somewhat when they told us what a hard time they had controlling their boats in the following sea down the bay from Oxford. Luna provided an exciting and fast 5 hour sail.

October 10. Solomons , MD

This was another layover day. The wind and rain from last nite continued and is forecast to do so for the next few days. We have a tarp tied over Luna's cabin, and this keeps the rain from the leaky windows to an extent. As it will do, water still finds its way in here and there.

The marina has a courtesy car to lend, so several of us make a trip to the nearby West Marine and a hardware store. I bought a couple 25 foot dock lines. Luna does not generally tie up in slips as she lives on a mooring back home. But I can see how this trip is going, and a couple longer dock lines are necessary. I also bought some instrument cable to renew the wiring to the auto pilot. From the hardware store, I got a couple new battery terminals to replace other frayed ends I found, and two LED lanterns so we don't have to use battery capacity to power our cabin lighting at night. Carol took the car with some of the others and did food shopping.

October 11. Solomons, MD. More rain and wind. We're staying put. There is a stationary low pressure just off the coast, and the counter-clockwise flow of air continues to bring wind from the northeast and more moisture from the ocean. Not like Vermont, for sure, where they say "if you don't like the weather, wait 30 minutes.."  The rain and cold drizzle seem to go on and on.

Another layover day means more time to sort out problems on the boat, and I'm still concerned that our battery capacity isn't what it should be. I took both house batteries off the boat and to the shop at the boat yard for testing: they are fine.  (Captain to marina office: "How can I get the batteries all the way over to the shop?" Marina: "Here are the keys, take our truck."  They are so nice here.)The shop manager said must be a poor connection somewhere. So, back into the port side cockpit locker I dive, pretzel myself into the engine compartment and take out the grounding bolt, which, sure enough, is loose again. They gave me some sand paper at the shop, and I cleaned off the wires going to the bolt. I borrowed the courtesy car again and drove to the hardware store for a longer bolt, tightened that down, and am sure, now, I solved the problem. The engine starts without hesitation. Hopefully, the GPS will not go off intermittently. If you work hard enough, you don't think about the rain.

With all the spare time I start to wonder: what would happen if you took all the boats on the Chesapeake Bay and put them up on land? How far would the level of the bay drop? Luna weighs 13,000 pounds. At a pint a pound and 8 pints to the gallon, she displaces 1625 gallons of water (slightly less for salt water). Multiply that by the bazillion boats we see everywhere we go. That's a lot of water displaced. No wonder the seas are rising. Clearly I have too much time on my hands here.

We do some laundry, and the commander straightens up and cleans the cabin. It's looking pretty nice in here.

The group of eight Vermonters meet in the local cafe for happy hour and decide to push on in the morning. Forecast is for intermittent showers and 10 kt north winds. The bad weather is starting to lift. We'll see. The long range forecast mentions showers for the next 3 days until Tuesday. In the meantime, we have Phil and Nancy over for dinner and make spaghetti with clam sauce.

I'm thinking that with moderating north winds, we might get a chance to fly our asymmetrical spinnaker for the first time tomorrow. Something to think about beside standing at the helm in our yellow slickers.

From the Captain.


I don't know why it is that all of us are committed to the sea, except I think it is because in addition to the fact that the sea changes and the light changes, and ships change, it is because we all came from the sea. And it is an interesting biological fact that all of us have, in our veins the exact same percentage of saline in our blood that exists in the ocean, and therefore, we have salt in our blood, in our sweat, in ours tears. We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch it we are going back from whence we came.

 President John F. Kennedy addressing the America's Cup in 1962

On to St. Michaels

10/3/13. Annapolis Harbor.

I have realized what it is about Georgetown, about the marinas on Worton Creek, and about Annapolis. To a kid who ogles boats, these places are candy stores. And Annapolis is the mother of all candy stores. There are boats everywhere you look.

Count me in among the kids who ogle boats. I love looking at sailboats, and even a well-proportioned power boat grabs my fancy.  Out on the water, there are boats to look at, but not nearly the over-the-top concentration of nautical eye candy as in the sailing ports. If I were an art lover, this would be like waking every morning in the Louvre.

I am not alone in these feelings. Of the aforementioned President Kennedy, Brad and Kim Hampton had this to say in  Boating and Sailing News in 2010:  "Imagine what it might be like to fall in love as a teenager, and to carry that love with you for your lifetime… Something that is so ingrained in you as to become a part of you, and to remain at the very forefront of your thoughts… President John F. Kennedy had such a love, and her name was not Jacqueline, nor was it Marilyn. Her name was, and still is, Victura." This so-called love of his life was the 26-foot sloop her sailed as a younger man. But whether he was sailing Victura, or sailing on Manitou, the 62-foot Sparkman and Stephens presidential yawl he acquired while in office, the iconic pictures of him on the waters around Martha's Vineyard, hair blown back by the wind and eyes fixed on the distant sea, show a man deeply connected to his sailboat.

In Annapolis, boats are everywhere.

I don't think I am quite that smitten, but I look at the curves of hulls, how they sit in the water, the rake and height of the masts, the rigging, the cabin tops and arrangement of port lights, the cockpits, the shape of the bow, the angle of the transom, the length and beam. I go over the wood trim and the general fit and finish of each boat. I even check out the canvas coverings over the cockpits.

Luna has a small canvas dodger covering the companionway hatch and a larger bimini cover shading the helm station. Other boats have clear vinyl awnings covering every square inch of the space in between. This effectively encloses the occupants of the cockpit in a bubble and shields them from sun, wind, and spray. But to my mind, feeling the wind on your face to see its strength and direction, tasting the spray when it hits your lips, getting some good vitamin D-producing sunlight on your skin, and being ever so close to the weather at hand is an integral part of the sailing experience. On the other hand, had you asked the commander and me during our cold night sail down the New Jersey coast whether we would have preferred a better shelter, we'd probably have answered, "You betcha."

Sage advice from the US Naval Academy

Carol's cousin, Jim Hanley, works at the Naval Academy and gave us a tour, which included commentary on much of the history and traditions of the Academy and even a walk around the crypt of John Paul Jones. He got us to the dining hall just at noon where every day, the 4,400 midshipmen (26% are women now) line up on the parade ground in uniform and march into the dining hall. There is a band that provides a drum beat in march time, and as the formations turn for the dining hall, they play Anchors Aweigh.

Considering the psychology of the event, the commander noted, "Poor kids, every time they hear that song, they're going to get hungry."

Carol and Jim Hanley with 4000 hungry midshepmen

Annapolis is busy. From our mooring in the main harbor, we take the dinghy into the public dinghy dock which is partially blocked by large floats to accommodate the boat show. We shoe-horn the dinghy among a dozen others. We enter the town through a narrow walkway constricted  by the administrative boat show trailers. The harbormaster's office with the showers and bathrooms is on the harbor as well and is hidden by ticket booths. As is Phillips Crab House, where we have dinner with some new friends, Bob and Annie, sailing their Catalina 34, Spindrift. We met them in Cape May and have been in email contact since. They are from the Boston area, and the accent brings us back to New England. When we left Annapolis, we gave them our city mooring. By then, moorings were in high demand because of the boat show traffic. We coordinated our coming and going so they picked up the mooring pennant seconds after we dropped it.

Before leaving Annapolis, we met up with an old high school friend of mine who found me on Facebook. She brought us the mail we had forwarded to her, and we went for lunch. She suggested one of her favorite places: The Boatyard. She told us it is rated as one of the ten best sailor bars in the world. It certainly rates high in our book, and we were thrilled to have a second meal there.

After lunch, she directed us to a fish market, and we bought some freshly-caught rock fish (striped bass, the common local catch on the bay) to grill at night, then back to Luna for an afternoon departure to Weems Creek up the Severn River.

Annapolis was busy, and, overstimulated by all the action and all the boats and all the comings and goings, we were happy to motor around to the quiet creek up the Severn that I remembered from earlier days. We had a swim and found the water a little saltier than up north: we're getting closer to the ocean.

10/5/13. Weems Creek to Leeds Creek (St. Michael's, MD) 21.5nm.

We awoke expecting another swim only to find that the incoming tide brought an oil slick that partially covered Weems Creek. After breakfast, we took the dinghy into the nearby public landing and walked a few blocks in West Annapolis to the Great Harvest Bread Company, Naval Bagels, and Graul's supermarket for some provisions. Ahead of me in the grocery line was a man with a Navy shirt buying 6 bottles of bloody mary mix and 12 bags of ice cubes. Today is the Navy vs. Air Force football game, and he is getting ready for the tail gate party. I raise my fist and say, "Go Navy." He nods.

In Annapolis "Go Navy" signs are posted on many of the stores, but I think I saw more references to the boat show. It seems clear to those in Annapolis where the money is. As one plaque for sale in a gift shop noted, "Annapolis is a drinking town with a sailing problem."

Motoring past the Thomas Point Light House

Time to move on. The day was another hot, muggy, windless one. We haven't had a really decent sailing day since the Atlantic run more than a week ago. We motored across the bay, past the classic lighthouse at Thomas Point, the less well known light that marks Bloody Point, and up the Miles River toward St. Michaels. This is another popular sailing town and usually quite busy on weekends, so our goal was a quiet creek across the river. We anchored in a small cove on Leeds Creek. The air temperature was more than 90 degrees, and we were anxious for a swim. However, we soon discovered the scourge of Chesapeake Bay swimmers had beat us to the cove. Sea nettles, those white jelly fish with long tentacles that hover just beneath the surface and issue a painful sting on contact, were there. These are the first we've seen since entering the Chesapeake, and perhaps this will be the end of swimming for a while. Or maybe we can find other creeks where the water is more brackish and the nettles don't penetrate.

We're having an electrical problem with Luna. When the motor is idling, the voltage swings and the GPS goes off. Luna's two house batteries don't seem to supply the power to run the instruments. Leeds Creek is shallow in places, and we rely on the Garmin for accurate depth readings. It goes out just as we enter a shallow cove, but we manage to stay in the channel and set the anchor in 8 to 10 feet of water, which is fine. We will spend the next two days at a marina in St. Michaels. Our friends Phil and Nancy, now about 25 miles away in Rock Hall, will meet us there. I'm sure Phil will help me sort this out, and if not, the staff at the marina is available on Monday morning.

Annapolis Harbor at sunrise: like a painting

From the Captain

Heading south on the Chesapeake

September 29, 2013

Luna has been tied up at the Tidewater Marina in Havre de Grace, Maryland, for the past two days while we visited my sister and her family in Virginia. Tidewater has the best showers I think we'll ever find. Clean, roomy, plenty of hot water, and pressure that feels like it could knock you over. I imagine of all the things we will learn to appreciate on this trip, the well-appointed shower will top the list.

Havre de Grace is at the mouth of the Susquehanna River. The guidebook notes that the Chesapeake Bay is actually a "drowned river," the entire body of water representing the mighty Susquehanna's exit pathway to the Atlantic. At one time, Havre de Grace was a center of commerce for goods coming down river from central Pennsylvania on the way to Baltimore, a major port at the time. There are remnants of an old post road that connected Philadelphia and New york with Washington and the southern colonies. George Washington actually did sleep here. Havre de Grace also figured prominently in the War of 1812, when the British fleet attacked and burned the town on their way further south. Things seem much quieter here now.

Enjoying a crab cake lunch on the banks of the Susquehanna

After returning from Virginia this noon time, we have our first Maryland crabcake sandwich at the Tidewater restaurant, right on the water. Four stars here. I'm sure the crabmeat is very fresh. On the way over from the Bohemia, we were dodging buoys marking crab traps whenever we strayed from the marked channel.

Since we have the rental car, we do some shopping and walk around the town. People are friendly here. Carol stops by a community garden and talks with a woman, a Canadian ex-pat, and walks away with a bag of home-grown tomatoes. Down at the maritime museum and lighthouse on the southern end of town, a woman who volunteers at the museum says she came to town from the Boston area 10 years ago intending to retire further south. "I crossed the bridge, and I never left," she says. "People are really friendly here, and everyone knows your name. Sort of like Mayberry." Sort of like Vermont, we think.

Tomorrow, before returning the car, we will visit a local sea food shop suggested to us by the community gardener. We'll buy something to grill in the evening, then depart for the Sassafras River.

September 30 Havre de Grace, MD, to Sassafras River, Woodland Creek 15.5 nm.

We left Havre de Grace on a windless day. The bay was as smooth as glass. Good for motoring, but it would be nice to be able to sail again. Our goal was Georgetown, Maryland, a boating center noted for its marinas and services for boaters. We didn't need any particular services, but thought it would be fun to see. We anchored in a small creek about a mile downstream of the small town.

The commander enjoys a swim in Woodland Creek

The day was warm and sunny. For the first time since the Hudson River, we had a swim. The water was cool, but not cold by Vermont standards, and brackish. It was delightful. The water here has a brownish hue, and treading water, I couldn't see below my waist. In our bay on Lake Champlain, except for certain times of the year, you can usually see your feet when upright in the water.

Perhaps the water is turbulent from the tides and currents, and that affects clarity. We saw many houses on the way up the river, large places with big lawns that went right down to the water. Others had beneficial buffer zones of trees and vegetation that would keep sediments, phosphates, and other chemicals from reaching the waterway. I'm not sure of the level of awareness of water quality down here on the Chesapeake. It is high in Vermont. Lake Champlain still suffers.

Several bass boats passed us. These are the low flat ones with big motors, and they go fast. They have a raised seat in the front where the fisherman can sit and control the electric trolling motor with a foot pedal while he casts. Like the ones on TV, these boats are all tricked out. Considering their cost and the fuel burned, the price per fish caught must be enormous, but, of course, the catch is only part of the story. I asked one guy who was fishing around the docks of the marina what he was fishing for. He said, "Large-mouth bass."

I recall earlier days when my father used to wake me at 5 am with the annoyingly effective trick of tickling my ear with a piece of string. This feels like a fly is landing on your face. We'd be out before dawn and once at the fishing place would rent a SMALL boat, a rowboat or perhaps one with a small outboard. We'd go out, not too far, and spend the hours casting our lures and retrieving them, much like the wannabe bass masters. And with the same hopeful and sorry result.

Lunch aboard Luna

We grill the shrimp we bought in Havre de Grace with some tomatoes, onions, and peppers, and make shrimp fajitas for dinner. (Shrimp is not local to the Chesapeake Bay, but the pound of fresh back fin crabmeat we bought was. That served us for two meals: a crab salad with avocado and tomato lunch and a crabcake dinner.) The commander and I discuss our course over the past few days. We have been taking our time doodling around the upper bay, but have not made much progress to the south We decide we should be more directed toward our goal, especially as the weather is bound to turn colder up here before long. Tomorrow, we'll take another short journey to a quiet cove not too far away. But then, we'll head under the Bay Bridge to Annapolis and points south. Luckily, there is still time to visit interesting places along the way. We'll just start to make sure they're a little further apart.

a hopeful gull stands guard at dinner time

October 1, Woodland Creek to Worton Creek 14.9nm
October 2, Worton Creek to Annapolis 23.6nm.

Worton Creek is a quiet little place with a wide mouth that offers a sandy bottom good for anchoring and protection from north and east winds. There is no wind tonight, so we anchored out in the mouth. We swam and watched the sunset. It was warm enough to sit out on the deck at night and watch night fall. This is a first for this trip.

Worton Creek boasts three marinas. The place is literally full of boats. The furthest one up is the Worton Creek Marina that can fill our propane tank. It's not empty, but we have never filled it and don't know its level. We'd hate to run out in some remote spot. Drawing on past experience, we had them pump the holding tank, too. Actually, not only past experience. The water tank I built on the port side has been leaking and a plumbing joint has failed. Last night, I pumped its contents into a bucket. I'm hassled by this, and instead of emptying the bucket into the starboard side tank, I open the deck fitting for the holding tank without thinking and dump it in there, followed by two other bucketsful like it.

Marina people seem invariably nice and helpful. Marinas are like an oasis while traveling on a watery desert. They have stores, bathrooms, water, fuel, pump outs (usually), advice, friendly conversation. The Worton Creek Marina is no exception.

As we leave Worton Creek, a west wind picks up, and we hoist the sails and have a nice ride. Eventually, the wind dies back, and we turn toward the west, into the wind, and we start the motor and motor sail for a bit. We furl the jib when we do. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge comes into view, and a couple hours later, we sail under it.

Sailing under the Chesapeake Bay Bridge

This is an emotional experience for me. This is where I learned to sail at the age of 15 or so. My father and I took a navigation and boat-handling course from the US Power Squadron followed by a course on sailing. My folks bought an Alberg 30 sloop and hired an instructor from the Naval Academy to come on the boat with us to teach the practical side of sailing. He taught us to heel over far enough to wet the lee rail and revel in the excitement of it, to anticipate changes in wind force and direction, to tack and to gybe, to set the sails correctly for each point of sailing. I ate it up.

The boat, Carnival Lady, (from a name shouted after my mother at some Caribbean Island my parents visited) lived in Annapolis, and we sailed under the  Bay Bridge and to places  across the bay and to the south. It's been nearly  50 years since I've made this trip.

We motored past the Naval Academy into Annapolis. We found a public mooring ball right off the public dock downtown on Spa Creek. It was as I remembered it, except all the boats are much bigger. And there are lots more of them. Actually, there are a whole lot more of them. The annual powerboat show starts tomorrow and the sailboat show the week after. Lots of people are in town to check out what's new in boats and equipment for boats.The town is buzzing.

The captain with oysters, crab soup and a beer. Don't get much better

We  took the dinghy into the public dock and walked across the Spa Creek drawbridge into Eastport, where the Alberg 30 had her slip. We found an informal looking restaurant, The Boatyard. We were in luck: happy-hour prices. We had a dozen oysters, a cup of crab soup and a pint (two) of the local beer. On the way back, we had ice cream cones in a home-made ice cream place on Main St. I am in heaven.