Last weekend we were planning on going to Ocracoke. We had even invited some friends to go with us. Luckily for them, they had 'other plans'.
We got to the boat at about 1130, and were ready to depart at 1230. The forecast was for winds 10-15 from the NE throughout the weekend. As Ocracoke is precisely NE from our dock, this would mean tacking, or motoring, the whole day. It was blowing about 5-10 at the dock, just as we expected.
But when we got out into the open waters of the Neuse, it was more like 15-20, with gusts to 25. And the 'Pamlico Chop' was a frenzy of short interval, steep sided swells that would, depending on our direction, roll the boat from rail-to-rail or pound the boat with shuddering crashes as we popped from up on one wave to down on the next. So we decided to go in the one direction where the chop didn't matter so much--southwest.
We headed into one of our favorite Neuse River anchorages, the South River, sailing at 6 knots in 20 knots of wind (real sailors would tell you the TRUE wind, but I can only give you the APPARENT wind, sigh) with only about 60% of the genoa out, and no main.
This time we checked the anchor set twice, as we didn't want to be dragging in these winds. We were enjoying ourselves, but were glad not to have to cater to guests in this unsettled weather. We still weren't sure what we would do the next day, but sailing to Oriental for the day was a popular alternative.
Until, that is, it rained all night and the forecast for all of Saturday was more of the same. The wind was still forecast at 15-20 knots. The waves were still forecast at 2-3 feet (size isn't everything, those nasty waves from yesterday were only "2-3 feet" as well). We headed back to the dock, and while still raining and blowing, it seemed calm and quiet compared to the soup-bowl out on the Neuse.
We DROVE to Oriental in the rain, and arrived happy and dry at the Bean for our ice cream and coffee. I immediately pulled out my ipod touch, checked the stock market results for Friday (bad, but I still had a few dollars in my retirement account) and then checked out Harbor Cam at towndock.net and there was our car parked on Hodges Street! And there we were walking up to the Bean in our yellow rain jackets! Instant gratification.
The rest of the weekend was spent accomplishing chores of no great interest, except for the winch maintenance. It's hard to call it maintenance when we've had the boat for over three years and this is the first time we have delved into the winches.
We have 7 winches, 2 Barient 28s as secondaries and 2 Barient 18s on the mast that were original equipment. That means they are 20 years old. The primaries and main are self tailing Lewmars. Bob decided to tackle the Barient 28's first.
Sunday morning was MUCH nicer, occassional sprinkles, and finally, some blue skies. Which was good, because the winch disassembly was much harder than anticipated. At one point we had most of our neighbors over watching as we used the crowbar to pry off the winch insides. These are big, sturdy winches, and if that part had suddenly come loose...it would have made a big splash. If that had happened, I'm sure we would have replaced them with smaller, self tailing winches, because, you know, size isn't everything.
At last, with lots of effort and lots of PB Blaster, we got both Barients partly disassembled. Our neighbor checked out the B28 schematic online, and sure enough, those parts that looked welded together were just RUSTED together. We decided to work on separating these pieces once we were at home.
While we (mostly Bob) worked on the winches, our neighbors Josh and his dad Terry, taking a 'boys weekend', having finished their replacement of the exhaust system on their boat, had taken up fishing from the dock. Earlier, we had seen real fishermen, in real fishing boats, hanging around our dock claiming to have caught sizable fish (to them, size WAS everything).
All Josh and Terry caught were pinfish. Granted, some of these pinfish were whoppers, 4-5" long. At one point, the two got into a discussion over who had caught the smallest fish ever. Some of them were really, really small. This was just sportfishing--catch and release only--once again, size isn't everything. Except when the fish was so small they could hardly get the hook out of it's mouth. When we left, Terry was rummaging around in his lazarette. "I'm sure I've got a fighting harness in here somewhere".
The sun was shining as we left Aquila for another two weeks at home. Hopefully the next fall weekend will be more like fall and less like winter, but since we will be putting the winches back together, maybe the weather is irrelevant.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Bonnie (and Buggy) Bonner Bay
This was just a short weekend trip, out on Saturday and back on Sunday. We sailed almost all the way there--out Broad Creek, down the Neuse River, up the Bay River then into Bonner Bay, even though at times we were only traveling at 2 knots.
The Bay is mostly surrounded by marshlands, with some trees to the east and south. On our previous trip to this bay, there was a strong northerly, while this time we expected a weak southerly. It is a good anchorage for either condition. Except for the holding on the bottom, but more on that later. After two tries, we got the anchor set, inflated the kayak and Abby and I took off exploring the marsh.
From the anchorage, we paddled into a smaller bay. The grass around the edge are about 3 feet high, and with the water still up from the non-storm last week, the grass appears to be floating. Abby found a small canal, and we first thought we should paddle backwards up the canal as it was too small to turn around. We immediately realized two things (1) we can't kayak backwards and (2)we can GO backwards in a kayak by just...turning around! We paddled as far as we could, then stood up in the kayak to see that we were surrounded by pale yellow grass, with the mast to our north seemingly sticking up right out of the grass.
And then the mosquitos found us. We paddled as fast as we could down the canal, out the small bay, across the big bay, tied up to the stanchion, climbed the ladder and rushed inside to find the insect repellent. The mosquitos came out in force just before sunset and we retreated to the cabin for dessert.
The next morning was a work time--Bob worked on the forward running lights, I worked on the binnacle cover, Abby polished some stainless, then some of the boat hull. Abby and Bob went on another kayak exploration, and when they returned we prepared to leave.
Bob came up from below, took a quick look around and shouted, "we're dragging". He started the engine and put it in forward and slowly moved back to the center of the channel. We had dragged about 200 yards. When Bob went forward to pull up the anchor, he said there was no resistance at all.
We hypothesize that when the wind shifted to come from the east (a direction it was NOT forecast to come from) and picked up to 15+ knots, the anchor turned and was unable to reset in the grassy bottom. The evidence for the grassy bottom was (1) the two tries to set the anchor in the first place, and (2) the occassional blanks from the depth sounder. No harm done, but we will be more cautious (and maybe even dive the anchor) if we stay here again.
The Bay is mostly surrounded by marshlands, with some trees to the east and south. On our previous trip to this bay, there was a strong northerly, while this time we expected a weak southerly. It is a good anchorage for either condition. Except for the holding on the bottom, but more on that later. After two tries, we got the anchor set, inflated the kayak and Abby and I took off exploring the marsh.
From the anchorage, we paddled into a smaller bay. The grass around the edge are about 3 feet high, and with the water still up from the non-storm last week, the grass appears to be floating. Abby found a small canal, and we first thought we should paddle backwards up the canal as it was too small to turn around. We immediately realized two things (1) we can't kayak backwards and (2)we can GO backwards in a kayak by just...turning around! We paddled as far as we could, then stood up in the kayak to see that we were surrounded by pale yellow grass, with the mast to our north seemingly sticking up right out of the grass.
And then the mosquitos found us. We paddled as fast as we could down the canal, out the small bay, across the big bay, tied up to the stanchion, climbed the ladder and rushed inside to find the insect repellent. The mosquitos came out in force just before sunset and we retreated to the cabin for dessert.
The next morning was a work time--Bob worked on the forward running lights, I worked on the binnacle cover, Abby polished some stainless, then some of the boat hull. Abby and Bob went on another kayak exploration, and when they returned we prepared to leave.
Bob came up from below, took a quick look around and shouted, "we're dragging". He started the engine and put it in forward and slowly moved back to the center of the channel. We had dragged about 200 yards. When Bob went forward to pull up the anchor, he said there was no resistance at all.
We hypothesize that when the wind shifted to come from the east (a direction it was NOT forecast to come from) and picked up to 15+ knots, the anchor turned and was unable to reset in the grassy bottom. The evidence for the grassy bottom was (1) the two tries to set the anchor in the first place, and (2) the occassional blanks from the depth sounder. No harm done, but we will be more cautious (and maybe even dive the anchor) if we stay here again.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Next year...Carib 1500?
It's hard to believe, but we just might try this again. I cant' quite decide if we are foolish or brave. The idea this time is to take off the end of October 2009 with the Caribbean 1500, perhaps from Charleston (that really makes it the Carib 1300, but don't tell the big boats that, OK?) Then we'd leave Aquila in the BVI for the winter and sail back up with the Atlantic Cup in 2010. Should we? Could we? Only time will tell...
I really don't want to give up the idea of cruising. It scares the crap out of me. Sailing the oceans. Sailing in general! And I still want to do it. Maybe...maybe someday...maybe someday we can even do the whole thing. Circumnavigate, that is. Around the whole world. I'm thinking about it, really. Thinking.
I really don't want to give up the idea of cruising. It scares the crap out of me. Sailing the oceans. Sailing in general! And I still want to do it. Maybe...maybe someday...maybe someday we can even do the whole thing. Circumnavigate, that is. Around the whole world. I'm thinking about it, really. Thinking.
The Ocracoke Summer
Each summer since we got Aquila, we have developed a nickname for that year. The first summer was, the first summer (how original is that?). The next summer was Bermuda. Summer of 2007 was The Whale. And 2008? It's the ocracoke summer. We went there for Labour Day and for Fourth of July, and we hope to make it at least one more time.
One of our best, and most memorable trips to Ocracoke occurred the first year we had the boat. We used to only imagine sailing to Ocracoke, and never ever imagined we would sail beyond the shore. Ocracoke still holds a special place in our hearts as the first achievement in becoming 'cruisers'.
It was November, so we left the dock before daylight so we could get to Silver Lake before the sun set. The sail over was easy, not too cold, not too breezy. It was a little rough, and I learned that the seasickness remedy of the electro-band really can work. The Pamlico Sound is shallow, and a steady breeze can really work up a sea--the Pamlico chop is well known for it's steep sides and short intervals.
Abby was just learning to ride a bike--so after docking at the NPS docks (as usual in the winter, we had the place to ourselves), we rented bikes at the Pony Motel in what has now become a tradition.
We were hoping to eat out one night, but when we tried questioning someone who appeared to be a local at the fishing docks, we weren't sure if anything was even open! It might have been the dialect/accent, it might have been that there really wasn't anything open. Either way, we enjoyed our meal on the boat and saved some money, too.
The most remarkable part of this trip was during our departure from the Island. Again, we left before sunup. The light in the Ocracoke Lighthouse (circe 1823, second oldest operating in the US) was still lit. As we left the harbour, we saw hundreds of low flying cormorants. It appeared they were migrating, to and from where we did not know. Wave after wave of cormorants as we motored out the channel usually occupied by ferries and sailboats. The dredge islands were used as brief wayside stops on the cormorant-train. It was one of the most remarkable sights I have even seen.
I have since learned that this type of 'migration' is unusual. Some years there are hundreds of thousands of birds in this migration. Other years, there are only a couple thousand. (It could just be that no one has counted the cormorants every year. I don't know.)
This year, we have done a few other trips as well, taking our dockmaster and dockmistress on a day trip to Cape Lookout (which was a blast, thanks Paul and Mitzi!), and an overnight on the South River. That overnight was memorable because we finally overcame our fear of jellyfish and just jumped off the boat at the anchorage and swam around. We have often done this while at Cape Lookout, but the Pamlico Sound?? While sailing we have seen schools of jellyfish (do they travel in schools/ herds/piles? whatever, there were millions, nay, billions of jellyfish!). But we spent a few hours in the water, and no one got stung, or even saw a jellyfish.
Earlier in this blog, I mentioned that NC is the REAL Virgnina, having been christened Virginia after the Virgin Queen Elizabeth when the Lost Colony was settled on Roanoke Island. Well, today, I found out that not only are we VIRGINIA, we are also CHINA. Apparently, when G. da Verrazano (NYers will recognize this name from the bridge) came up the NC coast in 1524, he could not find a way through the channels in the various inlets leading from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pamlico Sound, and he concluded that the Sound was in fact the Pacific Ocean, which would make Oriental--well, the Orient! Isn't that cool? The story goes that it took cartographers over 100 years to correct Verrazanos little mistake, until then the geography must have been something like (east to west) Atlantic Ocean, Outer Banks, Pacific Ocean, China, Russia, Europe. I wonder how true this story is...
One of our best, and most memorable trips to Ocracoke occurred the first year we had the boat. We used to only imagine sailing to Ocracoke, and never ever imagined we would sail beyond the shore. Ocracoke still holds a special place in our hearts as the first achievement in becoming 'cruisers'.
It was November, so we left the dock before daylight so we could get to Silver Lake before the sun set. The sail over was easy, not too cold, not too breezy. It was a little rough, and I learned that the seasickness remedy of the electro-band really can work. The Pamlico Sound is shallow, and a steady breeze can really work up a sea--the Pamlico chop is well known for it's steep sides and short intervals.
Abby was just learning to ride a bike--so after docking at the NPS docks (as usual in the winter, we had the place to ourselves), we rented bikes at the Pony Motel in what has now become a tradition.
We were hoping to eat out one night, but when we tried questioning someone who appeared to be a local at the fishing docks, we weren't sure if anything was even open! It might have been the dialect/accent, it might have been that there really wasn't anything open. Either way, we enjoyed our meal on the boat and saved some money, too.
The most remarkable part of this trip was during our departure from the Island. Again, we left before sunup. The light in the Ocracoke Lighthouse (circe 1823, second oldest operating in the US) was still lit. As we left the harbour, we saw hundreds of low flying cormorants. It appeared they were migrating, to and from where we did not know. Wave after wave of cormorants as we motored out the channel usually occupied by ferries and sailboats. The dredge islands were used as brief wayside stops on the cormorant-train. It was one of the most remarkable sights I have even seen.
I have since learned that this type of 'migration' is unusual. Some years there are hundreds of thousands of birds in this migration. Other years, there are only a couple thousand. (It could just be that no one has counted the cormorants every year. I don't know.)
This year, we have done a few other trips as well, taking our dockmaster and dockmistress on a day trip to Cape Lookout (which was a blast, thanks Paul and Mitzi!), and an overnight on the South River. That overnight was memorable because we finally overcame our fear of jellyfish and just jumped off the boat at the anchorage and swam around. We have often done this while at Cape Lookout, but the Pamlico Sound?? While sailing we have seen schools of jellyfish (do they travel in schools/ herds/piles? whatever, there were millions, nay, billions of jellyfish!). But we spent a few hours in the water, and no one got stung, or even saw a jellyfish.
Earlier in this blog, I mentioned that NC is the REAL Virgnina, having been christened Virginia after the Virgin Queen Elizabeth when the Lost Colony was settled on Roanoke Island. Well, today, I found out that not only are we VIRGINIA, we are also CHINA. Apparently, when G. da Verrazano (NYers will recognize this name from the bridge) came up the NC coast in 1524, he could not find a way through the channels in the various inlets leading from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pamlico Sound, and he concluded that the Sound was in fact the Pacific Ocean, which would make Oriental--well, the Orient! Isn't that cool? The story goes that it took cartographers over 100 years to correct Verrazanos little mistake, until then the geography must have been something like (east to west) Atlantic Ocean, Outer Banks, Pacific Ocean, China, Russia, Europe. I wonder how true this story is...
End of trip trip across the North Island
So, it's true. The North Island of NZ, being warmer (this was a very hard thing for a Northern Hemispherian to adapt to--the idea that NORTH is WARM and SOUTH is COLD), does really have more boats. We loved the east cost up through the Coromandel, and all of us enjoyed our stay in Auckland. We got to take the ferry across the Cook Straits to Wellington, and stayed in a hotel overlooking the harbour there. Rotorua (where we got to take a ride on a SEAplane), the Coromandel and it's beautiful bays, and then Auckland. Where we got to join the other tourists for a 2 hour-tour on a retired America's Cup boat. THAT was a blast. I even got to go into the pit to pull in the spinnaker. How many people get to do that in their lifetimes, huh? Expensive, but well worth it.
Flying home was both sad and exciting. Maybe next time we get to NZ we will be in our own boat. Another dream come true!
Flying home was both sad and exciting. Maybe next time we get to NZ we will be in our own boat. Another dream come true!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Spring on the Pamlico
We're not home yet, and it's fall here in New Zealand, but we are really looking forward to spring in NC. We expect to back at the boat the first weekend in May, and hopefully we will only have to turn the key, and vroom, off we'll go.
Actually, even if we end up just working on the boat all weekend, I am really looking forward to getting back to the boat.
We've been on one charter since we arrived here, and will be going on another one this weekend. But here on the South Island, boating is not a big deal. We have heard, but have no first hand evidence, that the North Island is where all the boating action is. We will see in 4 weeks when we head up there for our end of trip trip.
Actually, even if we end up just working on the boat all weekend, I am really looking forward to getting back to the boat.
We've been on one charter since we arrived here, and will be going on another one this weekend. But here on the South Island, boating is not a big deal. We have heard, but have no first hand evidence, that the North Island is where all the boating action is. We will see in 4 weeks when we head up there for our end of trip trip.
Friday, January 11, 2008
What we didn't tell you...
In October, just before we left for New Zealand, we brought Aquila home. Everything worked fine, and the trip was utterly uneventful. Except for getting 'blown' up on that log.
Just a mile down the ICW below where we hit the "LOG" that ruined our prop. rudder and strut is a bridge. After we left the Atlantic Yacht Basin, we motored up to the bridge, and took our place in line behind a power boat and in front of two mega yachts. The bridge tender called to us on Channel 13 (is there information in this number?) to tell us he had commercial traffic coming through and we needed to keep clear. In regular language, this means a barge gets to come through the bridge FIRST after it opens and we peons need to stay out of it's way. We dutifully headed to starboard as far as we were comfortable, which was just inside a pile of logs with a small tree growing out of it.
The barge came through at full speed, putting up quite a wake, which lifted Aquila and pushed her to starboard, and, you guessed it, right on the pile of logs. Damn.
Always aware Captain Bob carefully put her in reverse, and carefully revved the engine, backing Aquila up. Of course, as the barge was RIGHT BEHIND US, he was backing right in to a speeding (well maybe 10 knots!) barge. The barge honked, the other boats looked confused, and Bob backed in a complete circle, forcing his way back in line to get through that blasted bridge.
Many hours of motoring later, we arrived at our campsite, or anchorage, for the night, just south of the end of the Albemarle-Pungo Canal. We joined several other boats, both power and sail, just as the sun was setting.
As I was cleaning up after dinner, Bob said "You gotta see this."
I came up to the cockpit, and he pointed at another recent arrival. I squinted, but couldn't see anything. "Should I get the binoculars?" I asked in my normal voice, not quite understanding the need for secrecy.
"NO. SHHHH." He pointed again toward the man sunbathing on his foredeck. "He's naked."
All the more reason, I thought, to get out the binoculars.
Just a mile down the ICW below where we hit the "LOG" that ruined our prop. rudder and strut is a bridge. After we left the Atlantic Yacht Basin, we motored up to the bridge, and took our place in line behind a power boat and in front of two mega yachts. The bridge tender called to us on Channel 13 (is there information in this number?) to tell us he had commercial traffic coming through and we needed to keep clear. In regular language, this means a barge gets to come through the bridge FIRST after it opens and we peons need to stay out of it's way. We dutifully headed to starboard as far as we were comfortable, which was just inside a pile of logs with a small tree growing out of it.
The barge came through at full speed, putting up quite a wake, which lifted Aquila and pushed her to starboard, and, you guessed it, right on the pile of logs. Damn.
Always aware Captain Bob carefully put her in reverse, and carefully revved the engine, backing Aquila up. Of course, as the barge was RIGHT BEHIND US, he was backing right in to a speeding (well maybe 10 knots!) barge. The barge honked, the other boats looked confused, and Bob backed in a complete circle, forcing his way back in line to get through that blasted bridge.
Many hours of motoring later, we arrived at our campsite, or anchorage, for the night, just south of the end of the Albemarle-Pungo Canal. We joined several other boats, both power and sail, just as the sun was setting.
As I was cleaning up after dinner, Bob said "You gotta see this."
I came up to the cockpit, and he pointed at another recent arrival. I squinted, but couldn't see anything. "Should I get the binoculars?" I asked in my normal voice, not quite understanding the need for secrecy.
"NO. SHHHH." He pointed again toward the man sunbathing on his foredeck. "He's naked."
All the more reason, I thought, to get out the binoculars.
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