Just a few rude, but short, videos of the time spent in the Mobjack area this week. I’ll endeavor to devote more time editing. Not there yet.
Enjoy!
Just east of Whittaker Creek off Severn River.
Whittaker Creek
And the next morning.
Just a few rude, but short, videos of the time spent in the Mobjack area this week. I’ll endeavor to devote more time editing. Not there yet.
Enjoy!
Just east of Whittaker Creek off Severn River.
Whittaker Creek
And the next morning.
About a month ago I got an invitation to go sailing. I said, “Yes”. Had I known the conditions would be cold, wet and blowing, I may have reconsidered. I’m glad I had only suspicions as the time. Romping along the Eastern Shore’s Choptank was a blast. We sailed on my buddy Kevin’s Catalina Capri 22 “Big T”, a nice design and good sail-er. We met up meet up with Phil, Doug and his Cornish Shrimper “Tidings”. The sheltered harbor had pleasure and work boats that caught our eye. The mix provides the town with a nice feel.
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| the schooner “Adventure” |
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| Adventure again |
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| Skipjack |
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| Harbor mural |
Outside the breakwater entrance, winds were a steady 20-24 mph with gusts near 30. The sail was lively. Anxioous to see how Big T sailed, I hogged the tiller all the way into the Tred Avon where Tidings tried to overtake us under full motor, but alas Big T turned her head and rolled on ahead and turned the corner past Oxford’s Strand to visit Cutts and Case Boatyard up the creek there. One of the Cutts brothers, Ronnie, loaned us his truck to shop for track slides that had blown out earlier in the day. We took our time studying the many beautiful old wooden boats there.
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| A Ralph Wiley design |
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| the piers |
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| Fine catboat with inboard rudder |
Heading back out the creek, we passed the motorboat Tidings again and sailed up the Tred Avon to Easton. Big T reached along.
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| motorboat “Tidings” |
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| workboat at speed |
We rafted up for a good dinner by Chef Doug. An after dinner snoot warmed us enough to shove off and anchor for the night. It was still blowing good. The next morning we found ourselves aground 100-150 yards downwind. Motoring failed to release the bottom, so we raised sail, hung from the shrouds and with a buff had enough healing moment to slip away. Breakfast was back rafted. Hot coffee was welcomed. A decision was to sail over to the Little Choptank. That was the last we saw of Doug, ship and crew.
Over canvassed with the only reef in the main and a small jib we bashed into the Choptank. Soon we dropped the jib to carry on. With those 30 mph blows, we still had too much sail.
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| Choptank bashing |
After a couple hours of wet and wild, we cracked off to head into San Domingo Creek. Since we never saw Doug and Phil venture out, we figured they had abandoned the plan early. Later Kevin was phoned that the journey had been made. We’ve yet to be given proof. It was a subject that kept Kevin awake throughout the night. I half thought he was ready to raise sail and go verify.
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| Back of St. Michaels |
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| Workboats there |
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| Good scenes |
We touched bottom a couple times before settling on an anchorage. The sunset was quick and the cold dropped on us. I can’t recall what we had for dinner other than pumpkin pie. We retreated to sleeping bags and were likely out by 20:00. We did awake around midnight to have another taste of pie and yacked for maybe an hour. The likelihood of Doug and Phil getting to the Little Choptank without our noticing was of course revisited. Two deserts in one night is a good deal and aided in crashing until sunrise.
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| Early morn |
Hot coffee and biscuits the next morning started us off as we had a wonderful early morning beat back down the creek into the Choptank and rolled home on a reach.
Born and raised in Norfolk, VA, I watched a recent video of the town’s recent “reinvention” with much interest. One fellow in the film comments that the town has been burned to the ground twice. It is its military and transportation significance that has drawn such attention. Norfolk’s Naval Base and Air Station is reputed to be the world’s largest. The first burning was led by Loyalist Governor Lord Dunmore who, with his three ships, shelled the city, destroying 800 buildings (or 2/3’s of the city). The Patriots then burned the balance of their town (that’s commitment), leaving only the walls of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church standing. A cannonball remains today in one of the church walls. That razing was on New Years of 1776. In 1804 a second destruction resulted from fire breaking out along the waterfront. Some 300 buildings were lost then. One could argue that a third destruction has been ongoing since then as Norfolk is landlocked by the Elizabeth River, Hampton Roads and the Chesapeake Bay. Recent history has forced choosing between what to keep and what to let go. The town is confined to a footprint that cannot expand. However, neighbors Portsmouth and Chesapeake may raise objections to that statement as all three push to grow and prosper in the region.
This black and white film drew nostalgia for my hometown and though I’ve lived away from Norfolk for too many years, I still consider her home. As I viewed familiar sights and heard names with nostalgia, the sails of a small yawl briefly slid across the screen. I immediately recognized them belonging to Steve Early’s “Spartina” and forwarded the video to him for viewing. He posted it with more comments in his blog. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
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| Spartina graces the Elizabeth River. |
For the two days before Thanksgiving, my daughter and I took what may be the last overnight in Luna as the season is closing. We had intended to start Monday, but weather (freezing temps) and schedules weren’t encouraging.
To make the “log” short, we left the slip under sail on a gentle WSW breeze, slipped down River, crossed Mobjack, and nosed into Browns Bay. Our dinghy Gigi was in tow.
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| crossing Mobjack |
Lunch was a good ale and turkey wraps prepped by “Matey”.
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| ale |
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| galley work |
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| wrap |
The late Fall sun was low and brilliant, coloring the marsh grasses and evergreen pines. Once in Browns Bay, distracted by the view, we nudged Luna onto a mud bank as the ebb tide was 30 minutes from low. Two sailors on the bow and a winding outboard weren’t sufficient to push the long keel towards deeper water. Pulling out the 16# claw, I rowed out 75 yards to set the anchor.
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| off to kedge an anchor * |
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| laying the rode * |
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| return trip * |
Back at the boat, a firm tug on the rode set us free. Shortening the line, we decided to anchor for the evening. We had a good evening listening to music and watching the sun set.

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| patina |
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| dinghy, be still. |
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| rising moon |
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| Matey |
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| jet trails |
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| silhouette * |
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| a hat in the making * |
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| outside Pepper Creek |
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| Pepper Creek entrance |
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| guard dog * |
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| no wind * |
The breeze freshens once we leave the creek. We raise all sails and pass a boat “drudging” for oysters as we begin the beat up into the East River home.
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| “drudging” and cat napping |
Happy Thanksgiving!
If you hadn’t gathered, we typically sleep either in the bottom of our boats, or in a tent, and are forever rolling over because the sleeping bag has you notted up once again. Therefore, it can be quite disorienting to sail all day, enjoy cocktails, have a marvelous meal prepared for you and find yourself waking up in a queen sized bed. However, it was so for the inaugural cruise of The Old Bay Club. We’re basically a confederation of not so daring sailors who love their comforts and detest rules. Why Harris and Barbara were so gracious to open up their beautiful home to this motley crew, I’ll never know. For 2 1/2 days we were allowed to stay at their “bed and breakfast”. To come home rested after a great weekend of sailing was an unusual pleasure.
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| Our hosts and fellow club members: Barbara and Harris in their Caledonia Yawl Mabu. |
From their place on the James River we 4 boats sailed downriver to see replicas of the three ships that began the settlement of the colony.
Our voyage was not so world changing nor daring, but we did complete ours successfully. Winds were westerly for an off wind sail to and an easy 2-3 tacks home to weather. We practically hit the tidal current perfectly coming and going. Fall’s colors were near peak and the winds fairly gentle. Very nice.
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| UNA pushing the fleet. |
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| skipper |
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| 1st mate |
The sail downstream was maybe 1 1/2 hrs. We beached just upstream from the Jamestown ferry to stretch and have lunch.
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| Some of the gang. |
Here’s an interesting contrast of boats and technologies. I wonder how the 3 ships stayed together as their sizes are so different.
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| 3 boats all headed for the same destination. |
Winds never saw 5 mph, but the day was still a winner on such a beautiful river.
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| Barry before … |
And Barry after. Way up ahead is Caesura’s red sail dead center in this pic.
About two weeks ago, my daughter and I finally coordinated schedules to sail Luna together. She was there last spring to help survey and haul Luna home, but hadn’t seen her in the water, much less take a sail. Well, with a perfect 8-10 kt breeze, a camera and picnic lunch, we shoved off across Mobjack and into the Severn and back. Simple. Just right. I’ll let the photos tell the rest.
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| a bow |
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| the tack |
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| lazy afternoon |
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| lazy skipper |
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| raising the pennant |
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| a girl |
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| watching the bow wake |
Two weeks ago a B-17 Flying Fortress, B-24 Liberator and a P-51 Mustang visited Chesterfield County airport for the weekend. My youngest boy and I went out that Friday to tour the planes. He has been playing the video game War Thunder and recently had achieved a level that allowed him to fly a B-17. The look on his face as he climbed in and out of the real thing was priceless. He also was a walking encyclopedia of B-17 specs. We took loads of photos. The Nine-O-Nine was built at the end of the war in Europe, 1945. She flew 140 missions and was credited with shooting down 3 German planes.
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| Nose art and victories. |
Regretfully, the B-24 was absent after a necessary landing in Stafford to attend to an engine problem. However, we found out that the aircraft were to depart that Monday morning, so we grabbed a thermos of hot chocolate and headed back to the airfield that morning. By luck a simple request got my son a tour of the late arriving B-24.
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| B-24 |
I’m sure as UNA ages her owner will favor more paint over varnish, but for now, he can’t “let her go”. One area of constant wear on the finish has been between the tiller extension and gunwale. Though the extension has a pronounced “hump” to clear the gunwale and smooth edges, it has regularly sawed off the rail’s finish. Just over an hour’s worth of work and $7 of scrap leather hopefully fixes the problem. For oar leathers, diamond hole chisels were purchased. Reused here, a long 30″ strip of suede was punched to be sewn onto the tiller.
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| chisel and scrap demo. |
The strip width is 1/8″ shy of wrapping around the tiller. This allows one to draw the leather tight around the stick. Once punched, the leather was soaked in warm water for 10 minutes. Then the strip was dabbed dry and stitched with a double strand of waxed twine onto the tiller. Initially the stitches were on top of the stick. I moved them to the side before the leather dried too much. Looks better I think.
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| tiller extension with leather |
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| close up |
This should solve that problem. Now on to solving the slick floors with some anti-skid.
Katman and Little T met us in Oriental, NC ‘s public ramp next to the Route 55 bridge on Midyette Ave. About a dozen parked trailers indicates it is heavily used by fishermen in the area. This ramp is concrete and flanked by two nice floating piers. For the next three days, the winds are predicted to be out of the NE, shifting more easterly on the third day. Our goal, 40 miles away as the crow flies, was Ocracoke Island. That puts the wind on the nose outward bound. Around 10:30 we were rigged and under way.
The wind was crisp at 10 kts with gusts to 12-15. The NE direction was steady and only a few headers made tacking necessary with the inevitable Neuse River shoreline. It is a wide river with as much as a 5 mile girth in places. Once at the mouth, the wind dropped out. We anchored behind Swan Island on the north shore for the night. The evening gave a wonderful sunset while rafting and brilliant stars once we set tents for the night.
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| Una and Little T |
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| At Swan Island |
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| Katman (aka KMac) |
At some point around midnight a motor boat roars into the anchorage which is protected by 1 foot shoaling at both ends of the island. I grabbed the flashlight, ready to point us out when the speeding boat was stopped as they dug up the bottom. Some choice country words were heard as the boat then slowly proceeded t the back of the small bay. They were out for the fish and could be heard having success as they came back rowing along the far shore. The mosquitoes were also out all night and only a towel over the head kept them at bay.
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| Skipjack “Wilma Lee” |
Named the Wilma Lee, she is over 70 years old, donated to Ocracoke Alive, Inc. ( a non-profit), and is for hire to sail. She happens to be one of only 32 skipjacks left afloat out of a fleet of once 800. More of her history can be read here.
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| Morning motoring |
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| heron |
After a final roll around the harbor, we head out under full sail. Winds are 10 kts from the east.
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| Marsh Cat and Cedar Island ferry. |
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| Oriental |
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| UNA at anchor. |
Over 95 miles of moving on. This is actually the return run.
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