Goodbye “Emily’s Grace”

Boats are full of memories, … if used. Our Beneteau First 42 “Emily’s Grace” provided hundreds. Unlike today’s plastic bottle spaceships, EG was designed by the renowned German Frers to the old IOR rule (International Offshore Racing). When searching for the “next boat”, we looked at several dozens of sailboats. Many appealed, but none clicked. However, I immediately fell in love with her sleek lines and knew she’d be perfect for weeks with a growing family on the Bay. With her huge wheel and balanced rudder, she sailed like a dinghy, was responsive and quick. For the seven plus years we owned her, decades of quality family time was logged. Our previous boat, a Pearson 10M “Emily”, was no exception the 16 years before EG.

Emily’s Grace

Sailing’s romance is not so much your destination. Instead it is about the journey and the promise of a distant horizon. Sounds trite perhaps, but I wouldn’t trade any of sailing’s memories or adventures for anytime on any beach. No beach cottage ever coaxed exploration to discover what lay behind a point of land. Sailing has always offered to me an unmatched freedom and independence.

So, its not without some sadness that we say goodbye. Simply put, the children have grown up fast. They naturally want their own independence and schedules were making it rare to have the entire family aboard. The thrill of sailing can be done smaller when the number of crew shrinks. It is often said that a boat owner’s best days are the first and last of ownership. This is often quipped by one who can’t sail, nor would. I take exception and don’t subscribe. I’ve missed all our boats for one reason or another, but mostly because of those memories. On our last cruise we took a few videos and photos. I never seem to take enough. The camera does intrude on the experience sometimes. This compilation shows both languid days and bashings to weather. We witnessed gorgeous sunsets and crisp morning breezes. These memories I’ll always treasure. Though of a particular week with the family, it draws upon all those previous voyages we took. They can’t dismissed. I’ve yet to find anything quite so satisfying as working with a crew as we press toward the next harbor. I hope the new owner enjoys her half as much as we have. We wish him many memories. Goodbye EG-

Of Gannets And Scoters

Sailing at the beginning or end of the season is usually unpredictable. By that I mean you frequently get a mixed bag of conditions. Last week, we did. From warm, breezy, and sunny to cold, calm, and foggy. With 3 of the children in tow, we set out for some cruising on “Emily”. Despite a late morning start, we set out to windward from Mobjack and turned northerly from New Point Comfort on a broad reach in near ideal conditions. The sun was out. Winds were SE at 10-12 mph and the current favored a gentle trip all the way to Tangier sound on the Eastern Shore. Gannets and scoters gave evidence that the warm season had not arrived truly. I’d offer pictures of these interesting birds, but they would not allow us to get closer than 3-40 yards before taking flight. The muscular gannets were quick to be airborne while the scoters would skate away to settle down another 100 yards distant.

Emily’s hull had been scrubbed the week before and she slid right along at a consistent 6 kts through the water. Sadly, we had done little to clean her topsides before this first sail, but she didn’t seem to protest. The crew simply piled on, shipped stores, filled water tanks, and hanked on sails. 8 hours later, the anchor was down in Crisfield Harbor right as the sun set.

We ate well and often …
Sandwich by Gray.

The following day we went wing and wing through intermittent rain up Tangier Sound.

Tangier Sound

At Hoopers Strait the best sailing of the day began as it dried up a bit. We reached along on port tack through flocks of scoters. Once in the Bay, the gannets took over. The wind died again, so we motor sailed north into the Choptank and anchor in the Tred Avon across from Oxford’s Strand. We were just upstream of the ferry landing that connects Oxford to St. Michaels. Apparently it doesn’t run so early in the year and locals told us that now in 20 minutes you can drive there almost as easily, but where’s the romance in that?

Dinner of spiced chickened rice was followed by a game of cards by oil lantern which added just enough heat to fight the chill. Sea water temp was still 47. Sleeping required a cap. A down comforter in the quarter berth is as nice a nest as any. Slept well.
Morning revealed what would be rain for the day. Scrambled eggs, drop biscuits, sausage, and coffee got us started. We neatened up the cabin before poking outside.
Anchored in the unused mooring field off the beach was convenient, but we elected to grab a slip at what was Mears Marina (now Brewers). Slip rental and 8 gallons of diesel = $120! The hot showers almost made it worth it. We took several walks through town and visited Cutts and Case boatyard. I could sight see there all day, but didn’t want to risk a mutiny.
the crew.




Norton and diesel.


PT model on Packard engine.

The whole yard displays itself as a bit of a museum. From the huge shed display window to the “project” boats languishing in the weeds, the establishment seems a throw-back and a wonder to ramble through.

The town offers many distinct cottages and houses. No two are alike. It is hard to tell whether Oxford is on the upswing or not. No Saltines were to be had at the small market. That somehow added to the charm of the place. However, it is far from the days in the 70’s when teak decked Palmer Johnson yachts were finished out and ice cream floats could be had at the Confectionary. Long ago I suppose, I’m surprise the home of the great financier of the American Revolution, Robert Morris, hasn’t been discovered and boutique up. We can only hope that never happens. St. Michaels already has more than its share.
Episcopal glass.


the red metal shingled building


proverbial sailboat in the window


lovely house


Methodist glass
The cold winter may have slowed boats from launching, or maybe we were just too early. Likely the latter. A couple of red Hinkleys rested across from the working boats in the cove.
The following day was a late and lazy start. Around noon we left Oxford to reach back across the Bay to the Solomons.
We dropped anchor in Leasons Cove up Mill Creek (the easternmost branch from the entry). Years ago my father and I spent a night here on our first boat, an old Pearson 10M. We were bringing her down Bay after buying her at Herrington Harbor. The cove was more crowded then and I remember not feeling at all easy about our proximity to shore. Emily’s 66# claw gives no such concerns. Dinner is chili and rice over a bed of lettuce and Fritos, aka “Bandito Salad”. Topped with shredded cheese, onions, and salsa, this concoction is good grub.
Fog was as thick as I’ve seen it the following morning. With a schedule to keep, we started out at 0700. I relied on my youngest’s eyes to seek out buoys as we connected the dots out of the Patuxet. With running lights on we shortly passed a larger sailboat the disappeared in our wake after maybe 40 yards!
fog off Cedar Pt.

We motored on as the wind was on the nose an maybe 3-5. We still had a long way to get home. Somewhat of a scare occurred just after we crossed the mouth of the Potomac. Without radar, I had been using an app called Marine Traffic which identifies all AIS carrying boats. As we approached Smith Pt. A loud horn was blasted directly astern. In a frenzy I checked the app to see the invisible vessel was a tug turning upriver. A second blast proved it was headed behind us. Getting flattened by a barge pushing tug is not uncommon. Though we had kept what I thought as a diligent watch, we did not hear the rumble of the tug nor ever see it, but it was too close.

The winds were increasing and now pushed 20 mph. The seas became lumpy with 6′ waves at short intervals. Wind and waves were bucking the current, so we tacked out into the Bay before returning to port tack hunting for Reedville on the Great Wicomico for the night. Only when at turning at the Light did the fog begin to lift. We settled under the town water tower off Tommy’s Restaurant. It was pleasant to sit with a drink and watch the world go by after such a tense day.
Wicomico Lt.


Our place for the night.

Mama came to collect our busy daughter as we were still a day from home. Cocktails and a “gourmet” spaghetti dinner made the evening. A short squall passed during dinner.

We chatted up this wild Friday night and reluctantly said goodbye around 21:00 as my middle son rowed the girls ashore. The night was calm and stars abounded. Away from city lights the heavens get revealed. Sleep was sound until 5:00 when a confused rooster began practice. We ignored him, but another crowed across the water at 06:30. He must have had a watch. Daybreak. We up anchor and slip past the Menhaden fleet.
Pancakes were made under way. Motor sail past fishermen repairing their traps in Fleets Bay, before turning south. The wind fails us so we pause to shoot balloons past Wolf Trap Light.

True to form, the weather turns ideal as we turn into East River and home. Still, it was an enjoyable first cruise. Time with the family is always good and never enough. It was hard not to head back out.


A Sailing Respite

The Sooty Tern sat alone for a good week while I took my 2 younger boys for a first sail of the season with Emily’s Grace. The weather was a mixed bag. Fantastic for 2, rain and blowing for 2, and finally sun and blowing. Not quite the idyllic run of days the weatherman had predicted last week, but even a bad day sailing … (you know the rest).

A break from routine and turning away from winter was rejuvenating. Here is a different way to wake up:

With southerly breezes we jumped from Mobjack to Poquoson and on to Norfolk.

Then the fair temps and sunshine stopped. With the edge of a front due to force the winds northerly, we decided to ride a gale back north in the rain. The thought of a cold bash to windward home and a rolling Norfolk harbor persuaded us to go. Winds stayed 20-25 and gusted to 30-35. With just the jib flying and a following tide we escorted a large tanker from downtown to Sewell’s Point. There the ship rounded east, got up her steam, and shot past forts Wool and Monroe. By the time we reached them, the tanker had dissolved in the rain. Hugging the western shore to avoid the seas, we were back in Mobjack Bay in a few hours and reached far up the East River to drop anchor in Woodas Creek.

An hour later the winds veered 180 degrees to the north pushing gusts to 35 kts. Cold and wet, but with a sense of accomplishment, a warm dry cabin was welcomed.

Sparkling Diversions- Fall on the Chesapeake

The Sooty progress has been nil of late. The food and shelter thing keeps pressing its demands. However, I was able to steal away a week to journey on my favorite bay and thought I’d share some photos and a last day video as some recompense for build regression.

Reaching homeward.

I do believe this is my favorite time of the year for boating. The air is crisp. The light quality is brilliant. The wind generally fair and, of course, there are those colors. Add to that the passing of Labor Day turns off the traffic of other boaters and quaint towns along coast can once again hint at a long ago charm. Without brash tourists at every turn, the less frequent sailor is now welcomed.

Sunday afternoon.
Sunday evening.
Monday morning.

My father once said power boating is about points “A” and “B”. Sailing is about the journey in between. While I heartedly agree, there were a couple “points” where we lingered and just enjoyed the world. One was the town of Onancock on the Eastern Shore and the other, Reedville on the western shore’s Great Wicomico. Both seem to be hanging in limbo. Steamboat ferries and oyster boom days are long gone. Far too many outsiders have moved in, but thankfully the boutique rabble had gone with the summer. What is left is a genuine charm and proud history for any who’d slow down to take notice.

The replica “Godspeed” at Onancock’s wharf.


Some late afternoon essentials on the Occohannock Creek.


A Reedville Captains home. Classic form.


Lovely skiff details.
Scenery on Cockrell Creek.
Reedville’s landmarks.
Part of Reedville’s (Fleeton’s) menhaden fleet.
Hard workers of the menhaden fleet.
Our neighbors in Reedville.
Me first matey. None better.

So, there you have it, just a taste of a poorly photographed week, but perhaps you get a hint of the beauty experienced. I leave you with a portion of our last sail home. Enjoy!