We’re just back from the Small Reach Regatta in Brooklin, Maine and still I’m ready for the next event. In terms of sailing, the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, MD hosts a great gathering of sailboats, rowboats, canoes, kayaks, etc. The event page has 2 double enders bookending the header photo. To the left is my UNA and to the right is Peter’s NIP. After last year’s cancellation due to hurricane threats, this year should be extra special. We are going.
This entry started as simply a video log, but I lost patience. Still, a partial video of the trip is at the end here.
After a 12 hour and 1 minute drive, UNA met Little T late on a Saturday at Stone Cove Marina in Wakefield, RI at the head of Pt. Judith Pond. A stone’s throw from there we “borrowed” a mooring for the night. Temps were cool, breeze light and southerly. Sleep came easily.
The following morning started calm, but a sea breeze filled in. Expecting to meet Peter and Mike in NIP later that day, we decided to beat down the Pond on an outgoing tide for sightseeing Pt. Judith Refuge.
The race past the ferry landing was moving rapidly. Power boats had little consideration for sailboats. Most didn’t appear to know the rules of the road or demonstrate any patience. No surprise. Perhaps they were concerned with the swift current too.
Mike, coming from Philly, was delayed en route through Connecticut. The plan devolves into Peter driving NIP to meet him part way in Stonington, CT 17 miles away. U and LT would catch up there. At noon however, the breeze out in Block Island Sound quits. Peter, waiting to confirm with Mike, is still at Stone Cove. We decide to sail back in and meet there. After slopping around until 13:30, an afternoon breeze stirs.
We ride the ebb tide back into the Pond only to find Peter has now decided to go to Stonington. At this point U and LT decide to sail to Block Island and clear the eastern entrance of Pt. Judith Refuge at 15:30. It is a late start, but the southerly winds help us along. What exactly the incoming current is doing is hard to tell. UNA points almost to North Pt on Block. Part way out, Little T is motor sails, passes us at North Pt. and heads into Great Salt Pond. For UNA, the wind dies. Not wanting to be swept past the island and still unsure of the current we tack just west of North and ride along the western coast to arrive in the Pond at sunset.
We raft to Little T briefly, talk about the great day (12 hrs of sailing), have a beer, fix dinner and cast off for the night. Anchored off Breezy Point, we can count over 150-175 boats moored or anchored. My last visit was almost 25 years ago. Much was the same, but newer bigger construction was evident, detracting from the island’s quaintness. Though early in the season, the place seemed more hectic, but still possessing the air of another land. Maybe it is the fresh sea breeze.
We decide to catch breakfast at the Old Harbor about 1.5 miles away on the opposite side of the island. First we needed to hail the water taxi. After repeated attempts via VHF channel 16, a nearby boater, sick of listening to us, hails the “launch”, a term which finally gets a response. Kevin is particularly annoyed at the “water taxi” operator’s haughtiness and resolves to catch him in a dark alley on a subsequent visit. How he would dispense of the body is a topic he sticks to for a good part of the walk to The Old Harbor. My dead phone is left with a Serbian named Milo behind the counter at a pier store for charging. Apparently there are many migrant workers from Serbia that arrive for the summer work and then leave (not sure anybody is really checking on that).
At Old Harbor, breakfast is on the verandah of the Surf Hotel which overlooks the harbor. Our good waitress is … ready? … Serbian. Omlette is perfect. High speed ferries blow in and out of the stone seawalls. With all the environmental concerns, it is hard to believe that these craft don’t power away everything on the sea floor. Getting run over by one of these fast boats is certainly a real concern. They can appear out of nowhere. The water is quite clear and the temps cool. Was a great way to have a meal.
Upon return to the “taxi” dock, Kevin gets geared up for dunking the taxi’s helmsman. I’m glad he’s back away from keel-hauling. I find Milo and my phone still there. He says his boss threatened to fire him for his small act of kindness. I apologize, buy some groceries and leave a tip. So much for the relaxed atmosphere.
Back at the “yachts” the wind has picked up. Noon weather predictions sound like we could get socked in, so we put in a reef, sail a loop once around the mooring field, slip past Cormorant Cove, and reach along Harbor Neck’s Coast Guard Station. We head for Stonington to meet Mike and Peter who had spent the night behind Sandy Point outside Watch Hill.
Not 30 minutes out the wind diminishes. We shake reefs and continue on a broad reach for 3-4 hours and make Watch Hill light as the afternoon breeze kicks in. Once in Little Narragansett Bay behind Sandy Spit we spy Nip’s two masts, raise board and rudder and slide over skinny water to be greeted by our missing buddies. The gulls immediately descend on their unattended picnic and try to take off with basket, cheese and summer sausage (that is a shooting offense). We trade stories, share wine, tell bigger tales and at sunset depart to settle in the boats for the night.
Mike and Peter draw a tarp over themselves and call it quits. However, around 02:00 winds grow, thunder and lightning is on the southern horizon and Kevin yells 1/2″ hail is headed our way. I survey bearings add 10′ to anchor scope and roll back into my bunk. Wind maybe hits upper 20’s. No hail. Tent keeps things dry and pointed into the wind. The sand spit kills any wave action. Mike and Peter on the other hand have a fire drill to lower the main mast for a ridge pole, install the tarp roof and nest back in.
Regretfully, Peter has to head back to the ramp across the little bay and on home with NIP. Mike gives Kevin and I a lift to retrieve our trailers. I grab some ice and a lipo battery for phone charging at Waverly’s Walmart. Back at the ramp, Mike continues on with Kevin in Little T. We sail into Watch Hill’s elite harbor and then tour Stonington Harbor.
Stonington has its share of beauties too.
By now it is around noon. With a good beat to Mystic, we buck the current, sneak to weather of White Rocks (not sure if the cormorants didn’t paint them), tack under Enders Island, round Mason Pt. and reach into Mystic’s outer harbor. It is one beautiful classic boat after another. We are a couple of days out from the WoodenBoat Show, but I believe most of the boats on view are permanent residents. We pass through the 2 draw bridges to anchor off Mystic Seaport Museum. Dinner is perfectly battered fish-n-chips at Latitude 41. We have a nice sunset view from the patio under the shade of a large tree. The evening is cool. I sleep until 07:00 when I hear an “oh sh*t!” as a single manned rowing shell discovers at the last moment they are aimed at UNA. Thankfully it is a miss. We take the water taxi Little T to a bagel shop for breakfast and then sail/motor back to the ramp at Barn Island near Stonington. Mike heads home and I pull UNA and do the same. Kevin stays for another night. Together we covered about 100 miles in the 3-4 days.
Our persistent rain finally broke last Thursday and Friday. That was good, as the Float was scheduled. In all we had maybe 10 boats departing from Freeport Landing on the Piankatank River. We arrived with Una mid morning to find 5-6 boats already out sailing in a gentle breeze out of the NE. Once launched, five of us tacked downstream to lunch on the hook behind Berkley Island just short of the Rt 3 bridge.
Post lunch, the wind picked up for some good work to windward. Some headed back to the ramp. Others sailed on beyond the bridge. Una quickened her pace and made it to Fishing Bay and anchored.
After cocktails, dinner and laying out the bed roll, Harris texts me that most of the group had rafted up in Healey Creek about 2.5 miles back upstream. The evening looked great for a reach back, so we did, passing immature osprey dancing on an old duck blind platform.
It was nearly dark when we met up with the gang. Pete, Kevin and Steve provided some tunes on mandolin, penny flute and harmonica respectively, a perfect fit to the evening atmosphere. Short of midnight, we cast off to anchor in the mouth of a small cove 40 yards away. The night was a dead calm, moon bright, the dew heavy and no bugs. The tent went together quickly until I discovered I had buttoned the 1st snaps too far forward. A redo set all right. Sleep was heavy, but awoke at 0300 to owls hooting in the nearby woods. The mist and moon cast an erie glow. Dew had sopped everything outside the tent. Inside it was dry.
0730 awoke to a cool still morning. I found I had left the coffee press in the truck. Missed that ritual. Thus, PBJ was the extent of breakfast. Taking a row upstream, we studied the boats docked along the shore. Numbering a dozen or so, they obviously had deep water in this snug creek.
Leaving the creek, we find the river was glass. Brief puffs helped us along as we head back to Fishing Bay.
As the wind filled in from the outer Bay, I pealed off and take Una over to Gwynn Island to find a fresh grilled crab cake sandwich at the SeaBreeze at the foot of the drawbridge.
The Islander has been in decline since the late 80’s. After Isabell, it closed for good. It’s a shame. The property has a wonderful view north toward Fishing Bay. May be impossible to get flood insurance though.
Once back in the river, only a catboat was seen way upstream. We give chase. Much later we roll under the Rt 3 bridge as Mabu and Whisper sail from behind Berkley Island.
No sooner had we closed the gap to 50 yards when Mabu deploys its beach umbrella to keep us at bay. Is that legal?
Back at the ramp we sheet the mizzen, dropped the main and took a cool swim. The forecast for “tomorrow” was to be a wash. We all hauled boats and enjoyed crabs and oysters with John and Vera. They had a group showing up for their annual Mess-a-bout. Was a fine time indeed.
The Old Bay Club is a confederation of sailors who resist rules and shun regulations. As a Traditional Small Craft Association Chapter, we probably agree on little other than, “let’s go sailing”. And, so some of us did this past week. Two Caledonias, a Whisp, one Marsh Cat and UNA hit the water in Beaufort, NC (pronounce Bow-fert. SC says Bew-ert). Our starting point was to be The Straits ramp approaching Harkers Island, but local advice dissuaded us fro leaving trailers there as they might not be there upon our return. Pirates apparently still ply these waters. Given that, we moved to Beaufort’s Town Creek ramp where overnight parking isn’t allowed (thus the reason for considering Straits). Due to a closed road on our approach, we met “Captain Chris”, a skinny hairy chested fellow who has beer for breakfast, not that there is anything wrong with that. He informs us about the museum’s event parking for leaving trailers. So, we thank him and as we head in that direction, the Capn’ adds that he was voted the “number one sailor in America” and that his vessel, a black hulled ketch is moored in the harbor. The only boat matching that description obviously hasn’t set sail in many years, but who’s to quibble?
A call to the museum’s director gains us access to their lot and the combo to its lock after hours. After an hour or so later 3 boats hit the water. With a third reef in the foresail and the only one in the mizzen, UNA and I sail in Town Creek for maybe 20-30 minutes. It is blowing maybe 25-28 kts in the gusts. As a group, we elect to hang off floating piers at Homer Smith’s Seafood. Sadly the waterman’s town is changing and Homer is getting out of seafood and into the marina business. That career change allows us to ride out the high winds in relative security. Cocktails and dinner are enjoyed.
Beyond the sunset, dredging operations continue into the night, all the way until 2:00 AM! Progress? The shovel dredges mud onto a barge, ambulates to the shore by pushing or pulling the barge by grabbing the bottom and off loads into a dump truck to remove the spoils. Primitive, but seems to out perform the dredge vacuum that also has a voice all night.
Late morning, 7:00 AM, the dredge begins again. Not a peaceful anchorage.
Breakfast is coffee and drop biscuits or, one large brick. With butter and honey, it fills a gap and 1/2 is saved for later.
Sailing about the harbor exhibits several boats in various states.
Crossing back to the harbor to meet arrivals John, Peter and Mike, we grow our numbers by 2 boats and head out towards Newport river. The morning breeze dies quickly and oars are broken out. Kevin motors out towards Beaufort Inlet. The rest of us tire from rowing and drop a hook for lunch.
A local kayakers passes in admiration of our fleet. He says the sea breeze would kick in within the hour. It does and UNA reaches with the current around Radio Island to meet up with Kevin and Little T to explore Beaufort’s waterfront. We’re greeted at the museum’s boat shop where we get a tour of the facilities by the director Tim and Grant. After taking in the exhibits, we catch a burger at Finz Grill and watch the waterway traffic from the deck.
Jumping back in the boats we sail down and back the cut along Front Street. “Wild” horses graze on the facing Bird Shoal.
We pass a Laser on the way back. He comes about and pursues UNA to windward. For 10-12 minutes he gives chase, but can’t close the gap. UNA continues to impress me, but not the bridge tender who at the end of the channel refuses to open per posted schedule when hailed by VHF. The tender’s sign offers openings on the half hour, but at 4:45 the gate keeper says they won’t open until 6:30. Dropping the whole rig and rowing through does not appeal. S0, we do an about face and sail with a small pod of porpoise back around Radio Island and roll with the current at 8.5 kts according to the GPS.
Once back at the ramp, we find all other boats have been hauled, but an excellent shrimp boil is on. Master chef Harris delivers with encouragement from the rabble. He made an excellent meal of shrimp clams, sausage, carrots, potatoes, onions, corn and Old Bay. Hardly a drop was left.
Tomorrow’s weather is forecast to be 30-40 kts. I too decide to pull my boat and take the long road home. All but Kevin leave in the morning. He stays on to sail out to Cape Lookout two days later. He gets the trophy. Until next time … here is a collection of short videos:
We could not have asked for a better day. My oldest son and I hauled UNA to a public landing in Gloucester, VA on the Ware River yesterday. This morning’s one hour tinkering with photos and video quickly became 3, but what better way to record a log?
I had hoped to sail along Norfolk’s waterfront today, but my father couldn’t make it so, I decided to stay closer to home and headed north to the Yeocomico River. A still somewhat rural area on the south shore of the Potomac River, the river was a fantastic diversion.
I know the season is closing. I know the water is cold. Today’s air temperature however was in the mid 60s. Winds were 10-15 mph, gusting to 20-24. That, a picnic lunch, and one reef served to make it a near perfect day. At 11:00 I launched UNA from Olverson’s Marina ($5). They have two 16′ wide concrete ramps to choose from. Launch was easy. We sailed out past maybe two dozen cruising sailboats at dock and a couple sheds full of powerboats out into Lodge Creek. There were also covered land slips available for boating and camping. Perhaps and Old Bay Club event could be based here?
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| Olverson’s Marina |
Winds were flukey in the creek initially. Lulls and blows. You had to be on your toes. No cleating of the mainsheet. Once out in the Yeocomico, I could see St. Marys River across the Potomac. Had I started earlier, I would have sailed across.
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| east lip of Yeocomico |
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| west lip |
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| entrance to Parkers Creek |
Instead of braving the Potomac, we sailed past the mouth and into Parkers Creek for lunch. We went as far as Una would let us go, stirring up mud with board and rudder up. A bald eagle and great heron took flight at the tail end of the creek. Borrowing a small pier, we tied up, flatten mizzen and dropped the main for lunch. The sun’s warmth and light were perfect.
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.
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.
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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