Sailed LUNA last week for our first overnighter of the year. From Mobjack we had a plus 45 mile run to Reedville where we met Kevin with his Capri 22, Big T.
Storm passed off New Point Comfort
Shortly after Stingray Point, the wind died. We motor sailed and eventually spied Kevin off Reedville. He had been just north of the Potomac the night before coming from Cambridge, MD.
New engine and modified bracket
Entering Reedville is the last remaining stack of what was over 20 from fishing processing plants. Built in 1902, this one now serves as a “gateway” to the town and is lit at night. In danger of collapse, the icon was saved by the community and Omega Protein fishing company to memorialize a part of the town’s history.
Reedville’s smokestack icon
We anchored off the town’s water tower, enjoyed a swim and watched the sun set as the evening cooled. The nearby boatyard had some classic old workboats.
Kevin and Big TLUNA
With Luna’s new 4″ berth cushions, sleep was easy. However, at 5:00 a passing workboat shook things up. I thought someone had climbed aboard. I sacked out for another 1.5 hrs when I decided to make coffee and take a short sail up the creek to seek out a college friend who I hadn’t seen in forever. I knew he had a Corsair trimaran, so locating his pier wasn’t hard. As we coasted up to his dock, he threatened to shoot. In apology he offered coffee and we caught up before saying goodbye to wake up the world’s heaviest sleeper, KMac. A quick passing rap with a boat hook on Big T’s bow pulpit got him stirring.
The fresh morning breeze takes us out into the Wicomico and Bay. Setting a course for Tangier Island, we head dead downwind. I devise a whisker pole using the boat hook to sail jib and main wing and wing. Luna practically sails herself for hours until we seem to be headed for the same point and time where both a tug and cargo ship are headed. We first bear off close behind the tug whose following barge make a slick of the sea. The huge prop wash pushes us around. We then have to head up and cross behind the container ship as it’s wake lifts and lowers us like an ocean swell.
passing tug towing bargesouthbound container ship
Around 1100 Tangier’s houses emerge from the Bay. Winds and seas begin to build. Not certain the western approach has enough depth, we elect to sail south around Tangier Light, up the Sound and into the town cut east. We think we have arrived, but the remainder of the day is going to get a lot more interesting …
The number of active sailboats on the Bay has been dwindling for years. Yet, countless marinas have neglected boats melting away as their encrusted hull grow closer to the bottom below. How many broken dreams lay tied to so many piers? Also, gone are the huge regattas I recall as a child where literally hundreds of dinghies would participate. Optis, Turnabouts, Moths, Windmills, Skipjacks, Thistles, 5-O-5’s, Hamptons, etc. all showed up on the big weekends. It was great sport and the post race festivities were something to enjoy, if not sit back and observe. Why the numbers have declined, I don’t know really. I blame the “virtual reality” of TV and it’s effectual inducement of mental laziness. Correct me if you will, but where has people’s sense of adventure gone? The spirit of entertainment and immediate gratification is killing genuine experience and outdoor adventure. I know, that’s another discussion. We’ll leave it for now.
Through sailing UNA, I have found a small group who are passionate about just sailing. Many don’t care to race or compete at all. That’s OK. Their love for messing about in boats is the treasure. I value their friendships immensely. And now that our big boat has found a new owner, we’re looking to do more varied and frequent sailing.
Accordingly, yesterday, after meeting a canvas maker, my daughter and I took a short sail in Mobjack with LUNA. Winds were light and varied from NNE at 4-6 mph. We reached across Mobjack and west into the mouth of North River where we met some of the most dedicated sailors in out little marina. Barbara, Ayars and their Cape Dory 30 “Dory” day sail their nice boat almost every week during the season. Now that we have the Rozinante, I expect we’ll be crossing paths more frequently.
ghosting under Dory
ghosting under DoryAfars, Lina and Barbara (credit: Declan)
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-
Here in Virginia it seems late in the season, but we’ve had rain on top of rain for 1 1/2 months. Yesterday finally had clearing skies, so with both my youngest boy and my newest pup we went to unwrap Luna yesterday.
skipper, pup and newly varnished hatch.
Aside from being discouraged by the degradation of the varnish on the toe rail, all was going fine in removing the 3 tarps, the structure supporting them, and hanking on the sails. Fine that is, until I watched the main halyard run up the mast. Dumb! The marina “experts” promptly suggested all kinds of retrieval methods from heeling the boat using the jib halyard, standing on an adjacent powerboat with boat hook to linking 3 boat hooks together and reaching high. Perhaps more pedantic, I decided to fashion a bosun’s chair and haul the youngest at 81 pounds with a boat hook with wire hanger taped to the end to snag the lost shackle. This would be a lesson in self reliance. However, he was not too comfortable at spreader height (or confident in my grip?) so we brought him down. Surprised at how easily I could haul him up on the 2 part halyard, I decided to haul myself up with tailing assistance on the deck. Once above the spreaders and just below the jumper stay, I hauled the boat hook up the flag halyard and grabbed the prize. Back on deck I decided to make a legitimate chair. Here it is:
scrap 3/4″ plywood with bluenosed edges and 4 countersunk holes.2 figure eight hoist pointscontinuous line run diagonally and lashed behind reef knots.
We’re not planning to lose the halyard again, but you never know … at least next time we’ll be ready and familiar with the drill.
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.
windward making
Mike and his crackers
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.
Fishing Bay
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.
ospreyreaching into the sunset
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.
Mabu and Whisper astern
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.
Kevin and Slip Jig
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 Motel remains
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.
handsome deadrise skiff
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.
the bridge
No sooner had we closed the gap to 50 yards when Mabu deploys its beach umbrella to keep us at bay. Is that legal?
the sneaky Mabu and umbrella.
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.
After nearly 2 weeks of rain, we got sunshine. I put the canoe in the truck bed, grabbed the cooler and drove with my 2 youngest boys upstream along the James. We put in at the public ramp at Maidens and out at Watkins Landing. A roughly 10 mile trip that was a relaxing 3 hour cruise. breeze was stiff, but following. We lazily paddled around and between the several small islands dividing the river. The current was swift running. Any rapids we usually encounter were submerged. Was a great way to spend the afternoon.
UNA’s tent has gone through a number of evolutions, mostly in details. Originally designed to use the main mast as a ridge pole, it worked well. The wedge shape seems to hang downwind even with the mizzen furled. However there were some sacrifices (aside from not being my bed at home). The biggest loss was a dampening effect the raised mast has on a rolling boat. Even lowering the centerboard left too quick a rolling motion. Also, threading the velcro straps through footmans loops under the gunnel was easy on the pavement, but a hassle on the water. So, I replaced the loops with snaps. This works great. With snaps every 12″ I’ve a good setup for the boat cover I want to build.
I had raised the tent with the main halyard from a D ring while leaving the mast stepped, but there was too much sagging. Now I’ve solved that problem by pulling the tent from loops at both ends.
The last drawback was the amount of air (or rain) that might blow in from the forward opening. This we reduced by stuffing bags in the opening which was temporary at best. Now we have a separate mini tent over the bow which overlaps the main tent.
The end solution leaves only mosquito netting to figure out. In the meantime, we have an army netting that can be hung inside the tent or a Thermocell to repel the pests.
Tent with bow closureleather on bow tent for mooring or anchor line wear
after end of tent hung by halyard on mizzen and tensioned by string back to mast.Interior is a jumble, but has adequate sitting room aft of the thwart.
My sewing technique is not there yet, but with each project we’re improving. I’m happy with this solution. If a real blow is expected one night, hopefully I won’t be aboard, but if necessary, the setup can use the lowered main mast too. And should you need to escape fast, the snaps are not too difficult to release and open. Some mornings I’ll unsnap just a few starboard aft snaps to gain more headroom and scout the horizon while still being largely protected from the breeze while the coffee is brewing. Now we just need to find a new horizon.
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?
ramp location
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.
Homer Smith piers
A Bolger design perhaps?Curried dinner boiling in a pouch. Easy and good.
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.
Sunsetdredge shovel on a barge working late.
Late morning, 7:00 AM, the dredge begins again. Not a peaceful anchorage.
dredging recommences first thing the next morning.
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.
biscuits
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.
lunchDennis seins for shrimp
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.
the shop with Kev in and the boats beyond
Jumping back in the boats we sail down and back the cut along Front Street. “Wild” horses graze on the facing Bird Shoal.
wild?
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.
back at the ramp
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.
another sunset
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:
Passed her this morning as she moved through Hampton Roads bound for the Arabian Sea. I grew up in Norfolk and to this day I’m still stirred to see these ships go and hopefully return. It’s always an impressive site. May God bless the men and women who serve on her in our defense.
The Chamberlain beyond and Ft. Monroequickly turning on the speed
Hi! my name is Sebastian (You can call me Seb!) ...welcome to my Blog. I'm a photographer from Worcester, Worcestershire, England. Thanks for dropping by! I hope you enjoy my work.
Gavin Atkin's weblog for the sort of people who like looking inside boat sheds. It's about old boats, traditional boats, boat building, restoration, the sea and the North Kent Coast
Lingering Lunacy 