-
April
<
>
Sunday 11th of April
64 deg F and partly cloudy in Solomons at 0804 EST. No fog. When my main sail and jib were up during a 9.6kt wind apparent, we could run 5.2kts in the open heading east, or 6 kts when heading out on Pax river. The sunny, heading north, got 5-7.5 knots. Water is only slightly choppy, but I cut through it. Captain’s wife gybed… poorly. She’ll get the hang of it by the end of this trip, I’m sure. The Captain was anxious to get the spinnaker up, and had it all ready to go, but then noticed the winds started to gust 15-17kts…. woh. The winds settled back to 7 knots and by 1057 EST, Captain put the spinnaker up, took down the jib, and let out the main. We got a 4 knot run for just a little while, then at 1108 EST the wind died and Captain furled the spinnaker. By 1113 EST, I ran on motors with just the main up. At noon time, the Captain took advantage of the dead calm, and calibrated my magnetometer by taking me in circles.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, just motoring along. We made it to Port Annapolis by 5pm.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, just motoring along. We made it to Port Annapolis by 5pm.
Saturday 10th of April
At Tangier Island, we are surrounded by efficiency homes on stilts. Every one of them have piers stacked with crab traps of about 9 cubic feet in size. Every one of them have boats. Most of them are small, single motor aluminum boats that hold 6 to 12 crab traps. A few old men sit in front of the bait and shackle shop by the deisel tanks, chatting. A boat comes by with empty crab traps, and 4 seagulls flock to it, one lands on the blue cooler at the stern. As the fisherman steers he reaches back giving the gull a piece of bread, and he speeds away out the channel.
This morning, we are waiting for transition to high tide, so the flow is against us, for best rudder control. By 9am, the fog settled in. The fine mist passes over my deck and surrounds every port view. The seagulls are heard but not visible. Captain waited until the fog lifted, then pulled up anchor. By the time, we motored towards the channel to exit, the fog settled in again. We followed another boat to stay within channel until he docked, then we crept slowly with a whistle to let others know we were about. Captain’s wife perched on the port side dolphin seat to lookout for the channel markers. Staring into the fog, expecting to see something, becomes a grey that yields every possible image. The variation of densities make shapes that change once you glance away, yet a new shape is found at every glance. As the fog dances, you can swear you might see a post, or a boat, or even a building, but they appear as shadows then disappear just as quickly. Finally, a green marker appears on out port side ahead and becomes disticnt. Captain’s wife points and calls it out. Captain steered me to put it on my starbaord side. We make it through the channel, or atleast according to the navigation chart plotter that shows a cute green catamaran silhoutte moving across a blue screen. Captain’s wife sits still, bundled up in layers of clothing, with frog togs that let the mist bead and drip off, leaving her dry. She keeps a watchful eye for any obstacles. The mist accumulates on her brows and eyelids. When she blinks, droplets form and run down to her eyelashes. The tiny prisms shimmer light around her eyes. When she blinks again, the water slides along her lids fora refreshing coolness on her eyes.Now the tiny prisms are more disperesesd along the legths of her lashes and across every one. The hang around her vision sparkling, yet she still concentrates on the fog around me, to protect me. The fog persisted into the afternoon, but lifted just before we appraoched Paxtuxtent River. We anchored in the Solomons. A friend recommended a Tiki Bar to the crew, so they left in the dinghy. I could hear music and loud cars, as I waded patiently. When they returned before dark, they hung around and told stories, having been lifted in spirits by spirits.
This morning, we are waiting for transition to high tide, so the flow is against us, for best rudder control. By 9am, the fog settled in. The fine mist passes over my deck and surrounds every port view. The seagulls are heard but not visible. Captain waited until the fog lifted, then pulled up anchor. By the time, we motored towards the channel to exit, the fog settled in again. We followed another boat to stay within channel until he docked, then we crept slowly with a whistle to let others know we were about. Captain’s wife perched on the port side dolphin seat to lookout for the channel markers. Staring into the fog, expecting to see something, becomes a grey that yields every possible image. The variation of densities make shapes that change once you glance away, yet a new shape is found at every glance. As the fog dances, you can swear you might see a post, or a boat, or even a building, but they appear as shadows then disappear just as quickly. Finally, a green marker appears on out port side ahead and becomes disticnt. Captain’s wife points and calls it out. Captain steered me to put it on my starbaord side. We make it through the channel, or atleast according to the navigation chart plotter that shows a cute green catamaran silhoutte moving across a blue screen. Captain’s wife sits still, bundled up in layers of clothing, with frog togs that let the mist bead and drip off, leaving her dry. She keeps a watchful eye for any obstacles. The mist accumulates on her brows and eyelids. When she blinks, droplets form and run down to her eyelashes. The tiny prisms shimmer light around her eyes. When she blinks again, the water slides along her lids fora refreshing coolness on her eyes.Now the tiny prisms are more disperesesd along the legths of her lashes and across every one. The hang around her vision sparkling, yet she still concentrates on the fog around me, to protect me. The fog persisted into the afternoon, but lifted just before we appraoched Paxtuxtent River. We anchored in the Solomons. A friend recommended a Tiki Bar to the crew, so they left in the dinghy. I could hear music and loud cars, as I waded patiently. When they returned before dark, they hung around and told stories, having been lifted in spirits by spirits.
Friday 9th of April
The air was comfortable, so Captain didn’t change from his sweat bottoms and t-shirt, and his wife wore shorts and a breathable shirt. Captain and mate started my engines at 7:08 in the morning, after wife loaded a video to YouTube, and made eggs and sausage. By 9:30 am, I was under sail up the Chesapeake bay! It wasn’t long before everyone started to layer on clothing and jackets. Captain and his mate guided wife at the helm, who tended to oversteer. I seamingling changed my heading every 100 yards, crossing the laid course as the current pilot commanded.
A call came over VHF Ch 16, “Sailing vessel heading north on Chesapeake, This is ——. We are dredged. What are your intentions?” Mate pointed off port side towards a big dredging vessel. “That’s him.” Captain yells to wife, “call back, the radio is closest to you” Wife fumbled with radio while trying to steer, “um, This is sailing vessel, um, Hei hei Rere.” She let go of key and put it back. “I can’t steer and use radio at same time!” The radio squealed again, “SV Heihiei, what are your intentions?” Mate went around to the radio, “This is sailing vessel, Heihei Rere. We are heading north up Cheseapeake.” The dredger captain acknowledged. Captain teased his wife, “Your steering confused them!”
About 11am, Captain told his wife he was getting hungry, and she offered to make chicken noodle soup. The motion and cold started to get to her. Once the pot was simmering, she lay down on my soft salon couch and fell asleep. She wasn’t warm enough until late afternoon. At 5:23 pm, we started motoring, then anchored off at Tangier Island mooring field at 1808pm. In the middle of the night, bright light blinded my port side as a boat approached. Captain looked at the port hole. A man steering the boat cussed and reversed his engines, just in time, so he didn’t t-bone me. I have my anchor light on but it is atop the mast sitting at 60 feet above the water, so he musthave not seen it.
A call came over VHF Ch 16, “Sailing vessel heading north on Chesapeake, This is ——. We are dredged. What are your intentions?” Mate pointed off port side towards a big dredging vessel. “That’s him.” Captain yells to wife, “call back, the radio is closest to you” Wife fumbled with radio while trying to steer, “um, This is sailing vessel, um, Hei hei Rere.” She let go of key and put it back. “I can’t steer and use radio at same time!” The radio squealed again, “SV Heihiei, what are your intentions?” Mate went around to the radio, “This is sailing vessel, Heihei Rere. We are heading north up Cheseapeake.” The dredger captain acknowledged. Captain teased his wife, “Your steering confused them!”
About 11am, Captain told his wife he was getting hungry, and she offered to make chicken noodle soup. The motion and cold started to get to her. Once the pot was simmering, she lay down on my soft salon couch and fell asleep. She wasn’t warm enough until late afternoon. At 5:23 pm, we started motoring, then anchored off at Tangier Island mooring field at 1808pm. In the middle of the night, bright light blinded my port side as a boat approached. Captain looked at the port hole. A man steering the boat cussed and reversed his engines, just in time, so he didn’t t-bone me. I have my anchor light on but it is atop the mast sitting at 60 feet above the water, so he musthave not seen it.
Thursday 8th of April
Captain’s wife heads out before breakfast to get propane tanks recertified and filled, fill gas jerry can for dinghy, pick up first aid kit items, and things. Captain and mate finished rigging and changed oil of engines and generator motor. Captain and his wife motored me over to the fueling dock. The wind and current made it difficult for my little 40hp motors, then port side engine overheated due to clogged inlet port, despite Captain’s efforts yesterday cleaning the inlets. They managed to get me docked with a little help from fuel dock hand. There’s a reason a rope off the middle cleat is called the spring line.
Captain’s wife fueled me up, and wiped the little fuel that spilled on my name decal. Captain backflushed the inlet again, and let me cool down while they enjoyed some fruit salad. I heard the captain tell his wife “to get out of here, let the port bow tie out first, then as the boat pivots, untie the stern.” His wife acknowledged. She did exactly as planned, and the Captain did as the fuel dock hand advised, and backed into open area then pivoted to exit. I kept my cool on the return to the marina, but one of my engine belts squealed.
Captain told his wife the order to tie me up in my home slip. When we reached my home slip, the Captain’s first attempt was to use the empty slip across from mine to turn into and back into mine, but this didn’t work. He backed out to try again. This time he used the independent throttles of the motors to pivot in the middle of the lanes and then backed me into my slip. His wife jumped off to tie lines as directed, however, she tied off the port midship cleat, and then picked up the port stern line, but hesitated. She ran to the other side to tie off the starboard midship cleat, but the boat was not close enough on that side. When she returned, Captain looked over with a confused face, “I though you tied off the stern!” As he was attempting to tie off the port bow. She immediately confused, “I screwed up! I’m sorry, my fault. You told me right, and I thought an opposite cleat was needed.” They managed to tie me off fine, get Chinese for dinner, and sleep up.
Captain’s wife fueled me up, and wiped the little fuel that spilled on my name decal. Captain backflushed the inlet again, and let me cool down while they enjoyed some fruit salad. I heard the captain tell his wife “to get out of here, let the port bow tie out first, then as the boat pivots, untie the stern.” His wife acknowledged. She did exactly as planned, and the Captain did as the fuel dock hand advised, and backed into open area then pivoted to exit. I kept my cool on the return to the marina, but one of my engine belts squealed.
Captain told his wife the order to tie me up in my home slip. When we reached my home slip, the Captain’s first attempt was to use the empty slip across from mine to turn into and back into mine, but this didn’t work. He backed out to try again. This time he used the independent throttles of the motors to pivot in the middle of the lanes and then backed me into my slip. His wife jumped off to tie lines as directed, however, she tied off the port midship cleat, and then picked up the port stern line, but hesitated. She ran to the other side to tie off the starboard midship cleat, but the boat was not close enough on that side. When she returned, Captain looked over with a confused face, “I though you tied off the stern!” As he was attempting to tie off the port bow. She immediately confused, “I screwed up! I’m sorry, my fault. You told me right, and I thought an opposite cleat was needed.” They managed to tie me off fine, get Chinese for dinner, and sleep up.
Wednesday 7th of April
Captain immediately started to dote on me. He checked out all of the electrical systems. He is happy I kept the batteries charged with my solar panels, but brought new ones. I see he has brought many parts and paint and such to fix me up over the next 2 weeks! He invited a crewmate to help with the boat. They rigged me and cleaned my hull and sail drives. Captain’s wife provisioned for many weeks, except we may have to stop for perishables 1 or 2 times. She also got new rope for jack lines, and some new shackles.