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May 22, 2024

JO BETH has left her temporary boatyard home in Solomons, Maryland, at Washburn’s Boat Yard. Lisa and I arrived in Solomons the first week of April to the world’s tiniest Air BnB on a chilly and rainy evening. The drive from Wilmington, NC had been long and we were tired. I had hoped to be able to swing by Washburn’s to take a peek at the boat, but it was getting dark and we had no idea where in the boatyard she had been placed. We ordered a pizza and crashed.

***JO BETH at Washburn’s Boatyard, Solomons, Maryland; here Angel is installing a replacement cell booster antennae***

Early the next morning, in a misty drizzle, I went to the boatyard. It was almost as if we hadn’t left. Linda, the office manager, greeted me with a smile; Jackson and Luna, the office dogs, barked incessantly. Erik, the yard manager, came out of his office to shake my hand. Everyone asked me how I was doing, even a few people that I didn’t remember talking to in the fall. It was a great reception!

*In the Travel Lift slings, lifting from the yard hydraulic trailer…soon to be in her natural element*

Linda told me precisely where in the yard JO BETH had been put once the work done in the late fall had been completed. Washburn’s is mostly a sand and gravel yard as most boatyards are. The exceptions are the hauling and launch areas which are usually concrete or asphalt. With the rainy weather, she sat among sandy puddles and tufts of wiry grass, in the storage area of the yard. Boats were packed in tight, with just a foot or two between them. I found a ladder stored beneath a nearby boat, stood it beside the port side boarding gate and climbed up. I didn’t go aboard as my shoes were caked with wet sand, but I was able to scan her cockpit and her port side deck. All boatyards are dirty, dusty places, and Washburn’s was no exception. To my delight however, JO BETH was remarkably clean, or at least she looked it.

I drove back our to Air BnB to report to Lisa, but first made a quick stop at the Starbucks on the way. When we arrived here last fall with my newly afflicted pinched nerve and much uncertainty as to the road forward, I spent a lot of time at Starbucks doing research on my condition, searching for doctors and medical massage therapists, etc. The first time I stopped in, one of the staff noticed I was having trouble with my left hand as I went to pay for my order. By this time, my fingers had curled into a something resembling a claw. I couldn’t close my fingers completely, nor could I open them. I wasn’t able to keep the coins I was holding from falling onto the counter and the floor. She waited patiently and after a few moments asked if she could help. I placed my hand against the counter, palm up, and pushed my fingers flat. She counted out the change for me and the instant I released the pressure on my fingers, they contracted back into the claw shape. I thanked her and went to a table, where I began setting up my laptop. Another employee brought over my coffee and sandwich and asked if I needed help setting up my laptop.

At the time, I had no diagnosis and no idea of what was happening with my arm and hand. It was a surreal experience and I’m lying if say I wasn’t worried I might not recover. Now, well recovered and remembering this experience, I’m warmed by the kindness of strangers. When I stopped at the Starbucks again, I was happy to see the kind girl who had helped me and took the opportunity to thank her once more.

The weather soon cleared and the crews at Washburn’s moved JO BETH from her spot in the yard storage area to a place where we had better access to get aboard and begin the process of waking her up from her winter’s slumber. Now that I was finally able to take a good look around, it became clear she was dirtier than she had initially appeared. Still, it wasn’t too bad. Down below, she was stuffy and musty, but the huge mold blooms Lisa had feared didn’t happen. There were small amounts of mold in spots on the overhead panels but little else. There was no evidence of leaks or vermin infestation. (It’s not unusual for mice to move aboard stored boats!) All in all, she fared well.

The first order of business was to clean the interior. The interior cushions were left on board, but had been stood on their sides. Lockers had been left open and mostly emptied to facilitate air circulation. Lisa was back at the Air BnB on conference calls, so I was at the boat with a diluted solution of vinegar and very cold water, wiping down every exposed surface. It was a sunny day, so I had the hatches and ports open and fans turned on so everything would dry. I also took the opportunity to power up several systems and check them for any issues. We were very fortunate in that everything was working!

We had not been in Solomons when Washburn’s hauled JO BETH. Once she was moved from the storage area into the working area of the yard, I noticed some minor damage to the forward edge of the keel. This was very likely from a grounding we experienced leaving the harbor at St. Michaels, MD. St. Michaels is a town grown from the Chesapeake Bay oyster industry and the bottom of the harbor is covered in a thick layer of discarded oyster shell. As we were leaving the harbor, we hadn’t taken the low tide into account and became stuck for about 20 minutes until the incoming tide floated us off. Hitting the oyster shell covered bottom was like hitting tightly packed gravel, and it ground off most of the fairing material and bottom pain from the forward edge of the keel. Another task added to the list, but after discussing the matter with Lisa, we elected to have Washburn’s do the repair. They also touched up the bottom paint along the waterline where it had dried and cracked.

While JO BETH was in storage, we took the opportunity to have her surveyed. We contacted my friend Curt Sarratt in Annapolis to do the job. Another friend, also a marine surveyor, Steve Mason, came along as well. In my career as a marine surveyor, I worked closely with both Curt and Steve on the now disbanded Boat/US Catastrophe Response Team following more than 20 hurricanes and tropical storms. It was good to see them again, and Curt did a great job on the survey. (If you need a marine surveyor in the Annapolis/Baltimore/ Solomons area, please contact me and I’ll pass along Curt’s information.)

By the end of the week, during a very rainy and windy Friday morning, JO BETH was returned to her natural element. The engine winterizing was decommissioned (this is done by running the engine; the winterizing antifreeze, a non-toxic, glycol free and biodegradable solution, is pumped overboard as the engine intakes water from outside the boat for cooling), and we powered her from the Washburn’s haul out slip to a floating dock at Calvert Marina, just a few hundred yards away. We began the process of moving back aboard in full, as our time in the Air BnB was up. The first order of business was to reconnect the shore power cord and power up the AC electrical system. Next was to flush the winterizing fluid from the fresh water tanks and lines, and begin the process of sanitizing the system. Next was to get the brand new mattress aboard, which we had purchased last year at The Annapolis Sailboat Show. It was custom made for JO BETH and it’s magnificent!

*While investigating water heater issues, we found the inlet coupling had failed and was leaking*

Unfortunately, we encountered an issue with the fresh water system. When Washburn’s winterized the system, the water heater was bypassed. The antifreeze solution, though environmentally safe and non-toxic, can be reactive with the metals used in the heating element inside the water heater. Instead, the water heater is disconnected from the fresh water system and the water drained or pumped out of the tank.

This is all fine; however, neither Lisa nor I knew how the water heater had been bypassed so we asked the yard to undo the bypass and remake the connections to the water heater. We were told later that afternoon, the same day we launched, that the bypass had been restored and the water heater was ready to be restarted and tested. Lisa and I had been away from the boat at the grocery store, buying stores to get us through the weekend. We filled the water tanks, including the water heater, but left testing the system for the next morning. Accordingly, we turned the water heater on and looked forward to having hot water!

Saturday morning came and I opened the hot water tap in the galley and let the water run. The water stayed cold…and stayed cold...and stayed cold. I dug into the cockpit locker where the water heater is located and saw how the yard did the bypass connection, as it was not undone! The water heater had now been turned on for over 12 hours with no water in the tank. No doubt, the element was burned out and would have to be replaced. Still, I undid the bypass – the yard had simply used a coupler to clamp the fill line and discharge lines together to form a loop in the system. Just for giggles, I remade the connections to the water heater and topped up the water tanks. I powered it up once again – no hot water.

Lisa and I continued moving back aboard through the sunny but cool weekend and on Monday morning, I went to Washburn’s office to report the issue. Linda was genuinely surprised as she had understood the bypass had been reconnected. Within ten minutes, the man who had done the majority of work on the boat, Angel, was on board. He checked a few things and I told him what I had found. After a moment, he looked at me and said, “I’m sorry, this is on me. I should have taken a look to check the work and I didn’t. We’ll take care of it.” It took a little over a week to get the replacement element from the manufacturer, but once it arrived, Angel was at the boat and had it installed. The new element is working perfectly and we now have scalding hot water! While we were waiting for the water heater element, we ticked other tasks off of our list, such as the replacement of the bow navigation light with a new and better one, swapping out our old and worn docklines for new ones, and a thorough cleaning of JO BETH’s decks and deck house.

I want to say Lisa and I are quite happy with the quality of work and professionalism we experienced at Washburn’s. Any requests and concerns were addressed promptly, as were any questions we had regarding our invoices. Angel sent us photos and text message updates on work done in our absence. And when a miscommunication with the yard crew and yard office caused us to inadvertently damage the water heater, they stepped up and took care of the problem. We would return to Washburn’s in the future.

*One of three receipts from our initial provisioning runs*

Calvert Marina was also very accommodating and strangers we met there quickly became friends; they even monitored JO BETH in our absence, sending us pictures and weather updates. (Thank you Don and Kim!) This one of the aspects of the cruising life we treasure.

A few days after the water heater repairs were completed, we did a couple of major provisioning runs to get ready to leave Solomons and head to Deltaville, Virginia, where our sails were being stored by our sailmaker’s loft, Latell sails. On a very calm Saturday morning, we slipped our docklines at Calvert Marina and motored away, heading up the Patuxent River a few miles to an anchorage in St. Leonard Creek. This was a short ‘shakedown cruise,’ to put a couple of hours on the motor to be sure we had no issues – we didn’t – before tackling the nearly 70 miles down Chesapeake Bay to Deltaville. For the next few days, JO BETH was strictly a motorboat.

*Our anchorage in St. Leonard Creek, following a short ‘shakedown’ cruise from Solomons*

We spent a decent night at anchor and early the next morning, under a leaden and menacing sky, powered down St. Leonard Creek back into the Patuxent. As we passed under the bridge which separates the peninsula where Solomons is from mainland Maryland, we were struck by an oddly ferocious squall. I say ‘oddly ferocious’ as we were hit with blinding heavy rain and hailstones! And although our wind instruments recorded a wind gust of 187 knots – nearly 215 mph – we only experienced actual winds of 12 knots. We think the crazy reading from the wind instruments was due to hailstones, which were quite small, about pea sized. Soon the squall cleared and we were back in the Chesapeake Bay under mostly sunny skies.

We were making good time until we were halfway across the mouth of the Potomac River. The lower Potomac is tidal, and we had timed our passage to cross with an outgoing tide. It was a washing machine! JO BETH rolled and corkscrewed in the confused waves, even dipping her side rails into the water a few times. I was keenly aware we were a motorboat, and had no sails. We had a moderate northwesterly breeze behind us. Had we had our sails, we would have had a fast and boisterous romp along the bay. Instead, I could only think, ‘if we lose the motor, we are SCREWED!’ Lisa later confessed to the same worries. One things is certain – we’ll never do that again!

*Brownies made at anchor on a rainy day using our new Omnia stove top oven - sort of a modified Dutch Oven, but more versatile*

Soon enough we entered the slightly less boisterous Great Wicomico River and made for our anchorage in Mill Creek. We had a wonderfully quite night at anchor and were up at dawn to make more miles south to Deltaville before forecasted strong southerlies began that afternoon. After a quiet and uneventful run, we were anchored in Jackson Creek. The next morning Jerry Latell came to the boat and together, we got JO BETH’s sails bent on once again. The main thing that remains is to get modifications made to our mainsail cover to make it safer to use at sea.

We plan to be in Deltaville until the last week of May. We have friends here we’ve met along the way that we’ll be visiting. From here, we’ll sail to the Norfolk/Hampton area to top up provisions and wait for a good weather window to sail for New England. We’re planning a return trip to Maine, and are making another run for Nova Scotia at the end of July. We’ll keep you posted.

*A Chesapeake Bay ‘Buy’ Boat, the* ***F.D. CROCKETT,*** *at The Deltaville Maritime Museum; buy boats were used to buy harvested oysters from the skipjacks which harvested them under sail; the* ***CROCKETT*** *was built in 1924*

***JO BETH,*** *is fully rigged once again*

UPDATES…

Yes, yes, it’s all been said before:

I’m continuing to work on our first ‘real’ video for the YouTube Channel. Please click on the YouTube icon on the lower left portion of the page to see our channel, and please subscribe and click the notifications bell. It costs nothing, and these actions will help push our channel into the YouTube universe. This blog will continue to be updates, but the posts will become less frequent, and oriented towards my photography.

The Consulting for Cruisers Service launch is still in the works. If living and cruising aboard a sailboat (or powerboat) is something you’re curious about, and you believe it’s a way of life suited to you, then let us share our combined years of sailing and live-aboard experience, as well as my knowledge and expertise from a successful career as marine surveyor, to make your dream a reality. Please contact us via the Contact page for information regarding services and pricing.

Regarding Bill Ballard Photography, I’m continuing to work to make selected photographs available for sale, either as prints or as digital files. Digital files will make gorgeous screen savers and wallpapers. Framed prints will look amazing on your walls or desk, and will serve as a reminder to keep on dreaming! I’ve found a lab to work with and am working on getting pricing set. Please contact us via the Contact page for information regarding image sizes and pricing.

The Road Home from Florida

March 01, 2024

JO BETH waits for us in Solomons, Maryland, nested ashore in her wintering spot at Washburn’s Boat Yard. Lisa and I have left our friend’s home in Fernandina Beach, FL, and are now staying with friends in Wilmington, NC, for a few weeks before continuing on to Yorktown, VA where we have some gear stashed in a friend’s storage locker. We were in Fernandina Beach for three months, and while we’re eternally grateful to our friends for the hospitality extended to us, we were ready to start moving homeward once my physical therapy was finished. Certainly, they’re happy to have their home to themselves once again.

*This photograph was made on October 27, 2023 in Solomons, Maryland, aboard* ***JO BETH****, a couple of days after I awoke with a pinched nerve in my cervical spine; my left hand (to your right) is turned outward and my fingers were in the process of slowly turning into my palm…*

My final physical therapy appointment in Fernandina Beach was early on the morning of February 12, and we left for North Carolina the following day. It was good to be on the move again, even in a car; confirmation Lisa and I are nomads at heart. Reuel and Pam, cruising friends we met during our travels now living ashore for a bit, have been very kind to host us. They are spoiling us though. Reuel prepares breakfast and coffee for everyone each morning, a ritual he and Pam share and in which they include us, and Pam makes delicious dinners. We’ve only been permitted to prepare meals once! They even do the cleanup afterwards, despite our insistence that we contribute in some small way.

This photograph was taken on February 29, 2024, in Wilmington, NC; my left hand (to your right) is much straighter and my fingers, most of the time, will stay straight when I want them to; the ring and pinky finger remain occasionally uncooperative, but two months plus of physical therapy and care are paying off…

I am mostly recovered, with just a bit of lingering weakness in my left arm and frequently uncooperative ring and pinky fingers on my left hand to remind me of the situation. The pain, numbness, and tingling are long gone, as is the inability to perform routine tasks like holding a fork or spoon, picking up a glass to drink form, tying my shoes, buttoning buttons and so on. My left hand grip is not 100%, but is significantly better than it had been. The folks at Brooks Rehabilitation Services were excellent, and I would be remiss in not extending a public ‘thank you’ to the therapists who worked with me – Brittany, Erin, Robert, and Leigh-Ann – all showing tremendous patience for my wise cracks, awful jokes, and once or twice, albeit well intended, me questioning their professional authority. I couldn’t have made it this far on my own.

Time in Wilmington has been spent preparing for the return to Maryland and JO BETH. I have compiled a task list of things to do once back in Solomons. Nearly two and a half pages long and growing, it is an intimidating and frightening thing to see. Perhaps it won’t be so bad, though. Much of the list are tasks like a deep clean of the interior and all of the storage spaces – this is the first time since 2018 the boat has been nearly completely emptied. Cleaning is not an opportunity to let slip by. It also presents a chance to reorganize her lockers and stores – again.

What is concerning is the initializing and ‘reawakening’ of shut down systems. It’s more likely than not that something will not work or only work partially. Our hope is that anything which has failed during her long winter’s nap will be minimal, something for which we have a spare readily at hand, and not expensive. Electrical and electronic systems are particularly prone to failure after long-term shutdowns; mechanical systems are also, but to a lesser degree. Plus, there are some tasks the boatyard can’t complete until we’ve returned. In the end, as it always is with everything, it will be what it is. We’ll deal with it accordingly. As I said in the previous post, it’s going to be – and it already is - a busy winter and spring.

*The area of Wilmington in which we’re staying is near the campus of The University of North Carolina at Wilmington, and features miles of beautiful walking trails…*

We’re also continuing to work at knocking down the insurance obstacles we’ve encountered in trying to obtain a policy for JO BETH while sailing internationally. Mostly, we need the policy to meet requirements of marinas and boatyards for dock space and haul outs as needed. The primary issues most often brought up by underwriters are the age of the boat – JO BETH is 40 this year – and the length of the boat – 34 feet, bow to stern. Most insurance companies now consider our boat to be too small for ocean voyaging, even though that’s what she was designed and built to do. Ten years ago, this wouldn’t have been an issue. Now, they want us to have a boat at least 40’ in length; some have even said 45’. No company we’ve spoken with wants to insure boats older than 30 years, a few have said no older than 20.

In the collective minds of marine insurance underwriters, bigger is better and age equals degradation; that JO BETH has been fully refit and all her critical systems updated and modernized is irrelevant. We could have crossed an ocean or cruised ‘the islands’ in other boats, and while we’ve not made a crossing, we have sailed in other areas of the world on a variety of different boats. None of that matters – underwriters want our experience to be on the boat we want to insure and in the waters we want to travel.

We’re still trying to find something which will satisfy our requirements, but I’m not optimistic. I very much believe that soon, we will be cruising as the vast majority of cruisers are: self-insured.

Otherwise, Lisa’s business has picked up, and when I haven’t been working on polishing up my photo and video skills, writing, and resuming my long unused sketching practice, I’ve ridden around coastal North Carolina with Reuel, who works as a yacht broker, to see boats he’s brokering for sale. There’s also a large network of walking trails, connected to the University of North Carolina at Wilmington campus where Lisa and I try to take daily walks.

We’ve stayed with Reuel and Pam several times in our travels, and have grown very fond Wilmington. Their pets, ‘Ham,’ a high energy Catahoula Leopard Hound, and Rusty, ‘aka Lord of the Manor,’ a gentleman ginger cat, provide endless entertainment and company. Oddly enough, in the few weeks we’ve been here, we’ve had consistently better weather than we did during our time in Florida. Days and days of sun with comfortable temperatures have been in abundance. Still, more than anything, we’re ready to be home.

*This is Rusty, aka ‘Lord of the Manor…’*

Upcoming…

I’m continuing to work on our next update for the YouTube Channel. Unfortunately, there will be precious little sailing in the episode, but it will be a full update on what’s been happening and what our future plans are. Please click on the YouTube icon on the lower left portion of the page to see our channel, and please subscribe and click the notifications bell. It costs nothing, and these actions will help push our channel into the YouTube universe. This blog will continue to be updates, but the posts will become less frequent, and oriented towards my photography.

The Consulting for Cruisers Service launch is still in the works. Even in our absence from the boat, we’re still asked about JO BETH and our live-aboard cruising lifestyle. If this is something you’re curious about, and you believe it’s a way of life suited to you, then let us share our combined years of sailing and live-aboard experience, as well as my knowledge and expertise from a successful career as marine surveyor, to make your dream a reality. Please contact us via the Contact page for information regarding services and pricing.

Regarding Bill Ballard Photography, I’m continuing to work to make selected photographs available for sale, either as prints or as digital files. My search for a professional printing service that can work with us and our nomadic lifestyle continues, and I’m narrowing it down to one or two labs I believe I can trust. Digital files will make gorgeous screen savers and wallpapers. Framed prints will look amazing on your walls or desk, and will serve as a reminder to keep on dreaming! Please contact us via the Contact page for information regarding image sizes and pricing.

Well, How Did We Get Here?

December 31, 2023

First off, here’s to a happy, healthy, and safe 2024 for us all.

JO BETH is laid up in Solomons, Maryland. Her crew – Lisa and I - are laid up in Fernandina Beach, Florida. Since September’s update, we’ve left New England and have sailed to the Chesapeake Bay, departing from Newport, Rhode Island and stopping at Sandy Hook, New Jersey. From Sandy Hook, we sailed to Cape May, New Jersey and then transited Delaware Bay to the Chesapeake Bay. We’ve spent time with friends in Baltimore and Annapolis, Maryland, and also in Yorktown, Virginia. We enjoyed a wonderful and quiet week anchored in the gorgeous Sassafras River in Northern Maryland, and visited the quaint towns of St. Michaels and Rock Hall, MD. We visited Baltimore for a few days before heading to Annapolis, Maryland where we had a mooring in Annapolis Harbor for several weeks. While there, we attended both the Annapolis Powerboat and Sailboat shows.

*We had a completely windless passage from Newport, RI to Sandy Hook, NJ*

How did we suddenly land in Florida from Maryland? On the morning we left the tiny harbor at St. Michaels, I awoke with a knotted upper back and lower neck on my left side. It was more annoying than anything, and I presumed I had slept in weird position. We had a very rough exit from St. Michaels, powering directly into 20-25 knots of wind, about 10 knots stronger than forecast, and a very steep and squared off two-three foot chop. I used the motion of the boat and the sheet winches to make sort of a ‘rolfing’ action on my knotted up back with little relief gained.

*Atlantic Ocean sunrise, off of Long Island, New York*

By the time we entered the main body of the Chesapeake Bay, the wind had died and we were forced to continue on our way south to Solomons, Maryland, under motor power. We entered the Patuxent River and made our way into the harbor just as the sun was setting. We had been planning to take a mooring as the harbor at Solomons is quite small. But Lisa had found a very affordable marina, so we made arrangements for three or four nights at its floating docks.

However, by the time we were secured for the night, I noticed my left arm and hand were very weak. I had barely been able to handle dock lines or the shore power cord while securing JO BETH. Fearing a recurrence of the nerve injury I experienced a couple of years ago, (click here to read that post), Lisa and I agreed I would seek medical help the next day, or at least I would try to get an appointment with a massage therapist. Prior to our arrival at Solomons, we contacted our friends Michael and Susan who live aboard their sailboat CALYPSO in Solomons. They very generously offered us the use of one of their cars for the duration of our stay and recommended a massage therapist.

*We spent a peaceful week at anchor in the Sassafras River, off the Upper Chesapeake Bay, surrounded by ospreys, bald eagles, and an array of egrets and herons*

I was able to get into the massage therapist’s office on the following morning and did gain some relief. My arm and hand continued to grow weaker, and after another day, my left hand was slowly contracting into a claw shape. Our health insurance plan provides for Teladoc visits and after completing such a visit with a Maryland physician, I began a course of anti-inflammatory medications and following a program of stretches and exercises.

Unfortunately, I began to experience significant pain and only a day after the Teladoc call, had lost the full use of my left arm and hand. Getting in and out of the cabin, and on and off the boat, was excruciating at times and becoming dangerous. Moving between the boat and dock was an accident waiting to happen; I wasn’t sleeping well and was unable to perform even routine tasks on board.

*The good ship* ***MINX****, friends we met in New England, passing us heading to her fall base in the upper bay*

On Monday of the following week, I contacted an orthopedist’s office in nearby California, Maryland, and to my astonishment, I was able to get an appointment that afternoon. I was seen by one of the practice’s Physician Assistants, who was visibly alarmed by the state of my arm and hand. She immediately ordered x-rays and MRI. She also set up an appointment with one of the practice’s surgeons for the following morning. That surgeon referred me to a neurosurgeon near Washington, DC, also scheduling an appointment for the me the next day. I was handed a formal diagnosis during my visit with the orthopedic surgeon: a pinched brachial-plexus nerve caused by either bone spurs due to arthritis and/or multiple herniated discs in my cervical spine – my neck – pressing on the nerve. The pressure was on the nerve root where the nerve exits the spinal cord and passes through openings in the vertebrae. She also indicated her opinion surgery was in my very near future.

Early the next morning, Lisa and I made the four hour drive to Chevy Chase, Maryland for my appointment with the neurosurgeon. There, the surgeon and PA reviewed my x-ray and MRI and put me through a battery of tests once again. And, pretty much as expected, I was told surgery was my best option. It was at this time that Lisa and I were hit with the gravity of the situation. We knew we had to develop a plan.

*While in the tiny and shallow harbor at Rock Hall, Maryland, we had to ride out the passage of Tropical Storm Ophelia*

To put it bluntly, surgery was not an option for me, for us, while in Maryland. Recovery from spinal surgery on a small sailboat is not tenable. While we have friends in Maryland, we had no place to stay where I could recover as the majority of our friends there live aboard their sailboats. We have friends in North Carolina where we could have stayed, after having the surgery in there; but, our health insurance is based in Florida, and Florida is our legal state of residency. Plus, it can get cold along the North Carolina coast in winter. Accordingly, we reached out to friends in Fernandina Beach, and made arrangements to stay there. We felt with all things considered, it was our best option.

*The beautiful Magothy River, just south of Baltimore, Maryland*

In the span of one week, Lisa and I purchased a used car and made arrangements to have JO BETH hauled, winterized, and put into storage. We emptied the boat of everything which could freeze or be damaged by the cold, drained the water tanks and deck jugs, topped up the fuel tank, and emptied the refrigerator/freezer. We arranged for the boatyard where JO BETH is stored to complete maintenance and repair tasks we had planned to do over the winter. Our sailmaker came and undressed the boat, taking the sails back to his loft in Deltaville, Virginia, for inspection and repair. By the end of that week, we were standing in our friend’s driveway in Florida.

Even before arriving in Florida we began the search for a neurosurgeon from whom we could get a second opinion. It’s here that I should mention another component of this story: I was never convinced surgery was my best or only option. In the weeks since this all began, I had taken it upon myself to work towards recovery. The week we left Maryland, I couldn’t pick up my cell phone from a table and had tremendous difficulty getting it out of a pants pocket. I couldn’t hold a glass in my left hand, or loosen a jar lid. Pushing open a car door was extremely difficult. Tying shoe laces was an exercise in futility.

*The relatively small town of Annapolis, Maryland, the state capital, gets crazy-busy during the fall boat shows*

I was able to get an appointment with a neurosurgeon in Jacksonville, Florida, about three weeks after arriving. One of the first things I did after getting to Fernandina Beach was to contact a longtime friend whose daughter works as a Physical Therapy Assistant in another state. I was able to connect with her daughter who sent me a program of basic stretches and exercises to do.

*Quaint St. Michaels Harbor on Maryland’s Eastern Shore*

*The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels is absolutely phenomenal*

When the second opinion appointment came around, and while sitting in the surgeons waiting room, I did a quick self-evaluation. I had regained some strength in my left arm and hand. Managing my cell phone was fairly routine now, and using silverware and handling glasses was no problem. I was able to drive with no issues and the pain in my arm and hand was almost non-existent. There were still areas of numbness and tingling, but it had continued to diminish a bit each day. I had regained about 60% of the motor control for my left hand and fingers. I was ready to present my case for not being a good candidate for surgery.

***JO BETH*** *in winter storage, Solomons, Maryland*

Soon, I was in the exam room with the surgeon. He was attentive and listened to what I had to say. He had read my X-Ray and MRI and essentially repeated the diagnosis; a pinched nerve in the cervical spine. However, while he agreed there are several herniated and deteriorated discs, he believed the bone spurs caused by arthritis were the direct cause of the pinched nerve. And much to my great relief, he agreed with me that surgery isn’t my best option – at least, not right now and likely not for several years.

I liked him immensely. He spent close to an hour with me, even asking me to accompany him to his office to review my MRI. Once there, he went over not only the issues with my neck and the pinched nerve, but showed me where there is a lot of arthritis in my spine. He had asked about my working life, what I did for hobbies, did I play sports, and the like. I told him about my lifetime of basically abusing my spine: seven years of skydiving, undisciplined weightlifting as a teenager, and many miles of hiking and backpacking with a pack weighing far too much, not to mention the three decades I’ve spent bobbing around the ocean in sailboats. He is Bulgarian, and in his heavy accent, said with a smile, “a life well lived, and now your bill is coming due.” I left his office with a prescription for eight weeks of physical therapy, which I just started last week. I’m delighted to say, I continue to make gains on my own.

*I really enjoy my daily walks along the Egan’s Creek Greenway in Fernandina Beach, Florida*

So what’s next for us and for JO BETH? The boat is secured and fine where she is. It’s odd being away from her, but progress is being made on her projects and she’s being looked after by a couple of friends we have there. For us, we’re working at not making a nuisance of ourselves to our hosts, and expressing our gratitude and appreciation for their generosity by doing much of the meal prep and cooking, etc. The weather in Fernandina Beach has been quite ‘un-Florida like’ with long stretches of overcast and chilly days, with sunny and comfortable days being somewhat infrequent. Still, I manage to do some extended walking on a nearly daily basis, usually something between three and five miles on local trails. I also have daily ‘homework’ from my physical therapist. I’ve been working on getting the YouTube channel fully operational and am taking a deep dive back into my photography passion.

We expect to return to Solomons and JO BETH sometime in March. It will take a few weeks to get her ready to float again and to start sailing. Systems which have been shut down have to be brought back online and tested. We have to move back aboard and get things organized, and after all of that, we’ll have to make the motor run to Deltaville, VA, to get her sails bent-on once again. It’s going to be a busy winter and spring.

*North Beach, Fernandina Beach, Florida*

Southeastern New England – Newport and Bristol Rhode Island; Cuttyhunk Island, New Bedford, and Hadley Harbor/Naushon Island, Massachusetts

September 01, 2023

Photography tells the story once again. As before, this post will have (somewhat) fewer words and more pictures, with captions enough to tell the tale. There are announcements and updates, so please read through!

Newport is one of the more boater-friendly towns we’ve visited - there are numerous dinghy docks, places to drop trash and recyclables, free public transportation, and installations such as this, a dock in the harbor specifically for cruising yachts to fill their water tanks at no charge.

JO BETH and crew are currently in Newport Harbor, Newport, Rhode Island. We’re preparing to sail back to the west, and then south, to the Chesapeake Bay. While there, we’re planning to attend the Annapolis Boat Show, catch up with friends in Baltimore, Annapolis, Deltaville, Yorktown, Solomons, and in a few other spots. We also have an extensive list of maintenance projects and other jobs to take care of aboard JO BETH. It’s going to be a busy fall!

Originally the Customs House, and later the Town Armory, the Newport Maritime Center offers sailors a multitude of services including showers, toilets, laundry, WiFi, all in a clean and well maintained public facility; the Newport Sailing Museum occupies the upper floor

And now, the news…

We have (FINALLY!) launched our YouTube Channel! Please click on the YouTube icon on the lower left portion of the page to go to our channel, and please subscribe and click the notifications bell. It costs nothing, and these actions will help push our channel into the YouTube universe. Our blog posts will become less frequent and more oriented towards my photography.

Newport is known for it’s mansions from the American Gilded Age, owned by industrialists such as the Vanderbilt and Berwind families - they were often referred to as ‘cottages’ or ‘summer houses;’ this is The Breakers, built and owned by the Vanderbilt family and below is The Elms, built and owned by the Berwind family - many thanks to my childhood friend Jim, who now lives in Rhode Island, for showing us around

I have received many compliments on my photographs which accompany the blog posts and updates on our Instagram and Facebook pages. I am grateful and appreciative of the kind words. I’m excited to announce that selected photographs will soon be available for purchase, either as prints or as digital files. Framed prints will look amazing on your walls or desk, and will serve as a reminder to always aim for your goals! Digital files will make gorgeous screen savers and wallpapers for your laptop and tablet. Please reach out to us via the Contact page for information regarding image sizes and pricing. You can find the photographs available (images coming very soon) for purchase by clicking here.

*Unfortunately, we weren’t able to see the interior of The Elms; we were able to tour the interior of The Breakers - this is the library; below is the main kitchen*

Last, I am happy to announce the launch of my Consulting for Cruisers Service. Hardly a day goes by when we’re in port, that one or more individuals or couples doesn’t stop us to talk about JO BETH and the live aboard/cruising lifestyle. Sometimes, these are people just starting out on their boats, but more often than not, they’re folks who are dreaming of seeing the world by boat just as we used to do. If this is you, then let us share our combined years of sailing and live-aboard experience, and my knowledge and expertise from a successful career as marine surveyor to help make your dream a reality. We will offer input on finding and purchasing your yacht, what to look for in a marine surveyor, what to expect from the dollars and cents perspective, and so on. We’re confident you’ll find this very affordable service to be invaluable in reaching your cruising dreams. Please get in touch via the Contact page for information regarding services and pricing.

Enjoy the post!

*New England in general, and Newport in particular, are havens for some of the most impressive and beautiful yachts in the world; starting with this image of* ***SOPHIE***, here are just a few

*Castle Rock Lighthouse, at the entrance to Newport Harbor*

*Passing under the Pell Bridge over Narraganset Bay en-route to Bristol, RI*

While in Bristol, RI, we visited the amazing Herreshoff Museum; a premiere museum of American wooden boat building of not just yachts, but commercial and military vessels; these photographs (above and below) are from the ‘Hall of Boats’ wing of the museum

The only two Cabo Rico 56 yachts in the world - both in Bristol Harbor - ***QUETZAL*** *is on the right;* ***TRINITY GRACE*** is on the left

We really enjoyed our time on tiny Cuttyhunk Island, the eastern most of Massachusetts’s Elizabeth Islands, separating the Atlantic Ocean from Buzzards Bay; only 10 or so residents live on the island through the full year; there are no cars, no banks or ATM’s and very spotty cell service

*The school kids on Cuttyhunk (high school and college) operate the Raw Bar boat in the harbor every afternoon; fresh local oysters, clams, shrimp, and chowder are available and delicious…see below*

*Cuttyhunk ‘billboard,’ at the only 4-way intersection on the island*

*Cuttyhunk only has two paved roads, covering a total of 1.5 miles; the remainder of roads are like this*

*The Atlantic Ocean from Cuttyhunk Island; the distant gray line on the horizon is the island of Martha’s Vineyard*

*New Beford Harbor in Massachusetts boasts the largest commercial scalloping fleet in the world*

*TNew Bedford also hosts the New Bedford Whaling Musuem, which is absolutely spectacular - a highly recommended spot to visit*

*New Bedford Whaling Museum, New Bedford, MA*

*This beautiful, old building is The New Bedford, Massachusetts High School…still in use today*

*The weather this season has been less than ideal, but it has made for some spectacular sights*

*The Butfler Flats Lighthouse, no longer in use, marks the shallow and dangerous Butler Flats at the entrance to New Beford Harbor; modern lighted buoys with automated fog horns now have the watch*

We had heard good things about Hadley Harbor, at the eastern end of the Elizabeth Islands in Massachusetts, for years, and we were very happy we made the effort to get there and in through the very challenging and rocky entrance channel…it is beautiful…wild horses roam Naushon Island, the largest of the Elizabeth Islands and owned by the Forbes family

*Friends told us about a small cove within Hadley Harbor where the low tide dried out a sand spit…gorgeous…and a great place to clean the summer growth from Scoots’ bottom*

*We had a lovely return sail to Newport, RI from Hadley Harbor; Cuttyhunk Island is just visible on the horizon in the center of the frame*

*In Newport Harbor, we wait for good weather to begin sailing for the Chesapeake Bay, the northern end of which is some 300 nautical miles distant*

A Lesson Re-Learned the Hard Way...

June 21, 2023

This is not an ordinary blog post. It’s the story of something that nearly ended our cruising altogether, at least for one if not both of us. I hope other sailors will glean some helpful reminders from one of our worst days upon the sea. If you’re not inclined to read the post, here’s a spoiler alert: I (Bill) went overboard during a squall some 10 miles or so SE of Cape May, NJ. I survived. If you want the details, you gotta read on…

JO BETH was rumbling along under engine power, her mainsail and jib furled and stowed, some 10 miles southeast of the entrance channel at Cape May Harbor on New Jersey’s southern coast. Squalls were building rapidly around us; a small and very fast moving one had just raced across the Atlantic Ocean a mile or two in front of us. Winds were blowing from the South-Southwest at 25-28 knots, with a few lulls around 22 knots. The waves were short and choppy, around three feet or so, with an occasional five footer slamming our hull as they rolled in from the South. JO BETH rolled and yawed a bit, but we were doing fine, warm and reasonably comfortable in the cockpit enclosure.

We had passed Ocean City, Maryland a few hours earlier, close enough to the coast to have cell signal to listen to a low-bandwidth weather briefing. The forecast was unfolding pretty much as stated, the only thing off being the timing of the squalls and thunderstorms. They were not predicted to be in our area until much later in the day, around five or six o’clock, but they were on us now, at noon. The forecast also warned some of the thunderstorms could produce winds of 50, 60, or even 70 knots – bordering those of a strong tropical storm – and it was this which had us concerned most. Almost always, these strongest winds occur early in the squall and diminish rapidly.

*Conditions pre-squall and pre-’event’ about 15 miles SE of Cape May, NJ…winds in the low 20 knot range…*

We were now crossing the mouth of Delaware Bay, a busy commercial shipping highway for the ports of Baltimore and Philadelphia. We had already been passed by container ships, coal ships, bulk carriers and tankers. I made security calls on the VHF radio, advising all traffic of our presence and that we were crossing the designated traffic lanes.

Our hourly log entries over the prior few hours revealed a steadily falling barometer. Lisa and I had dropped all sail and secured JO BETH as best we could, ready for the inevitable hit that was coming. I was not happy with the way the mainsail had furled when dropped. The aft end of the sail had pressed down the aft most leg of the port side lazyjacks and partially spilled over the boom. I had tucked it away as best I could given the conditions, but was worried that, with enough wind, the sail might come billowing out of the cover and create problems. The solution was simple; I just had to clip in my safety harness to the starboard side jackline, a length of wide nylon webbing secured to the side decks of the boat, then stand on the cockpit coaming and while holding on with one hand, reach and grab the sail cover zipper pull with the other and close the sail cover. It’s something I’d done dozens and dozens of times with the boat underway, at anchor, and secured to a dock. No big deal.

Lisa disagreed with me. She felt the sail was secured well enough, and that if the wind did catch it, we’d deal with it accordingly. I argued that an ounce of prevention was always better than a pound of cure. Lisa relented and out I went onto the starboard side deck after clipping my life jacket harness onto the jackline.

*A typical inflateable PFD and harness arrangment; the yellow manual activation handle is at the bottom of the vest and pictured below it is my double tether…*

The boom was hauled in tight, but still swung from side to side a bit with the motion of the boat. I had a solid handhold on the grabrail on the side of the cockpit enclosure, and leaned over the frame of the cockpit enclosure reaching for the zipper pull with my left hand. The zipper pulled easily, and it was then I realized the zipper ends had separated and were no longer joined. The zipper is a basic pull-type, exactly like the ones on jackets and sweaters, just larger. ‘I only need a second,’ myself said to myself. I let go of the handhold and leaned further over the enclosure, my upper chest resting on the boom, and reached for the zipper, grabbing both sides of the cover and pulling them together. Then, in one split second, I was weightless, holding nothing.

It was at the moment I let go of the handrail that one of those five-foot waves rolled under the boat. JO BETH rolled to port, and then snap-rolled back to starboard. The swing of the boom came back into my upper chest and flung me backwards into the air. I was unaware of what happened until I was fully submerged in the Atlantic Ocean. I didn’t even have time to blink; I stared into a green-blue mix of bubbles and water. There was no panic, no ‘oh-shit.’ If anything, there was disbelief. That disbelief was soon cleared away.

JO BETH was still moving through the water under motor power at five and a half or six knots. Our harnesses use a double tether system; one is a no-stretch tether which measures one meter, a little more than three feet; and one is a ‘stretchy’ tether, which measures two meters when fully stretched, around six and a half feet. When I clipped my harness to the jackline on the deck, I used the ‘stretchy’ tether. Now being drug through the water by our eight ton sailboat, the tether pulled taught with a snap, yanking me forward and slamming me chest-first into the bottom of the boat. The pressure of JO BETH’s slipstream simultaneously pinned me against the hull, while pushing me back towards the surface. The wind was coming over the portside, and was heeling the boat to starboard, placing the caprail a bit lower than if she were floating fully upright. Still facing forward, I was able to reach up and grab the caprail, pulling my head from the water, where I promptly was hit in the face by two waves, swallowing mouthfuls of ocean. I spun myself around so my back was to the bow and looked up into Lisa’s stone faced expression, her eyes wide with shock, peering back at me.

It was now that I realized my automatic inflating PFD (PFD = Personal Flotation Device, or lifejacket) had not deployed. I had been in the water for perhaps 30 seconds. The PFD inflation system should have activated within the first 5 or 10 seconds; 15 seconds at most. The vest is fitted with a manual inflation activation system as a back-up to the auto function, but I didn’t think of that at the time. My entire focus, and that of Lisa, was getting me back onto the boat.

This is the actual vest inside the covering panels; you can see reflective tape on the life preserver portion which is deployed by a water activated Co2 cartridge in the gray housing on the vest panel in the upper portion of the picture; the black line secures a (very loud!) whistle to the vest; in addition, we have electronic locator beacons and lights that will also be attached…

Lisa had moved back to the cockpit and put the motor into neutral idle. Almost immediately, the incredible pressure of the slipstream eased, but JO BETH didn’t come to a stop. The strong winds and waves still pushed her along at a knot or two. Lisa then slacked and lowered a jib sheet (a ‘sheet’ in sailing terms is a line used to control a sail; on most sailboats, the jib is the large sail at the bow end of the boat) into the water and then tensioned it to form a ‘dip’ for me to use as a step to get my chest and shoulders clear of the water. When this was done, I asked her to grab my harness and pull me up so I could get a better hold on the rails by wrapping my arms fully around them. I had tried pulling myself up and swinging my legs to the rails. It wasn’t happening. I’m too short, and the pressure created by water dragging against my legs and torso eliminated that as a recovery option. Once I had a more secure hold with my arms and was standing on the jib sheet, I began to relax a little. It was then I realized Lisa was on deck without her vest or harness.

“Get your harness on,” I told her.

“No,” she answered, “we don’t have time. I’ve got to get the ladder moved to this side.” JO BETH’s boarding ladder was fitted on the port side of the boat, but it can be easily moved to either side.

“Get your harness on,” I said more urgently, adding, “if you go in, this is over for both of us.”

She went and quickly slipped into her harness. My arm grip on the rails was weakening.

“Hurry!” I yelled.

Once the ladder was set and lowered, I found it incredibly difficult to release my grip on the rails. This was partially out of a literal fear of letting go, but due more to the fact my arms and hands were cramping intensely. I had been overboard three or more minutes now, and I had no choice. Now wearing her vest and clipped in, Lisa grabbed my harness as I reached for the ladder with my right hand. Together, we pulled me over, and after finding the lower rung with my right foot, I swung the rest of the way and was fully on the ladder. We hadn’t deployed the ladder legs, which would have stood the ladder off from the hull, as I was afraid I couldn’t maintain my hold long enough. The ladder rungs were against the hull, which meant only my toes were on them. I found the next rung, and the next, and was then able to reach a handrail of the deckhouse and pull myself back on deck. I was safe.

It took me a few seconds to get situated. My mouth and eyes stung with salt water, and my arms and hands were shaking from the exertion of holding on to the boat. (And from adrenaline!) Lisa helped me back into the cockpit and zipped the enclosure fully closed. “My vest didn’t deploy,” I stammered. We then recovered and secured the starboard jib sheet from the water and put the engine back into gear. Not a minute later, the full force of the squall hit, with a peak wind of 52 knots observed – that’s just under 60 miles per hour; comparable to a strong tropical storm. The rain pounded down hard, and visibility dropped to mere feet. The waves built into a steep six foot chop, and were more like moving walls of water than ocean waves. Blinding streaks of lightning flashed and thunder boomed. The strongest winds lasted just a few minutes, quickly dropping to the forty knot range, and then into the thirties.

Lisa steered us on a course to the east, putting the wind and waves on our stern quarter, and ran off. After about forty-five minutes, the rain had all but stopped and winds were down to 10 knots or so. A heavy, black cloud hung over us, and the horizon to the east was an unsettling green-gray, like a bad bruise on the sky. The skies to the west however, were bright and clearing. JO BETH heaved on the nearly windless sea, though the winds quickly returned to the lower twenty knot range from the north. The seas were settling back to the three to five foot range and we resumed our course for the entrance to Cape May Harbor. I was cold and opted for a change of dry clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I said after things were calmer.

Lisa looked at me. “Me too,” she said, worry still etched on her face.

“Thank you for getting me back on board,” I told her.

“You got yourself back aboard,” she said.

“We did it, both of us. Together,” I emphasized.

A moment passed and the skies brightened a bit more. JO BETH rolled in the swell. The motor purred, an unseen current giving us a boost towards the coast. We opened some of the enclosure panels to let in fresh air.

“Did I look scared?” I asked.

“No,” Lisa answered. “You looked pissed off and determined.” I think she sugar coated her answer. A lot.

“We need to call River Services and let them know about your vest not deploying,” she said.

We definitely did. They needed to know and would want to know. “I’ll call them when we’re in the entrance channel,” I said. “But yeah, they gotta know about this.”

“Let’s try for a marina slip,” Lisa added. “You need a fresh water rinse, and we could both use the break.” I agreed.

Unfortunately, we couldn’t get a slip until Tuesday, the following week. Until then, we would be anchored in the crowded harbor anchorage, which was fine. We couldn’t carry on to New England until my vest was replaced with a new unit. Once in the channel entrance and free of the ocean swell, I called River Services.

River Services is a business in Savannah, GA, which specializes in the sales and service of life saving equipment for commercial ships, yachts, and aircraft. We’ve done business with them for years and trust them completely. (And for the record, we’ll continue to work with them.) We have no reason whatsoever to believe any of the services or maintenance they performed contributed to the failure of my vest.

I spoke to the facility manager and president, Stephen. The concern in his voice was evident as I described what had happened. I went over the event in detail. I gave him the timetable of our most recent service and he promised to pull the service records and get back to me. In less than ten minutes, he called back. He asked that we ship the vest back to him for inspection and testing to figure out what had gone wrong; in the meantime, he arranged for a new vest and harness system to be shipped directly to me from the manufacturer. I could use this replacement harness as long as needed until I could return it to River Services when we sailed south in the fall.

Fast forward to Tuesday, the following week. We’re in a slip in South Jersey Marina, at the far western end of Cape May Harbor. A near gale is howling outside and periodic rain squalls sweep over us every so often, an actual nor’easter in June! The winds should ease by Thursday, and we’ll likely return to the harbor anchorage Thursday or Friday – marinas can be expensive – hopefully resume our course for New England by Saturday. The weather determines all, and will require close monitoring. The replacement vest has arrived, and Lisa and I overstuffed ourselves at dinner last night at The Cape May Lobster House. Today, we have to get laundry done, an Instacart order filled and delivered, and send the failed vest back to River Services for examination.

We’ve had discussions as to whether or not this ‘event’ (as we’ve taken to calling it) has put us off sailing and cruising. It hasn’t. What happened, happened because of a poor decision on my part – multiple poor decisions actually. Something I learned in my years a as marine surveyor investigating boating accidents is that accidents rarely happen because of a single event. It is almost always a series of oversights and lack of action, or taking the wrong action, and repeated lack of appropriate judgements and actions that lead to an accident. What happened to me in the Atlantic Ocean could have just as easily happened on a placid pond. It was not the fault of the weather, of JO BETH, or the ocean. I violated the age old sailor’s rule of, ‘one hand for the ship, one hand for yourself,’ and paid the price. This is and was, all on me.

Going overboard at sea is typically a death sentence; even in calm conditions, even if the crew sees you, even in good weather. Certainly, the chances of recovery are better in those conditions, but they are far from guaranteed. If you’re single handing, going over the side is a done deal; if you’re harnessed and tethered to the boat, the PFD/harness and tether become a body recovery system. If you’re not tethered, even when sailing with a crew, your chances of being recovered alive are further diminished. Going overboard at night, or without anyone knowing you’re gone, is most certainly the end of days. There are the miracle stories of lost crew being found alive after hours, even days in the water. Know that these are far and away the exception and not the rule.

These are facts all sailors accept as part of the cruising risk versus reward equation. The best thing is to do all you have to do to stay aboard the boat. Had our mainsail actually come unfurled in the squall, we could have dealt with it from the deck. Yes, it would have been a problem, and yes, it could have caused damage. But my decision to try and prevent what I now understand was a relatively unlikely scenario, (outside of my ‘prudent mariner’ thought process, such as it was), brought about an infinitely worse set of circumstances. Had I hit my head, had I broken a bone, had I become entangled under the boat, the outcome would have certainly been much worse.

We know many cruising sailors, several single handing, who trail a length of knotted line behind their boat. The idea is, if they fall overboard, they can grab the line and pull themselves back aboard. Plain and simple, they’re fooling themselves. Worse, they’re creating a tremendous false sense of security. Even if they can grab a wet line, with wet hands, streaming past them at six miles-per-hour or faster, and hang on, they’re not likely to be able to keep their hold on the line, much less pull themselves back to boat which would require repeated grab and release actions. It’s just not within the realm of capability for 99.99% of the sailors out there.

Once again, the best course of action is: do nothing which increases your risk of separation from the boat. Nothing.

I did experience a severe strain in my right hand. Five days beyond the event, I’m just now able to make a tightly closed fist and hold something like a pot or saucepan, without grimacing. My forearms are still bruised and sore, and my left bicep is strained. I received an ‘ocean manicure,’ as almost all of my fingernail tips have been peeled away, a couple of them down to the quick, and I have a bruise under my right ring finger nail. I’m very fortunate in that I didn’t hit my head. In our post analysis of the event, I offered the opinion that had I been clipped with the short tether, or clipped onto one of the two pad-eyes fitted in the cockpit, I might not have gone in the water, at least not fully. Lisa quickly pointed out that in either of those situations, the tether would have likely flipped me into a head down position, greatly increasing the chances of me hitting my head on the hull or deck. It also occurred to me that had the vest inflated, the drag it would have created would have been exponential. Additionally, had the vest inflated while I was clinging to the railings with my arms, the force of the inflation would have most certainly caused me to loose my grip. On the other hand, the inflated vest would have provided substantial buoyancy, possibly making it easier to get back on board. Of course, these are all suppositions.

I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened had any other part of the PFD harness/tether system failed; had my tether released or broke; had the manual activation of the vest also failed, and so on. I am extremely fortunate and I know it.

It bears repeating: do nothing which increases your risk of separation from the boat. Nothing.

We have a friend on another Pacific Seacraft 34, who is single handing, and left the Chesapeake the same time we did. She was a bit further east of us when the squalls hit and had some minor damage to her boom and canvas. She also is in Cape May, in the same marina, a few docks over from where we sit listening to the howling winds and pelting rain. When she heard about what happened with us, she revealed she had some concerns about damage to her her boom during the same squall which had steamrolled JO BETH. Fortunately, she had the smarts not to leave the shelter of the cockpit to investigate. It was unnerving when we couldn’t raise her on VHF for a couple of hours. She and her boat are fine.

As unlikely as it seems, there are good things to come from this. I know now that I was trusting my life to a defective piece of equipment. This was realized without injury, loss of life, or damage to the boat. Lisa and I now know we’re more capable than we thought to handle an emergency at sea, at least one of this nature. And we both understand how complacency has crept slowly into our shipboard routines over time.

*The calm after the storm - Cape May Harbor anchorage…*

I’m OK. Lisa’s OK. Ocean cruising on a yacht is often said to be hours of boredom punctuated by moments of terror. We couldn’t agree more. We’re through this and, for the most part, none the worse for wear. We’re back to something of our routine; boat chores, laundry, cleaning, provisioning, and monitoring weather forecasts. I still need a bit more rest; sleep has been a bit fitful at times. I have to be careful how I use my right hand. But mostly, we’re through this and ready to sail on.

I’ll post a more ‘regular’ update in the next couple of weeks.

***JO BETH*** *hauled at Tiger Point in Fernandina Beach, FL*

Fernandina Beach, FL to Washington, NC

May 20, 2023

JO BETH is underway once again, her recent haul out at Tiger Point Boat Works in Fernandina Beach, Florida completed. During the haul out, we tackled some long deferred maintenance and addressed a few necessary repair projects. The marine anti-fouling bottom paint was renewed, we uninstalled the reverse cycling air conditioning/heating system (which we hadn’t used in over a year), serviced the anchor windlass, and did a near complete maintenance and service on the auxiliary inboard diesel engine. This included replacing the coolant circulation pump and thermostat housing and thermostat and the original cooling system heat exchanger assembly and hoses. The remainder of the engine work was ordinary routine maintenance: oil and filter change, air breather system service, fuel system service, and gearbox service. The overly large engine throttle and shift control levers were replaced with a smaller, single-lever system. We also ordered a full inspection of the mast and rigging, something which had not been done since the completion of her refit in 2017.

In addition, we dove headlong into our planning for our summer cruise to Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island, Canada, ordering the appropriate paper charts, cruising guides, and the like. But most importantly, we need to take that first step in sailing to Canada, or anywhere for that matter – we need to start sailing again. That has proven to be extraordinarily difficult. It’s not sailing that has been the challenge; JO BETH is in great shape, well equipped and provisioned. Our challenge was and continues to be, the weather. An unusual spring weather pattern had settled over the southeastern US in March, with persistent and contrary winds, unseasonably cool temperatures, and an apparent resistance to change. Now mid-May, this pattern still persists.

*One of the projects we did while hauled out was to replace the old silicon plug for the anchor windlass navy pipe, which feeds the anchor chain in and out of the chain locker; this is the old plug…*

*…and this is ther replacement plug, cast by our friend Jessica; the color is bright red to improve the visibility of the plug*

We are ruled by weather above all else. Weather determines when we sail and when we hide; it propels us towards our chosen destinations and then just as often, prevents us from getting there. It is fickle, it is annoying, and it is an ongoing contradiction, being at the same time wholly predictable and wildly unpredictable. And there is nothing–not one thing–we can do change any of it.

*While at Tiger Point, I also improved* ***JO BETH’s*** *boom preventer system, which keeps the boom from swinging out of control when sailing downwind; this is the main preventer line in which I spliced in a shackle for connecting it to the boom…*

We left Fernandina Beach in early April, looking forward to a few quiet days at Cumberland Island, GA. We planned to spend a week or so at anchor there, decompressing from the pressures and hurry-up-and-wait lifestyle that is sailboat maintenance and repair work in a boat yard. And we did just that, lazing about in the unseasonably cool (but refreshing) temperatures, doing little more than reading, eating, sleeping, and watching other boats come and go. While we were at Cumberland, we had a surprise visit from our friend Jerry aboard his tug-trawler, TITAN. Jerry was just completing the Great Loop passage, a trip around the eastern half of the US and portions of Canada via the oceans and river systems.

We were waiting for a weather window to get from Cumberland Island to Beaufort, NC, or at least to Wrightsville Beach, NC, and barring that, to Charleston, SC. After a week or so at Cumberland, we had a favorable forecast to make Wrightsville Beach and made preparations to get underway.

While at Tiger Point, one of the projects we did was a service of the electric anchor windlass. The windlass had been installed by JO BETH’s previous owners, sometime in the late 1990’s as best we could determine. When we were buying JO BETH, I had a couple of lengthy conversations on the phone with Bud, her original owner, and the person who commissioned her construction, and I asked him about the windlass. He told me he liked it because it was simple and didn’t need much maintenance. “It’s just an electric motor with gears. Get some grease on the shafts and oil on the gears every so often. That’s all she needs.” Lisa and I have owned JO BETH for 20 years now, and I had never serviced the windlass.

The anchor windlass is made by the French company Lofrans and is the Tigres model. It is a beast of a machine but simple, as Bud described. Undeniably powerful, it seems a bit big for the boat. It has an electric-raise function, controlled by a foot-operated switch to raise the anchor and chain up from the seabed; deployment of the anchor is by ‘free-fall,’ or gravity. The windlass also has a manual operation override, so that if we experience an electrical system power failure on board or a problem with the electrical functioning of the windlass, we can still bring the anchor and chain in, albeit more slowly. JO BETH’s primary anchor weighs 44 pounds, and the 5/16” chain we use weighs just a little more than a pound per foot of length. We’re conservative sailors and routinely have around 100’ of chain out when anchored, more if bad weather is expected or the water depth warrants it. We generally try to set the anchor and chain at a 5:1 ‘scope;’ that is to say, we want at least five feet of chain out for every vertical foot of water depth. The deeper the water, the more chain we need to set out to be secured. That’s a lot of weight to have pull in vertically by hand!

We were primed and ready to head out of St. Marys Inlet and into the Atlantic, eager for the passage ahead. I went to press the foot switch to start pulling in chain and…nothing happened. No windlass motor noise, no rattle of chain tumbling into the chain locker, nothing. I started back to the cockpit and told Lisa I had forgotten to turn on the windlass breaker. She took a look and replied, “no, it’s on.” She asked me what was wrong and I told her the windlass wasn’t working. Her eyes narrowed and I knew what was coming next.

When I told Lisa we should service the windlass during the haul out period, she was against it. “It’s working fine, we’ve had no problems with it,” she protested. I pressed my case, and was met with, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” I told her it was broken, that the manual functions were seized and didn’t work at all, and that the gasket which seals the electrical motor housing was rotted. I had tried to inject grease through the grease nipple and it wouldn’t push even a sliver through. The gear box oil was a thick orange paste. The windlass needed to be serviced, or it was going to leave us in a serious jam, most likely at the worst possible time. I persisted and Lisa finally relented.

*The Lofrans Tigres Windlass service in progress…*

Now, she wasn’t happy. “I knew this was going to happen,” she muttered, and not at all to herself. She looked at me. “Didn’t I say this would happen?” I held both hands up. “Yes, you did, but this is something electrical. The service work done was all mechanical. Let me check the electrical connections below.” I did and found nothing amiss, except some suspiciously loose wiring on the foot switch. Unfortunately, the underside of the foot switch had been completely ensconced in polyurethane caulking by Bud, and it was impossible to see the actual wire connections. I couldn’t quite reach it with my short arms, and was out of options. Time to true test the manual operation of the windlass.

Lisa cast a serious side-eye my way as I went back on deck. “Hey,” I said with as much optimism as I could muster, “the manual operation works now.” I grabbed the windlass handle, a two and a half foot long stainless steel bar, and headed to the bow. After several minutes of grunting and ratcheting, the anchor and chain were aboard and secured. We then called the Tiger Point Boat Yard office and let them know we were heading back in with a (hopefully) minor problem. Indeed it was a minor problem – the foot switch had failed - and I had a spare switch aboard.

However, the delay cost us our weather window and when we left Fernandina Beach the following morning, we had favorable forecast conditions to make it to Charleston, SC., where we planned to stay anchored for another week of waiting. We slipped off the Tiger Point service dock just after sunrise and rode the last of the outgoing tide to the ocean, where we found conditions contrary to what had been forecast. Instead of E-SE winds, we encountered light E-NE winds. After motor sailing and creeping slowly north through the day against a slowly rising breeze, we gave up and turned into St. Simons Sound, making for the Frederica River where we anchored. We were able to connect with friends at Brunswick Landing Marina, get our laundry done, and top up our fresh stores and other provisions. The weather forecasts were not promising for sailing offshore, and after a week at anchor in The Frederica River we decided to press north, putting miles under the keel in the Intracoastal Waterway.

Some 17 miles north of St. Simons, the intracoastal waterway passes through the aptly-named Little Mud River near Darien, GA. The Little Mud is notoriously shallow, and at low tide there isn’t enough water for JO BETH to get through, so we had to time our transit on the high tide. As high tide was in the early afternoon this made for a fairly short day underway, and we anchored in the Duplin River at Sapelo Island for the night in the late afternoon, only making some 20 or so miles for the day. The next morning we were underway at dawn, and heading for Walburg Creek at St. Catherines Island. The weather forecast for the late afternoon and overnight was quite dire, with severe thunderstorms and very strong southerly winds predicted. We arrived at Walburg Creek just as the skies began to darken and rain began to fall. The forecast winds and thunderstorms never materialized, but the rain pounded down for some seven hours without slowing.

The next morning, Friday, we got underway early beneath a leaden sky as the predicted southerly wind filled in. The skies cleared throughout the day, and by late afternoon we were anchored in Turner Creek just south of Savannah in brilliant sunshine and blue skies. More severe weather was forecast for the weekend and we booked a slip at Thunderbolt Marina for Saturday and Sunday. Our friend Chris Donnelly operates a small marina and boatyard on Turner Creek and had graciously received mail for us at his facility a few days prior to our arrival. We took the dinghy in to retrieve the mail and spent some time visiting and catching up. The new boaters’ showers were beautiful and roomy. Too bad he doesn’t offer slips at his marina for transient boats; the facilities are just for boats on which they’re working.

*Turner Creek anchorage, south of Savannah, GA…*

Turner Creek is a busy and narrow waterway bordering Wilmington and Talahi Islands southeast of Savannah, and is ringed with private docks and several small marinas. The anchorage area of the creek is close to the very popular and busy boat ramp on Johnny Mercer Boulevard. The small boat traffic and subsequent wakes were non-stop, from before dawn until well after midnight, as small fishing boats passed us, stereos blasting what we can only describe as ‘country hip-hop.’ Early Saturday afternoon, we weighed anchor and motored the short distance to Thunderbolt Marina and secured ourselves and JO BETH for a potentially bumpy ride.

This time, severe thunderstorms and strong winds did move in as predicted. Fortunately, the winds were from the west, and the mainland and marina buildings sheltered us for the most part. We did laundry and showered, also topping up our fresh provisions once again. We also visited with our good friends Paul and Greg, both of whom played significant roles in JO BETH’s refit a few years back, and we hit a couple of our favorite restaurants for seafood and pizza. Lisa was able to have tea on board with her friend Kate Monday morning for a much anticipated catch-up visit.

The skies had cleared by Monday, and in the late morning after Kate’s departure we took on diesel fuel and topped up our fresh water tanks. The west winds were still blowing but with a bit less of a punch, and around noon, we slipped our dock lines and began moving north in the waterway towards Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. Of course, it was dead low tide and we were about to transit more shallow stretches of the waterway as we crossed from Georgia into South Carolina. The west wind remained brisk, at around 18 knots, (roughly 22 mph), and was to take us by surprise later in the day. The waterway here is beautiful, filled with wildlife and scenic vistas. We were soon passing Daufuskie Island and as we entered the Cooper River along Daufuskie’s northwestern side, the winds began to blast.

The wind speed rapidly built from the low 20 knot range into the middle 30’s, and pummeled us with gusts approaching 40 knots. Once or twice, gusts exceeding 40 knots heeled us sharply – that’s 46 mph and stronger! Fortunately, we had no sail up; if we had, things could have rapidly gotten out of control. We rocketed down the Cooper River and into Calibogue Sound, making for our anchorage in Skull Creek, where we hoped heavily forested Pinckney Island would give us some protection from the relentless west wind.

Once we entered the waters of Calibogue Sound, the winds eased back into the high teens and low 20’s. As we entered Skull Creek and neared our planned anchorage, the winds relaxed even more, and we began to look forward to getting stopped and enjoying a calm evening – but our calm night at anchor was not to be.

As we approached the anchorage, the winds once again increased back into the 30 knot range. The gusts howled and shook the rigging, as we struggled to get JO BETH oriented bow to wind to get the anchor down and set. As soon as we would get ready to drop the anchor, a gust of wind would hit and send us careening off in one direction or another. Lisa and I almost had to shout to be heard over the wind noise. Less than a mile away was Skull Creek Marina, and from our position, we could see the long and straight fuel dock was empty. We quickly decided to make for the inside of the fuel dock and get tied alongside. It was after five in the afternoon and I knew no one was likely in the office. We would take the ‘ask for forgiveness instead of permission’ approach to taking space there. As Lisa spun us around and powered ahead for the dock, I tried calling the office. To my surprise, Ben, the dockmaster, answered. “C’mon in,” he said, adding, “I’ll be down to catch lines.”

As we approached the dock, it was a messy scene. Steep, wind driven waves in the creek had built and were curling over and breaking on the dock like surf on a beach. The wind drove us away from the dock, even as Lisa aimed JO BETH’s bow directly for it. I got one of our long amidships lines, called ‘spring lines’ to Ben and he quickly secured it to a cleat. Lisa powered us ahead while turning to port at the same time, in an effort to push JO BETH closer to the dock. The lines and cleats groaned under the strain, but once we were able to get bow and stern lines passed across to Ben, we gained much more control. We quickly added a shortened breast line to the amidships cleat and were secured. Ben then offered to move us into a slip if we would prefer. We politely declined, given how difficult docking along a long and unoccupied stretch of dock had been. Lisa and I shuddered at the thought of trying to maneuver JO BETH in those conditions while in close proximity to other yachts. We thanked Ben profusely as he left us to go home.

Soon after, Lisa had noticed another sailboat approaching the outside of the fuel dock, preparing to dock. Ben had told us things worked out well for us to be on the inside of the dock, as a ninety-foot motoryacht was due to arrive later that evening and her crew had been instructed to tie on the outside of the fuel dock. Lisa yelled to the crew of the approaching sailboat that they couldn’t dock there. As they pulled away, I shouted to them to try the dock office for Ben. They turned and headed down Skull Creek. We saw them the next morning and they thanked us for our passing of information. Fortunately, they were able to get a slip at the opposite end of the marina. A half hour after they turned out, the motoryacht arrived. It took her crew and me nearly 45 minutes to get her secured! Lucky for us, she proved a fantastic windbreak for JO BETH!

Later in the evening, the winds had dropped back into the low twenties once again. The winds blew strong well into the next day and we wound up spending two nights at Skull Creek Marina. While at Hilton Head, we reconnected with friends Keith and Julie (thanks y’all for the margaritas), and once again topped up our fresh provisions.

After two days at Skull Creek Marina, we finally had a good forecast to put to sea and head north, at least as far as Wrightsville Beach, NC. At 2pm on a cloudy Thursday afternoon, we untied our lines and powered away from the dock at and headed under motor power into Port Royal Sound. By sunset we were out of the Sound and into the Atlantic Ocean, and set the mainsail and jib, or headsail. We pointed our bow to the northeast and began a spirited sail in 15 knots or so of southwesterly wind towards The Cape Fear River entrance at Southport, North Carolina, some 200 miles distant. We enjoyed a light dinner as the sun set over South Carolina, and watched as the skies cleared and the full moon rose, a bright orange orb on the eastern horizon, illuminating the night.

*Bashing through head seas, bound for Wrightsville, Beach, NC…*

Lisa and I began our night watch routine, with her taking the 9pm to 1am watch, and me the 1am to 5am shift. As she came on watch at 5am, we were approaching Charleston, South Carolina. The winds had dropped and we were making less than three knots of speed over the ground. We furled in the headsail and started the motor, and I retreated to the forward cabin for some rest.

We’re often asked how we pass the time when on watch. Lisa often reads and listens to music; I usually listen to podcasts I download before we depart, such as Things You Should Know, This American Life, The Moth Radio Hour, Ten-Percent Happier, Milk Street Radio, Car Talk, and the like. We both listen to music, though our musical tastes vary somewhat; Lisa will listen to a lot of classic rock and southern rock; I listen to a lot of symphonic metal rock and foreign music, and we both enjoy light jazz and classical. We snack and if it’s chilly, have some hot chocolate or tea. During our watches, both of us do a complete three-sixty scan of the horizon every twenty minutes or so, looking for lights of other vessels. Sometimes, we take short naps between our horizon scans. We also make notes at the top of the hour in the log, noting our course and speed, position in latitude and longitude, weather conditions, etc. An unbreakable rule for us is that when we are at sea, neither of us will leave the cockpit without wearing our safety harnesses and being clipped into safety lines, called ‘jacklines,’ which run the length of the deck on each side, and without the other person being in the cockpit. This is especially so at night. Our harnesses are automatic deploying lifejackets, and are fitted with lights and emergency position indicating beacons. They are designed to be used to hoist us back on board, something we hope never, ever, has to happen.

*On watch, somewhere off of the Carolinas…*

By late afternoon, we were passing Georgetown, South Carolina, and the winds were now down to a feeble four knots from the southeast. The sea grew calm, and we motored through the night, a mere 20 miles offshore, the loom of lights from Myrtle Beach glowing on the horizon.

When my watch started at one the following morning, we were approaching the outer marks for the Cape Fear River and the town of Southport, North Carolina. JO BETH’s diesel motor pushed her through the mirror calm sea with ease and at 4:30am, we were at the entrance channel for the Cape Fear River. The Cape Fear River is the water highway for cargo and military ships bound for the inland port of Wilmington, North Carolina. This Saturday morning was a busy one. A dredge ship was working on the outer edges of the channel, and our RADAR and AIS systems indicated two ships in front of us were entering the harbor, and two ships and a harbor pilot boat were outbound in the river, soon to be in the channel with us. I made the decision to let Lisa sleep a bit longer and adjusted our course to keep us just outside of the southwestern side of the channel and out of everyone’s way. I made a Security Call on the VHF radio so the ships were aware of us, and stated our intentions in keeping clear of the channel. The water outside of the channel averages 30 feet deep; inside the channel, it is more than 50. JO BETH only needs five feet of water depth to float; the cargo ships need 40 feet or more.

After the last ship had passed and I made sure no others were coming our way, I reentered the channel. Once into the river, just past dawn, I woke Lisa. We dropped and secured the mainsail, which we had left raised to dampen the rolling in the ocean swell, and proceeded to motor to our anchorage in Banks Channel, at Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina. By eleven in the morning, we were anchored and once again, facing a week of squally weather and those unrelenting north winds. The bright side was, we met up with our friends Reuel and Pam who live in Wilmington, and enjoyed time at their home doing laundry, catching up with mail, and – most importantly - visiting.

After a week in Wrightsville Beach, we had a short window of opportunity to get a bit further north. At dawn on Saturday morning, we weighed anchor and powered out of Banks Channel, raising the mainsail as we went through the horribly rough Masonboro Inlet and into the Atlantic. We set a course E-NE, with the goal of making Cape Lookout Bight, a part of Cape Lookout National Seashore, near Beaufort, NC. Once clear of the inlet, the seas calmed down, but were still larger than had been forecast. The winds were pretty much as forecast, for the SW and light, at around six knots or so. The official forecast called for the winds to build gradually through the day and by late afternoon as we would be arriving at the bight, to be near 20 knots. It didn’t go quite that way, as the winds stayed light until midafternoon, when they quickly strengthened to 18 knots. We entered the bight in the last hour of daylight and found a place to anchor on the SW side of the basin. There were a half dozen boats there, including the small United States Coast Guard Cutter POMPANO, which was secured to a mooring the Coast Guard maintains inside the basin.

Sunday morning dawned gray and dreary and we spent the day in generally blustery conditions. Rain showers came and went, and Monday morning dawned with a clear sky. We left Cape Lookout Bight around 9am and made for the Beaufort Channel Entrance, with the tiny town of Oriental, NC our planned destination. We would then move from Oriental, NC to Washington, NC on Tuesday.

JO BETH’s builder, Pacific Seacraft is located in Washington. Over the past year, possibly longer, we’ve had a deck leak. In the forward cabin, which is basically our ‘bedroom,’ two of the lockers where Lisa stores her clothes were consistently damp or wet. We had been experiencing a lot of condensation issues throughout the boat, particularly in the cooler months of the year, and chalked up the problem to that. In the fall of last year, we installed insulation in all of the clothes lockers, basically eliminating the condensation issues. We then noticed that after a rough sail, especially when the wind was coming from the starboard, or right-hand side of the boat and was forward of the amidships point, Lisa’s clothes lockers were wet. The leak only happens when we’ve sailed ‘hard on the wind on starboard tack,’ in nautical parlance, a way of sailing into the wind at an angle. It hasn’t happened when in rain, or when washing the boat. We’ve not been able to locate the leak and resolve it. Our hope is, some of the folks who build and repair the boats regularly will be able to give us some guidance. If nothing else, another set or two of eyes on the problem can’t hurt. Lisa’s tired of getting dressed from Ziplock bags!

***MISS KIRK,*** *a Carolina Commercial Trawler, overtakes us in Adams Creek, south of Oriental…*

We motored through Beaufort, through narrow Core Creek and into Adams Creek. Adams Creek is also a fairly narrow stretch of water, but generally consistent in depth and easy to navigate. However, every time we transit Adams Creek, we encounter one or more of the big Carolina shrimp trawlers. This time was no different, and the trawler MISS KIRK overtook us as we approached the entrance to the Neuse River.

We carried on to across the Neuse to Oriental, and found the tiny anchorage at capacity. The free docks were also full, with one of the free docks occupied by a large sailing catamaran. This took us by surprise, as the width of these boats – the ‘beam’ – is significant. Where the catamaran was secured on the free dock, it’s starboard hull was blocking at least two and perhaps three slips at the adjacent private marina. Lisa and I wondered if the marina dockmaster had complained to the catamarans captain or her owners.

We turned out of the harbor and back into the Nuese River, making for the South River, a few miles southeast of Oriental. Once inside the South River entrance, we had the place to ourselves, more or less. The anchorage is huge, and the nearest other boat to us was perhaps a mile away. We quickly realized this would be a better spot for us than Oriental’s tiny harbor. It was larger, quieter, much less crowded, and best of all, darker. We spent a very restful night there.

*The beautiful and peaceful South River anchorage…*

The next morning, we weighed anchor and powered through Goose Creek Cut and into the Pamlico River. By late afternoon, we were secured once again at the Washington Town Docks, some 30 miles west of Pamlico Sound. We spent nearly two months here in the fall of 2021, quite unintentionally. On that trip, I slipped on the wet dock of the boat, seriously injuring my left shoulder. This time, I’m being much more careful, though weather will likely keep us here for several days. That’s fine though. We like Washington.

Carolina Beach, North Carolina to Fernandina Beach, Florida

March 13, 2023

In keeping with the style of the last blog post, I shall let the photography tell the story. As before, this post will have (somewhat) fewer words and more pictures, with captions enough to tell the tale.

JO BETH is hauled from the water at Tiger Point Boat Works in Fernandina Beach, Florida where we are working on numerous maintenance and repair projects. It’s time to renew the marine anti-fouling bottom paint, uninstall no longer used equipment to free-up much needed storage space, make some minor and not so minor repairs, and perform a lot of preventative maintenance.

Lisa and I had hoped to cross the Atlantic Ocean this season, from the US to England. Unfortunately, we’ve had to change our plans because of insurance requirements. It is notoriously difficult for small yachts to be fully insured to cross an ocean. We were never under the illusion JO BETH would be fully covered for the crossing, but we certainly weren’t expecting to be denied liability insurance coverage. However, we were. In fact, the companies we approached refused to even provide us a quote. The primary reason given to us was that boat was ‘too old,’ (underwriters only want to insured boats less than 30 years of age; JO BETH is pushing 40), and that Lisa’s and my offshore sailing experience was ‘insufficient.’ In reading between the lines, it seems that underwriters interpreted all of our ocean sailing experience to be ‘coastal’ as we had not sailed to another country! Surprisingly, Lisa’s time sailing on tall ships – during which she logged some 10,000 miles at sea – was completely irrelevant – as was the fact JO BETH was just recently fully refit.

You may be wondering, why does this matter? Most marinas in the developed world require all yachts leasing dock space to have a liability insurance policy in place. The same applies to boat repair facilities. Some countries are now requiring a liability policy to anchor in their harbors. We could not sail to England, or to Europe, without being assured of a safe and sheltered spot for the winter months. Our current insurance company only insures yachts in the US and Canada.

So, we’re sailing back to northern waters, this time to Nova Scotia and Cape Breton Island, Canada. We can do this with the blessing of full and complete coverage through our current insurer. This was a big surprise, as they declined to issue a policy rider for us to sail to either Bermuda or The Bahamas, two much closer destinations than Canada, because JO BETH is ‘too old.’

We’re also getting closer to launching our YouTube Channel, (about time!), and with that, the blog posts will become a little less frequent and will continue to be photography dense, with less narrative. Fingers crossed!

*We departed Carolina Beach, NC on a sunny but chilly New Year’s Day, accompianied out of the Cape Fear River by a few large ships…*

*Lisa noting the logbook as we exit the Cape Fear River into the Atlantic Ocean, bound for Charleston, SC…*

*A fast approaching cold front collapsed the offshore easterly winds, and we diverted into Winyah Bay, SC to seek shelter and continue on to Charleston via the Intracoastal Waterway…*

*We continued south in the Intracoastal and spent a lovely and quiet evening anchored in the South Santee River, halfway between Georgetown, SC and Charleston, SC…*

The next morning, we continued towards Charleston and anchored in Dewees Creek just north of Isle of Palms as a thick, wet fog settled around us; the following day, we took a slip in Isle of Palms Marina to wait out the passing cold front as Dewees Creek was not well sheltered from the weather…

*We departed Charleston in the company of two other yachts;* ***LONGTAIL****, from Virginia, and* ***SALACIA STAR****, from Australia, all of us bound for various points south; around midnight that evening, we sailed through the ship anchorage off of Savannah, GA…*

At 10 PM or so the following night, we sailed into the St. Marys Entrance and by midnight were anchored at one of our favorite places, Cumberland Island, GA where we remained for two nights before heading to the Fernandina City Marina in Fernandina Beach, FL to take on fuel, water, and provisions; ***LONGTAIL*** *continued on to St. Augustine, FL, while* ***SALACIA STAR*** *stopped in Savannah, GA…*

***JO BETH*** *secured at the ICW Free Dock on Sisters Creek, just east of Jacksonville, FL; the currents here can be tricky and downright dangerous for the unprepared…*

We spent the next night on a mooring in St. Augustine, FL, in some quite bad weather and on the next morning, we heading out under gray and rainy skies to the luxurious Hammock Beach Marina in Palm Coast, FL for a few weeks of being still and somewhat warm; still, there were a few foggy and chilly evenings…

*Our stay at Hammock Beach wasn’t all relaxation; we spent a lot of time tracking down issues, such as this pesky leak in* ***JO BETH’s*** *drinking water system…*

***JO BETH*** *is now hauled out of the water at Tiger Point Boat Works, Fernandina Beach, FL, while we ready her and ourselves for our 1,600 naurical mile voyage to the Canadian Maritimes…*

Brooklin, Maine to Carolina Beach, North Carolina

December 26, 2022

Brooklin, Maine to Carolina Beach, North Carolina

Happy Holidays to all of you!

This post is going to be a bit different. Instead of telling the final phase of our summer’s cruise to New England, I thought I’d let the photography tell the story. This post will have less words and more pictures, with captions enough to tell the tale.

We’re now stopped in Carolina Beach, North Carolina. JO BETH is secured in a slip at harbor Point Yacht Club. Lisa and I have spent the Christmas holiday with friends in Wilmington, in their warm and cozy home, with much of that time lounging around the roaring fireplace. JO BETH is not equipped for persistent cold weather sailing, something we intend to change during our upcoming haul out and yard period. Still, it’s been a delightful break from the chilly and often wet cabin, due to condensation. We hope to continue our journey south later this week.

For now, we’ll let the pictures tell our story – and please let us know what you think of this photography oriented format - or do you prefer a narrative accompanied by fewer photographs?

Happy New year everybody!

*JO BETH, anchored at ‘Hell’s Half-Acre,’ a much nicer place than the name implies, in a group of islands known as Merchants Row…*

*Some of Hell’s Half Acre resembled the Carribbean…*

*We like to say, “cruising isn’t all Pina Coladas and sunsets…” There’s always maintenance to be done; here, Lisa’s scraping marine growth from the bottom of ‘SCOOTS,’ our dinghy…*

With bad weather coming in, we left 'Hell’s Half Acre and sailed to McGlathery Island, for better shelter from the forecasted gale force winds…we were anchored here for three days waiting for the weather to pass…

*After the gales blew out, we were low on diesel fuel and groceries; we decided to sail return to Belfast, ME to reprovision and refuel. We love Belfast and spent several days there - once again…*

*Approaching Belfast Harbor at sunset…I was on the bow keeping a watch for lobster pots…*

*A questionable electrical outlet installation, spotted at the Belfast Town Boat Ramp…*

*one of our favorite things about Belfast was the incredible Farmer’s Market - one of the best we’ve ever found…complete with live classical music…*

*Fresh Maine mussels and baguettes for dinner aboard JO BETH, from the Belfast Farmer’s Market*

We sailed from Belfast to Tenant’s Harbor, our first stop when we arrived in Maine, to visit with friends there as we began our passages south; of course, we had typical Maine weather for the trip…

Once again, weather forced a change in our plans as we left tenant’s Harbor, and we made an unplanned stop in Boothbay Harbor, where we waited for over a week for weather to cross the Gulf of Maine to Massachusetts

*While in Boothbay Harbor, we staumbled across the relaunching of the 110’ Schooner ERNESTINA MORRISEY, built in 1894; she is now a training ship based in New Bedord, MA*

*Unfortunately, due to a problem with the shipyard’s slipway system, the launch was cancelled while we were there; the christening bottle will be used another day…*

*Boothbay Harbor is filled with beautiful homes, but overall, was a bit too touristy for our tatstes…*

*The small maritime museum in Boothbay Harbor had this beuatiful exhbiti of tradtional shipbuilding tools…*

*After a rough overnight crossing of the Gulf of Maine, we landed in gorgeous Marblehead, Massachussets…*

*Marblehead Light Tower; we spent a week here, doing laundry, provisioning, and spending time with friends that live in the area…*

After leaving Marblehead, we passed through the Cape Cod Canal and sailed to Martha’s Vineyard with friends we had met in Boothbay Harbor; we were in tiny Oak Bluffs Harbor for a week as yet more bad weather came and went…

*There are many beautiful and old homes on Martha’s Vineyard…*

When the weather finally eased up, we sailed for Jamestown Rhode Island, racing ahead of yet another weather system, and after spending four nights there in a near gale, we sailed for Fishers Island, New York and back into Long Island Sound once again…

*Beautiful North Cove Harbor, Old Saybrook, Connecticut, another favorite stop for us…*

*New England starts letting you know that you’ve worn out your welcome…*

*Leaving Old Saybrook, Connecticut and sailing for Northport, New York, on Long Island, we picked up a hitchiker along the way…*

We spent a week in Northport Harbor, but I didn’t shoot any pictures or video while there, as it was a week of gales associated with the remnants of Hurricane Nicole passing by; we made a short daysail to Port Washington, and then passed through New York Harbor, continuing on to Deltaville, VA…

*During our passage through New York Harbor, we sailed past the beautiful QUEEN MARY 2, the last of the ‘real’ ocean liners…*

*Deltaville, VA, is a tiny town situated on the wester shore of the central Chesapeake Bay - there are more boats than humans there - and we were there to have some sail repair and rigging work done…*

*At Latell Sails in Deltaville, we had a new mainsail cover system made, shown here, as well as a new staysail, shown below, for a new furling system…*

*If you’re a sailboat rigger, it’s good to be skinny…Deltaville Rigging Company installing the new satysail furler…*

We also spent several days in Yorktown, VA with a longtime friend for Thanksgiving…the trip to Carolina Beach was made exclusively in the Intracoastal Waterway and I didn’t take any photos or videos; most days the weather was cold, and on enough, it was cold and rainy…more to come soon…

*Dinghy docks in New England get crowded fast - this is Rockland Harbor*

Rockland to Brooklin, Maine, Including the Wooden Boat School

October 23, 2022

Rockland was a busy stop, with mail to collect, laundry to do, groceries to buy, and prescriptions to refill. Plus, we were expecting some inclement weather during our time there. Our friend Tom, who organized the Pacific Seacraft GAM the prior weekend, offered his mooring in Rockland Harbor for us to use. He would be away cruising some of the more remote islands of the Central Maine Coast until the following weekend, so we had some time to get everything done and relax a bit.

We arrived in Rockland late on a Sunday afternoon, and stayed aboard JO BETH until Monday morning. The first order of business was to get laundry done. The laundromat was about a half mile walk from the harbormaster’s office and the town dock where we could land in SCOOTS, our dinghy. I enjoy walking, so this usually isn’t an issue, but New England in general and Maine in particular, had reintroduced an old challenge to us – hills. It was good exercise, especially carrying the 45 pound laundry duffle!

Once laundry was washed, folded and put away, we set out for a bit of sightseeing around the town. We had hoped to find lunch somewhere, but a new ‘Maine’ reality was impressed upon us – most every restaurant and many retail businesses in Rockland – and as we later discovered, across many towns in Maine – were closed on Mondays. We did find one sandwich shop which was open and were able to enjoy a late lunch. Rockland also struck us as being something of an industrial town.

The next day, we took SCOOTS in early. Our outboard motor is electric and the motor battery can be removed from the motor to recharge. The battery charge level was quite depleted, so we knew the recharge time would be significant. The harbormaster allowed us to make use of their office’s electrical outlets so we could recharge the battery as we took care of our errands and chores. SCOOTS is fitted with paddles, but rowing inflatables is a difficult thing in the best of conditions, and nearly impossible to do if there is any wind or current opposing you. Keeping the outboard battery charged is sometimes a hassle; still, it’s much better than having to carry and store gasoline for a traditional outboard motor.

We also learned the delivery timetables for packages with commercial shippers can vary tremendously in Maine. We asked the harbormaster as to when UPS or FedEx typically arrived to drop off parcels for next day delivery and she laughed. “If it’s overnight delivery, you should pretty much plan for two days. It doesn’t matter what you paid for; it’s Maine.” Ah well. Our packages from Amazon and other places, including some spare parts for the engine, would arrive eventually – and hopefully before we left. We walked to the local Walgreens and filled our prescriptions, then headed towards the Wyeth Art Museum. We actually wound up spending most of our time there in the gift shop as the museum admission was quite a bit steeper than we anticipated. Still, it was quite lovely. I’m a big fan of Andrew Wyeth’s work.

We also went to Hamilton Marine, a large marine equipment store based in Maine. We were able to purchase more gear for JO BETH, including new shackles to replace old ones on the running backstays, a storage rack for our binoculars, and other hardware. It was fun to go there as I had been ordering sailing gear from Hamilton Marine’s website for years. Rockland also hosts a fantastic farmer’s market, selling everything from locally grown produce and meats, to local cheeses, breads, and pastries.

The bad weather came and went, and our week in Rockland was coming to its end. We had favorable winds to sail further into Penobscot Bay and had heard good things about the little town of Belfast, 30 miles or so to the north, so off we went. We slipped off of Tom’s mooring, and after topping up JO BETH’s fuel and water tanks at Landings Marina, were underway with SCOOTS in tow. We powered out of Rockland Harbor, past the little lighthouse situated on the harbor breakwater, and turned north into the bay. We had a light NE breeze and once clear of the harbor breakwater, we set sail and shut off the engine.

As was typical, there were dozens upon dozens of boats out sailing. And of course, we were dodging lobster pots and their attending lobster boats. We settled in and watched the beautiful Maine countryside slip by, with the islands of Ilseboro and Seven Hundred Acre to starboard and the mainland to port. Soon, we passed the entrance to quaint and beautiful Camden harbor, also on the port side, where the annual Classic Yacht Regatta was underway.

*A beautiful day for a sail - going from Rockland to Belfast*

By noon, JO BETH was blasting towards Belfast in a stiff 24 knot breeze, sailing on a close reach and slicing through the water. It was exhilarating; the sun was warm, the breeze refreshing, and JO BETH galloped along, sometimes reaching 7.5 knots of speed over the ground. In short order, we were turning into the wide mouth of Belfast Bay and making for the harbor channel.

Belfast is a fantastic little town and was one of our favorite stops this season. As we entered the harbor and the mooring field, we contacted the harbormaster’s office via VHF radio for a mooring assignment. After giving us the mooring number and directions to its location in the harbor, I asked for the location of the town dinghy landing so we could check in and pay the mooring fees. The harbormaster quickly told us to check in the next morning. We took her instructions to heart and were soon relaxing in the cockpit with post-sail beverages.

Sunday dawned bright and sunny, and Lisa and I took SCOOTS in to town. Lisa headed for church, while I headed for breakfast and a coffee shop with WiFi access. I enjoyed a fantastic plate of eggs benedict and home fries at Traci’s Diner. Belfast isn’t really on the tourist track for Maine, though it does receive its share of them. Traci’s is mostly a locals place, and I found myself at the bar-counter in conversation with several of them.

“You sailed all the way from Florida to here? To Belfast?” one gentleman said, as he peered at me over his wire rim glasses when I told him where I was from.

“We did!” I answered.

“Wow,” he said, “that must be some trip. You sailed in the ocean?”

“Yes,” I said, “the intracoastal waterway ends at the Chesapeake Bay. We sailed in the Atlantic, and also Long island Sound, Buzzards Bay, and the Gulf of Maine.”

His eyes lit up at the mention of Long Island Sound.

“Did you go to Port Washington on Long Island?”, he asked. “When you sailed in Long Island Sound? Port Washington? I grew up there. That’s my hometown!”

*Belfast was one of our favorite harbors in Maine*

The conversations went on, with an elderly couple apparently overhearing my chat at the counter and asking me to join them at their table to tell them about JO BETH and our trip. I never got their names, but they told me how they used to cruise all around New England in their younger days on a small sailboat. Belfast was like that - friendly, welcoming and hospitable. I became a breakfast regular at Traci’s. The blueberry pancakes there looked like blueberry pies! Places like Belfast can be what sailors call a ‘Velcro harbor,’ or simply ‘sticky.’ They can be difficult to leave.

Traci’s was a fun spot, but I needed to get somewhere with WiFi so I could take care of boat business, get email answered, and the like. Just down the hill from Traci’s, and also on Main Street, was Downshift Coffee, situated inside a storefront called Coffee and Bikes. It’s a coffee shop inside a bicycle shop, or a bicycle shop with a coffee shop – I’m not sure which. Regardless, the coffee was excellent, even though I had drank more than my share at Traci’s, and the WiFi fast. Soon, Lisa joined me and we walked the town a bit more as we made our way back to the dinghy dock.

When we had secured SCOOTS at the dinghy dock earlier that morning, we noticed signs saying that all dinghies at the dock had to have a permit and be registered with the harbormaster’s office. I had stopped in on my way to breakfast and the office was still closed, so Lisa and I stopped there on our way back to JO BETH. After we introduced ourselves, the harbormaster provided us with the shower access codes and the WiFi code (unfortunately, the WIFI didn’t reach our mooring), and asked us how long we were staying. We told her initially it would be three days or so, but we wound up staying a week. When we offered to pay for the mooring charges, $40.00 per night, she waved us off. “Just pay when you leave,” she said, adding, “it’s simpler that way.” We asked her about the dinghy permit signs on the docks. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “That’s so people don’t leave junk boats sitting there. We know you’re a transient boat, since your dinghy’s registered in another state. That’s what the docks are there for.”

I should point out that large marinas are relatively scarce in New England, compared to other areas of the country. They do exist, but are filled mostly with large motor and trawler style yachts. The vast majority of sailboats, like JO BETH, are kept on moorings during the short boating season. The dinghy docks get crowded fast.

*We saw this in several Maine harbors; floating docks moored with boats tied alongside; this is Belfast Harbor*

It was time to get laundry done again, and re-provision some of our food stores. Fortunately, there is a laundromat and a grocery store co-op right next to one another, just a short walk, uphill of course, from the dinghy landing. The co-op is like a small version of a Whole Foods store though it lacked some variety in the selection of meats and wines. Still, it was incredibly convenient.

It was also located across the street from the Belfast Public Library. The library is beautiful and laid out with secluded reading areas and a special computer work area. Formally called the ‘Belfast Free Library,’ it was constructed in 1887 and has undergone numerous expansions and renovations since. Best of all, the library provided amazingly fast WiFi service! We spent several hours there over a couple of days; Lisa catching up on work, and me catching up on blog posts and photo edits. We walked in Belfast a lot, checking out all of the bookshops, art galleries, and a few restaurants. We also went to Young’s Lobster Pound across the harbor for a delicious lobster dinner.

After five or so days in Belfast, the place was starting to feel a bit sticky. Upon settling our bill with the harbormaster, we slipped the mooring line and set sail out of the harbor for the small town of Castine, across Penobscot Bay on the eastern side of Islesboro island. This meant rounding the top of Islesboro Island, then sailing south to the harbor entrance. Also, the Annual Classic Yacht Regatta, which we passed while it was being held in Camden on our way to Belfast, was just finishing in Castine. Once again, JO BETH was surrounded by gorgeous, classic, wooden yachts against the background of a brilliant blue sky and sparkling blue water. As it turns out, we would be sailing slightly behind the regatta for a couple of more weeks.

The sail to Castine and into the harbor was lovely. After rounding the headland of Dice Head and noting Dice Head Light, we were in the harbor proper and secured on a mooring off of the Castine Yacht Club. The yacht club operates a very efficient launch service and offers showers to boaters using their moorings. The launch service meant we didn’t have to use SCOOTS, which was a good thing as the currents in Castine Harbor are quite strong. Also, the outboard battery was once again nearly depleted from our time in Belfast. The power demands when charging the motor battery, especially if it is discharged more than 50%, put quite a load JO BETH’s twelve volt system. The power pull of the battery recharging could deplete our battery banks in fairly short order. For this reason, we always try to recharge when we can plug into shoreside power. It’s faster as well. The dockmaster at Castine Yacht Club graciously allowed us to use their clubhouse outlets for charging. We also snuck in our electric toothbrush!

Castine is a tiny town, with a year-round population of around 800 people, according to the 2020 census. It is one of the oldest communities in the US, having been continuously occupied since the early 1600’s with settlements of French, Danish, and English colonists. It is also home to Maine Maritime Academy, a four year university specializing in degree programs for those seeking to work in the maritime industry. Future merchant ship’s captains, engineers, and deckhands are trained here, as well as those looking for careers in the other sectors of the industry; tugboats, barges, ferries, cruise ships, water taxis and so on. The student population of Maine Maritime is approximately 1,000.

Castine is a good walking town, and loaded with hills. We found an excellent independent bookseller there, Compass Rose Books, with a coffee shop, of course; there are a few art galleries and a couple of restaurants. Castine is also home to a couople of famous Bed and Breakfast Inns, the Pentagoet and The Captain Nickels Inn.

*The Castine Historical Society Museum and Offices; the building is the original schoolhouse and served in that capacity until the 1970’s*

Otherwise, there’s not much in Castine but quaint charm and downeast beauty. We were able to arrange a golf cart tour of the town with a local city council member, which was quite fun. We asked him how they came about doing the tours.

“Well,” he began, “these two ladies in the historical society had a get together one evening and were discussing ways to raise money for the society. At the end of the night, they announced they had spent $6,000.00 for this golf cart, with their own money, and asked who would like to help them pay for it. They thought it could be good for tours of the town. All they needed were volunteers to drive the cart and give the tours. So, there’s me and a couple of other people.” And with that he shrugged.

We stayed in Castine Harbor for three nights and on a dreary Sunday morning, slipped the mooring pennant and pointed JO BETH’s bow south, edging past Holbrook Island, and then turned east-southeast towards the western end of Eggemoggin Reach. More squally weather was forecast to move in and this time, the coming weather seemed to have some teeth. We wanted some solid protection from the forecasted winds and rain. Friends we had met in Maine all suggested we make for tiny Buck’s Harbor, and so we did.

The trip to Buck’s Harbor was made mostly under motor. Winds were very light, and JO BETH chugged along with her diesel motor purring contentedly. The harbor is a small, semi-circular basin surrounded by rolling hills, with a small rocky island in the middle. It is extremely well sheltered from wind in any direction. We made a reservation for a mooring with Buck’s Harbor Marina, and soon found our assigned spot. As we were picking up the pennant, a couple in their dinghy passed by us and waved.

“Any wind out there?”, the lady called out.

“None, or very little,” I replied. They waved and went on their way.

As Lisa and I were doing our post run securing of the boat, the same couple came alongside JO BETH once again. They were on a larger yacht near the harbor entrance and lived in Maine. They were getting ready to return to their home port, Southwest Harbor, but wanted to talk with us about the way our mainsail reefing system worked. A sail is reefed when it is partially pulled down from its fully hoisted position. This is done to reduce sail area when winds are too strong for full sail, and to help the boat be better controlled and to stay balanced.

Apparently, a local boatyard had done some repair work on their mainsail and had not re-run the reefing lines properly, so the mainsail could not be sufficiently reduced in size when needed. We showed them how our system worked, and soon enough they were underway with a fix in mind. Apparently, they were able to find some sort of solution as they were gone early the next morning.

The communities of Buck’s Harbor and Bucks are, as so many towns in Maine are, tiny. The year round population of the adjoined communities is just over 1,100 persons. There is a small General Store for basic groceries and such. The big surprise, however, is the sole restaurant in the community. Called ‘Buck’s,’ it is absolutely incredible. While we were there, the executive chef at the restaurant was nominated for a James Beard Award – an impressive achievement!

We enjoyed our time and Buck’s Harbor as it was quiet. One afternoon, we watched as kids dove from the docks into the water and swam.

“That’s got to be cold,” we thought. When I was in the marina a couple of hours later, I asked the dockmaster what the water temperature was. “Oh,” he began, “it’s really warm – like the middle sixties, I think.”

Another thing we enjoyed at Buck’s Harbor Marina were the outdoor showers. These open air showers are lovely – and no, for you overtly modest types, you’re not out in the open, but in a private enclosure; there’s just no roof over your head. One thing Maine does not have in abundance is air conditioning. Few of the marina facilities we used had adequate ventilation in the showers, and the result was a humid experience from which it was difficult to dry. The outdoor/open air shower eliminates these issues altogether!

The squally weather came and lingered a bit. It soon left, taking the wind with it. We motored away from Buck’s Harbor on a flat and windless Penobscot Bay. Very quickly, we entered the waters of Eggemoggin reach, a relatively narrow 10 mile long channel bridging the Penobscot Bay Western passage with its eastern counterpart. Locally know as ‘The Reach,’ Eggemoggin is also famous for having no, or at least very few lobster pots for most of its length. We were told this is due to the fact the bottom is mostly thick, clay like mud – not ideal habitat for lobsters. Lisa and I were grateful for the break from what we had come to know as ‘pot watch.’

Our destination was The Wooden Boat School near the town of Brooklin. I had taken a few courses at the school way back in the early 1990’s, just as my marine surveying career was getting started. I was looking forward to being back and seeing the school and how it had changed and grown over the years. At the time I was there, the courses offered were mostly in small boat building and repair, with a few professional development and continuing education programs, some of which I had attended. Now, in addition to those same courses, the school offers programs in everything from basic yacht design, to mechanical repair and metals fabrication, to classes in watercolor painting and photography. The school campus is in the shadow of Mt. Desert Island and Acadia National Park, and of course, offers amazing views across Eggemoggin Reach.

Once again, we were arriving in another harbor at the end of the Classic Yacht Regatta, the race at Brooklin, and Wooden Boat School in particular, being the last for the season. With the races concluded, several of the beautiful old yachts glided by JO BETH as they made their way to their homeports, graceful and attractive.

There is an anchorage area just off of the school docks, as well as a small mooring field with a dozen or so school owned moorings. Lisa had expressed some concerns about the amount of money we were spending for mooring rentals. Often, there isn’t a choice; many harbors in New England prohibit anchoring, and anchoring inside of a mooring field is a big no-no. If you want to visit a harbor, you’ll have to take a mooring. Granted, moorings are much cheaper than taking a slip in a marina, but it is a cost nonetheless and it adds up. As there is an established anchorage area with good holding at The Wooden Boat School, Lisa and I had decided to anchor while there. You can imagine my surprise when she pointed to one of the empty moorings and asked what the lettering on it indicated.

“It says ‘WBS Boats to 36 Feet.’”

“Grab it,” she called out.

I did as I was told, and we were soon secured in the mooring field surrounded by a variety of classic and traditional wooden craft.

Once back in the cockpit, I asked, “so you don’t want to anchor?”

She shrugged. “Moorings are easier.”

Once we had JO BETH tidied up, we hopped into SCOOTS and headed to shore. My memory told me the small house at the head of the dock was known as ‘The Boat Shed.’ The lone occupant, the harbormaster, greeted us warmly. We indicated we needed to pay for the mooring, and also noted a sign indicating the mooring charge was $30 for the night; our guidebook stated the rate was $25 per night. He showed us the envelopes and drop-box for cash payments.

“We don’t have the cash with us,” I said. “Can we pay by credit card?”

“Not here,” he answered, “maybe in the office. But they’re gone for the day. How long you staying?”

“Three days or so,” I answered.

He waved his hand. “Eh, don’t worry about it; take care of it tomorrow.”

“We will,” I said. “Is the bookstore open?”

He glanced at his watch. “Until 5.”

“Great, thanks.”

We walked up a gravel road, passing storage sheds and boat hulls of all types, from kayaks and canoes to small sailing yachts, all built of wood using traditional methods. We found the bookstore and went inside. It was quiet; the walls lined with all sorts of nautical books, many of them hard to find elsewhere. There were also T-shirts, hats, jackets, posters, etc., all to do with wooden boats. We walked around a bit, and I bought a cap, couple of shirts and a fleece vest. We headed back to the boat and relaxed a bit before enjoying a delicious dinner of black bean soup over rice.

*The harbor at The Wooden Boat School, overlooking Eggemoggin Reach*

The next morning, I took SCOOTS in early to go for a walk. At the boat shed, there was a different harbormaster and I asked once again about paying for the mooring with a credit card, or finding my way to an ATM for a supply of cash, which we needed anyway. He looked somewhat puzzled, and then told me I could pay by credit card at the bookstore. Alrighty then, off I went. It was early though and the bookstore was closed. I continued on my walk.

After a bit, I turned back and found the bookstore was now open. I went in and told the lady at the cash register I was there to pay for a mooring. Three nights, please.

“OK, three nights is seventy-five dollars”, she said.

I paused for a moment.“You know, that’s what our cruising guide said the rate was, but there’s a sign at the boat shed that says the rate is thirty dollars per night.”

“There is?”, she asked, “thirty dollars now? When did that happen, I wonder?” She thumbed through a small note pad, then set it aside.

“Well,” she began, “no one mentioned any changes in the rate to me. Until they do, it’s twenty-five per night.”

“Fair enough,” I replied.

*The Schooner LADONA, anchored next to us at The Wooden Boat School, Brooklin, Maine*

As I took SCOOTS back to JO BETH, my phone vibrated. Once back aboard, I checked the text message. It was from our friend Kate, a fellow sailor and Pacific Seacraft owner. We had met Kate last year, while we were in Washington, NC. Kate, it turns out, was taking a class at the Wooden Boat School. My phone vibrated one more. It was Kate again, telling me we could borrow her car to run any errands. Nice!

Lisa couldn’t believe it when I told her Kate was here. I made arrangements to come to her class after the lunch break, to say a quick hello and get her car keys so I could make a grocery run. There aren’t any grocery stores in Brooklin, but the closest ‘big’ town, Blue Hill, has two. We also made plans for Kate to come to JO BETH that evening for drinks. Lisa and I took Kate’s car again the next day, back to Blue Hill for a supplemental grocery run, and to have a look at the Maine countryside, which is gorgeous. That evening, I ferried Kate to JO BETH in SCOOTS and we spent an enjoyable couple of hours catching up. Kate was taking the bronze casting class at the school, learning to cast custom designed metal components in bronze. I asked how she knew we were moored there.

“Well,” she began, “one of the guys in my class told me there was a Pacific Seacraft in the mooring field. We all tell each other what kind of boat we have and so on, so that’s how he knew I had my boat. So I asked him the name, and he told me, it’s JO BETH!”

A highlight of the evening was when LADONA, an 82 foot wooden schooner, anchored next to our mooring. She was built as a private yacht in East Boothbay Harbor, Maine in 1922, and named for the Union Navy gunship the owner’s father had served on during the war between the states. In the intervening years, she fell into a long period of disuse and suffered greatly from the lack of maintenance. She’s since been fully restored and refit, and is now available for exclusive private charters along the Maine coast. With the setting sun and clouds as a background, she made quite the sight – and the same again in the morning; we woke to a heavy fog, LADONA looking like a ghost ship to our starboard side.

*The ceremonial launching of the Shinano River Boat and the Wooden Boat School students who built her*

Kate left soon after sunset to return to her camp – many students at Wooden Boat camp during their course week or weeks – and I returned to JO BETH to prepare a dinner of fresh local mussels I bought at a seafood market in Blue Hill earlier in the day. The next afternoon, Friday, was the last day of classes at the school. There would be a lobster bake for the students and school staff that evening, which Lisa and I attended, (we paid, of course!), but the highlight of the day was the ceremonial launching of a traditional Japanese sculling boat, called a Shinano River Boat. The boat was hand-built during that week by a team of students and an instructor. We also fawned over the bronze pieces Kate had cast in her class; it was really quite impressive!

The end of the week marked the end of our time at Wooden Boat as well. After showering in the student facilities once the majority of students had left, we slipped the mooring and laid in a course nearly due south for a group of rocky and wooded islands known as Merchant’s Row; for the next few nights, we’d be anchored in a spot known as ‘Hell’s Half-Acre,’ situated between Bold and Devil Islands. Fortunately, it was much nicer than the name would imply!

Tenants Harbor to Rockland, Maine, Including the 2022 Pacific Seacraft Maine GAM

October 18, 2022

After two nights in Tenant’s Harbor, Maine, on our new friend Steve’s mooring, we slipped the pennant and got underway for Seal Harbor at Vinalhaven Island. Soon after leaving the harbor, we were back in the Gulf of Maine and sailing to the ESE in a brisk 15 knot breeze. The day was bright and sunny, and the waters sparkling with a gentle swell. Lobster fisherman in their small boats rumbled all around us, as we picked our way through the hundreds of brightly colored trap markers, or ‘pots,’ dotting the water’s surface.

On Our Second Morning in Maine, we Were Introduced to the Infamous Maine Fog

The sheer number and density of the lobster pots in Maine was nearly overwhelming. In some spots, the actual traps must be literally stacked on the sea floor. We had been warned about this by many of our cruising friends who had experience sailing in Maine waters. “Don’t come here without line cutters on your prop shafts,” they said. Line cutters are razor sharp blades or discs attached to the propeller shaft of a boat. The risk of overrunning a pot and its lines is the entanglement of the prop is the vessel propeller. This is clearly bad for the fisherman’s gear, but it can be equally bad for the boat owner as the strains placed on the vessel’s engine and transmission are powerful enough to cause serious damage.

Unfortunately, JO BETH’s underbody design is such that there is no room to fit any type of line cutter. Lisa and I had to be vigilant whenever we were underway with the engine engaged. When sailing however, we could almost always go over the pots without incident as the propeller was not engaged and spinning. Almost always.

Less than three miles from the entrance of Tenants Harbor, while negotiating the literal sea of pots we had settled into a gentle broad reach sail, flying along at 6.5 knots, or about 7.5 miles per hour, we suddenly began to slow. We watched, confused, as our speed dropped to 5.5 knots, then 5, and then 4.

“We’ve somehow snagged a pot,” I said to Lisa.

“How?”, she asked. “Around the keel? How could that happen? There’s nothing to catch the line. It should slide off”

I looked over the stern. We were towing our dinghy ‘SCOOTS,’ on a long towing line and bridle. Scoots was surfing along behind us, with about twenty feet of towing line attached to the ten foot split bridle, which was clipped to two D rings on each side of the bow of the dinghy. There, snagged neatly under the starboard bridle, as if SCOOTS had claimed his prize and tucked it under his arm to carry it home, was a bright blue and white striped lobster pot. JO BETH hadn’t gotten entangled with a pot; but her little charge had. Well, hell.

*This Photograph Shows the Sheer Density and Numbers of Lobster Pots in Maine Waters (Stock Photo)*

We were now nearly at a standstill, down to less than two knots of speed. The strain on the towline was immense, as we drug at least the one steel lobster trap, and possibly others, across the ocean floor. I began to worry the towing line would part and that we could very possibly lose our dinghy. This would be devastating, as we depend on SCOOTS to be our lifeline to shore at times.

We tried, unsuccessfully, to pull the dinghy closer, first by hand, and then with the boathook. We quickly realized we needed to get physics on our side. We led the towing line to one of the jib sheet winches in the cockpit. Lisa began the arduous task of winching SCOOTS closer so I could take the boathook and attempt to push the pot off and away from the dinghy towing bridle. It took several minutes, exhausting for Lisa, but we soon had the pot and bridle as close to the stern of the boat as could manage. Then suddenly, with a loud ‘BANG,’ the pot went flying through the air and off to the port side of the JO BETH, and the line to the trap fell away and sank. The line attaching the pot to the trap had parted under the strain, releasing SCOOTS and JO BETH.

We now understood that towing the dinghy at a distance behind the boat, where the bow of the dinghy was close to the surface of the water, is a risk when sailing here. From that moment on, we towed SCOOTS snug and close, so that his bow and towing bridle attachments were held well above the surface of the sea.

As I mentioned in the previous post, we were in Maine for a Pacific Seacraft owner’s GAM. ‘GAM’ is a term from the days of the sailing ships, and more specifically, whaling ships. These ships were often at sea for a year or longer, and when they would happen to meet in mid-ocean, the moods of weather and captains permitting, they would stop their work and basically have a huge party – or a GAM – as they drifted together.

The Beautiful Southern Side of Vinalhaven Island, Maine

The sail from Tenants Harbor to Seal Bay isn’t far, less than 30 miles, and we were soon rounding the southern side of Vinalhaven Island. The navigable channel here is strewn with rocks and is narrow, passing between several small and large islands. Remarkably, our arrival coincided with a favorable tide, and were soon through and turned north. In the late afternoon, we entered Seal Bay and anchored among a small fleet of Pacific Seacraft yachts from all around Maine and other areas of New England. JO BETH had made the furthest distance to attend, at approximately 1,100 miles.

A total of ten boats attended the GAM; JO BETH, ORIANE, CHILD’S PLAY II, the little 24-foot HOBBIT SHIP, KELLY RAE, CATALYST, ARIOSO, MAD JACK, IPHIGENIA, and COOKIE. We visited and toured each other’s boats, an interesting way to see how others addressed challenges and issues present with all boats, spent a few hours on a ‘low tide’ beach, and generally relaxed. Tom and Kathy, on board the Pacific Seacraft 37 ORIANE, and also our hosts, entertained everyone as we relaxed in our dinghies with an impromptu acoustic guitar performance from their cockpit. All in all, it was a great time though we would have liked to have had a bit longer to get to know more of the other Pacific Seacraft sailors.

With Sunday morning came a noticeable change in the weather due to an approaching cold front. Lisa and I had initially decided to stay anchored in Seal Bay, which is a well sheltered harbor, to wait out the weather. Tom, from ORIANE, has a mooring in Rockland Harbor, to the west of Vinalhaven Island, and offered it for our use during the coming week, as he and Kathy were sailing from Seal Bay to another island group in the Gulf of Maine for the week. We eagerly said yes, as we were already planning a trip to Rockland to pick up mail which we had forwarded there.

One thing we’ve noticed in our travels are the regional differences in names for the ocean and bay channels and passages between islands. For example, in many areas of the south, including Georgia, Florida, and the Carolinas, these are called ‘cuts.’ In parts of Long Island sound, they’re called ‘guts,’ and in Massachusetts, they’re often referred to as ‘holes.’ In Rhode Island, they’re called ‘passages,’ and in Maine, they’re sometimes known as a ‘reach,’ but more predominantly, as ‘thorofares.’

We left Seal Bay and set sail for Fox Islands Thorofare; then, once we were through the Thorofare, Penobscot Bay. Another thing we experienced while in New England is a real sailing culture. If the weather was good and the winds fair, there would be dozens and dozens of sailing yachts and craft everywhere. Fox Island Thorofare was no exception, and we really enjoyed seeing the beautiful boats all around us, many of them wooden boats built a century or more in the past. It was amazing.

*Crossing Penobscot Bay, Bound for Rockland Harbor*

While transiting the Thorofare, the winds steadily built until we were headed directly into a stiff 18 knot breeze. We were forced to start the motor to hold our course. Once we left the Thorofare and entered Penobscot Bay, we shut the motor off and sailed with a stiff 25 knot breeze, JO BETH flinging spray from her bow. We rocketed across the three or four mile width of Penobscot Bay and into Rockland Harbor. Rockland is a commercial harbor, with a United States Coast Guard Station, State of Maine Ferry Terminal, and a large and busy commercial fishing fleet. Soon after, we located Tom’s mooring among the moored lobster and purse-seining boats and were secured for the next week while we waited for the forecasted inclement weather to move past.

*Navigation Buoys Ready for Deployment and Maintenance at The Rockland Coast Guard Station*

Port Jefferson, NY to Tenants Harbor, Maine

August 26, 2022

The next morning, July 7th, we left Port Jefferson, NY soon after sunrise, our course set for Morris Cove, just inside the harbor at New Haven, Connecticut. We had quite a sporty sail across Long Island Sound in a brisk southeast breeze, and were anchored in the cove by mid-afternoon under a bright and warm sun. We stayed aboard for the night, enjoying a quiet afternoon and evening. Early the next morning, a father and his young son stopped by on their paddleboards.

*Morris Cove, New Haven Harbor, Connecticut*

“Did you really sail all the way here from Georgia?” the father asked.

“Actually, no. We started in Florida, at Fernandina Beach,” I replied.

“Wow. That’s so cool,” he said.

With that, they were on their way. Being asked this question was to become a routine experience for us.

*Falkner Island Lighthouse, Falkner Island, Long Island Sound*

We weighed anchor a half hour later and motored out of the cove. Once in the Sound, we set the mainsail and jib and laid in our course for the town of Old Saybrook, Connecticut. The day was bright and sunny, and the breeze fair. We scooted along at five knots, passing lonely Falkner Island with its lighthouse and lightkeeper’s cottage. At three in the afternoon, we entered Old Saybrook Harbor and turned into the sheltered basin of North Cove. We hailed the North Cove Yacht Club dockmaster and made arrangements to secure to one of their guest moorings. The moorings were free to use for up to three days, but did not include any use of services. However, for $35 per night, we could use the yacht club launch and the club bathrooms and shower. There were no laundry facilities, but there was a laundromat in the town.

*Old Saybrook Harbor Light, Old Saybrook, Connecticut*

*JO BETH on her mooring in North Cove, Old Saybrook, Connecticut*

When most people think of a ‘yacht club,’ the image of super wealthy, super stuffy old guys in navy blazers and khaki trousers, ascots around the neck, wearing deck shoes and sipping a martini come to mind. Certainly there are clubs fitting that description to the letter; however, the majority of yacht clubs around the world are informal groups of people that like to sail and mess around with boats. Often, the facilities are spartan. Most of them host sailing and boating programs for kids, as well as sail racing teams.

*Town Dock and North Cove Yacht Club, Old Saybrook, Connecticut*

The North Cove Yacht Club was one of these, friendly and very welcoming. They shared beer from their keg cooler with us, ran us back and forth in their launch, and made sure we knew our way about town. The single shower was built into a small tool shed on the side of the clubhouse building. We spent four nights there, and really enjoyed it. Old Saybrook has been one of our favorite stops so far this summer.

The town of Old Saybrook is a charming place, and easy to get around in on foot. There are coffee shops, wine shops, great restaurants and a neat little butcher shop and market, all just a few minutes’ walk from North Cove. Another thing I was looking forward was having a lobster roll and beer at The Monkey Farm. I had been to Old Saybrook many times during my work as a marine surveyor and knew The Monkey Farm from my travels there. Much has changed in the town since I was last there. I remembered the Monkey Farm as basically being a biker bar, but it has expanded and been dressed up a bit. The lobster roll was still delicious!

On a sunny Monday morning, we slipped the mooring pennant at The North Cove Yacht Club and set our course for Mystic, Connecticut. We had booked a slip at the Mystic Seaport Museum, a place we visited some 30 years ago and absolutely loved. Lisa had also visited as a student with SEA (the Sea Education Association) while in college and spent the night aboard the tall ship Joseph Conrad. We were willing to pay the exorbitant rates (around twice the going rate for dockage in New England) for the once in a lifetime experience of visiting via our own vessel. And we were very much looking forward to spending a couple of days there, plugged into shore power and taking time among the museum exhibits and boat building and repair shops. We also needed to defrost the refrigerator/freezer cold plate.

Mystic was a short sail from Old Saybrook. The Mystic River winds through the harbor, narrow and long. As we entered the river channel we were surprised to see two boats and crews we knew heading out. The yacht NOVA we knew from Brunswick Landing Marina in Brunswick, GA, and the yacht GRACE and her crew we had met in Oriental, NC and again at Ocracoke Island and Manteo in North Carolina.

Once further into the harbor, we were at the Mystic Railway Bridge and contacted the bridge tender to request an opening. Our call went unanswered, so I tried again. Then again. After several minutes, a gruff voice came on and said, “ten minutes boats, ten minutes.” We sat and waited, and in just about ten minutes, two Amtrak trains rumbled over the bridge. A few moments later, the bridge was open.

We powered through and quickly found ourselves at the Mystic Highway Bridge, a drawbridge with a strict opening schedule. We had nearly forty-five minutes to wait before the bridge would open, so we made lazy circles in the basin just before the bridge. The marina dockmaster’s office at the Seaport Museum Marina had told us to contact them for our slip assignment when at the bridge, so we did. The dockmaster gave us our slip information and said the dockhands would give boats assistance getting docked in the order they came through the draw bridge. We continued our circles.

A few minutes later, three large trawler yachts approached from our stern, led by the largest, a 55’ Grand Banks trawler. JACK DANIEL’S, the apparent leader of the group, called the drawbridge and demanded an opening. The bridge tender politely informed him the bridge only opened on the half hour, and the next opening would be at 1:30. JACK DANIEL’S acknowledged, and then she and her charges literally shoved us out of their way as they all took up station right at the bridge. The area around the drawbridge is quite narrow, and lined with marinas and boats. We had to turn away and move back towards the railway bridge to avoid being in a collision with one or more of the trawlers. Within a few minutes, another smaller trawler and sailboat joined the wait. In short order, the late arriving smaller trawler was pushed back with us. The captain glanced over to us and shook his head, thumbing towards JACK DANIEL’S and his charges.

The half hour came and went, and finally, ten minutes later, the drawbridge opened. Of course, JACK DANIEL’S and his little fleet barged through, all bound for the Seaport Museum and determined to be served first. We hung back, and after talking to the somewhat confused dockhands via the VHF radio, we waited our turn. When our turn came, we found our slip assignment to be in some of the oldest working docks, adjacent to the boatbuilding and restorations area.

This could have been quite appealing, as Lisa and I love old wooden boats, but the docks were constructed for vessels much larger than JO BETH. It took three dockhands several minutes to wrestle us into the slip and get us secured. The power plugs were too far away for our cord to reach, so the marina provided us with an extension. Lisa and I were not happy, as we had been under the impression the slip we had reserved was in the relatively new, floating dock portion of the Seaport Marina. Lisa was determined to talk to someone in the dockmaster’s office, and talk she did. We had no idea of it at the time, but it turns out the person she happened upon and began venting to was the Senior Operations Manager of the entire Seaport facility. His name was Chris, and while he wasn’t able to move us to a better slip, he above and beyond as best he could to accommodate our needs. He drove me to the local West Marine for me to pick up a replacement portable VHF radio, as well as point out restaurants, laundry facilities, etc. He even gave us access to the laundry facility used only by the Seaport staff.

In spite of Chris’s efforts, which we very much appreciated, we found the Seaport Museum to be a huge disappointment. The working areas of the museum, where old wooden sailing ships are restored and maintained was still very interesting, as were many of the nautical exhibits. Sadly though, the remainder of the facility had taken on much more of a ‘theme park’ feel in the years since our last visit. Worst of all, the Museum Bookstore had shrunk to a wisp of its former self. I made no photographs or videos the entire time we were there.

We left Mystic two days later, a bit down, but happy to be moving again. We made the very short trip to Stonington, Connecticut, around seven miles, and anchored in the large harbor. We spent a lovely and quiet evening there, and the next morning, were underway for Dutch Harbor at Jamestown, Rhode Island.

It was now that I got a huge surprise. A friend I had grown up and gone to school with, and not seen in over forty years, contacted me through FaceBook and told me she and her husband had a home in Jamestown, and that they also owned two moorings in Dutch Harbor. Jamestown is a beautiful little village opposite Newport on Narraganset Bay. Kim told us we could make use of either mooring for as long as we wished. Kim and her husband live in London, England most of the year and she said they would be in Jamestown while we were there as their oldest daughter was to be married in New York the following week. We spent three nights in Jamestown, and were able to join Kim and her husband for dinner. She also welcomed us to use their home for showers and laundry. It was great to see Kim and her husband, and meet their youngest daughter, Phoebe. We very much enjoyed our time there.

We left Jamestown and Dutch Harbor early the following Sunday morning, bound for Onset, Massachusetts and the eastern entrance of the Cape Cod Canal. We were under motor power for much of the way, but in the afternoon after entering Buzzard’s Bay, the wind filled in and we had a wild and spray filled ride through the bay to the harbor entrance at Onset. We spent a quiet night on a town mooring and planned our route for Maine after passing through the Canal. Our friends aboard GRACE were also in Onset. From there, they were heading to Boston, and then to Gloucester, Massachusetts.

*Approaching The Cape Cod Canal, eastern entrance*

As in New York Harbor, we had to have our timing right with the tide to get through the Cape Cod Canal, as the current can flow at up to six knots or faster through the canal channel. Going against it is futile. The day dawned foggy and gray, but soon we were out and riding the start of the flood tide in Buzzard’s Bay. Our planning paid off and soon we were zipping through the Canal, sometimes moving at nearly ten knots over the ground.

We had originally planned to sail directly from the western side of the Cape Cod Canal for Boothbay Harbor, Maine. However, the weather wasn’t cooperative, so we set a course for the small town of Scituate, MA, just south of Boston. We were able to make way under sail some of the day, dodging lobster trap buoys and rain squalls, but eventually had to motor as the winds collapsed. We entered the very crowded harbor at Scituate and after contacting the harbormaster’s office on the radio, were shown to a mooring. We showered, and had a very mediocre, yet very pricey, dinner in town under gray and misty skies.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny. We were soon out of Scituate Harbor and into the Gulf of Maine. We had been able to make arrangements through an acquaintance in Maine to use a friend of a friend’s mooring in tiny Tenants Harbor, and altered our plans accordingly for an overnight passage. The lobster pots were thick as we left the Massachusetts coast in our wake, and we hoped to see them thin out as we sailed into deeper waters further into the Gulf. The pots did thin significantly, but to our astonishment, we would still see them in waters as deep as eight hundred feet. We saw few boats in the Gulf, and by sunset, we were passing Portland, Maine, 45 miles over the southwestern horizon.

The night passed uneventfully, and we were able to sail much of the way. Around three in the morning, the wind faltered and we began motor sailing. By sunrise, we could see the hulking shape of Monhegan Island, our first Maine landmark. Next came Allen’s Island and Burnt Island, then Hart Island and The Brothers, a group of three small rock islands, and then Mosquito Island. The number and density of brightly colored and bobbing lobster pots increased exponentially, and dozens of lobster boats rumbled all around us, collecting their catches and then baiting and resetting the traps. The day dawned bright and clear, and as we neared Tenants Harbor, we were hailed by the trawler yacht, LIBERDADE.

Lisa and I use a professional weather forecasting service, and each morning the service hosts weather briefings for various parts of world over SSB Radio, (Single Side Band Radio – long range capable), with an internet webcast made simultaneously. We use the webcast as we don’t have SSB Radio. LIBERDADE called us to say hello, as they knew of us from participation in the webcasts.

By noon, we had entered Tenants Harbor and were on the hunt for our friend of a friend’s mooring. Soon, we found it and the mooring’s owner, Steve Cartwright, rowed out in his dinghy to introduce himself. We are very grateful for all of the kindness and generosity we’ve experienced from friends new and old in our travels.

We also discovered that friends from the Florida Keys were at Tenants Harbor. We met Corrina and her husband Greg while we were in Marathon. We knew they owned a restaurant in Maine, but couldn’t remember where it was – but, we remembered the name – ‘The Happy Clam.’ A quick look at Google Maps, and we saw that the ‘Clam,’ as it’s locally known, was a very short walk away from the Tenants Harbor public landing. We went for dinner that evening, and lunch the next day, and very much enjoyed catching up with them. If you’re ever near Tenants Harbor or the tiny village of St. George in Maine, go to the Clam. Corrina’s clam chowder and steamed mussels are amazing, and the lobster roll is the best you’ll have in all of New England. We had promised Corrina that if we were ever in Maine, we’d find her and The Clam. We were so glad we did!

We were in Maine for a Pacific Seacraft owner’s GAM. ‘GAM’ is a term from the days of the sailing ships, and more specifically, whaling ships. These ships were often at sea for a year or longer, and when they would happen to meet in mid-ocean, the moods of weather and captains permitting, they would stop their work and basically have a huge party – or a GAM – as they drifted together. The Pacific Seacraft GAM was to set start in a couple of days at Hay Island, Maine. We stayed on Steve’s mooring for two nights, and then made ready to sail to Hay Island, near Vinalhaven Island, for the GAM.

Cape May, NJ to Port Jefferson, NY

August 23, 2022

As you’ve likely noticed, we’re a bit behind in our blog updates. To see where we are in ‘real-time,’ please click here.

JO BETH lay at her anchor for just one night in Cape May Harbor. Our 35th wedding anniversary was on the day after our arrival there, and we decided to go into a marina slip for a couple of nights. This wasn’t just to have a little bit of comfort for the anniversary, but we were also facing another round of bad weather.

*Formation Flight of United States Coast Guard Dolphin Helicopters over Cape May*

Trusted friends familiar with Cape May highly recommended Utsch’s Marina for our stop. While there, we would be able to shower, do laundry, and take on diesel fuel and water. I booked a slip for two nights, and into the marina we went. Utsch’s is a well-established and very rustic facility. It’s quite large with slips on floating and fixed docks situated behind a seawall, including a small boatyard with hauling capabilities. Factory trained mechanics are also on site and there is a well-stocked bait and tackle shop. The marina has been in business for over 60 years, and is still run by the senior Utch’s two sons.

Our first stop was the fuel dock, which is at the head of the main marina fairway channel. Utsch’s, being an ‘older’ marina, has quite narrow fairways and slips. It was a tight turn into the fueling slip, but Lisa executed it flawlessly. We topped up our fuel tank with fresh diesel and were then ready to move to our assigned slip. The dockhand who helped us into the fuel dock assisted with our lines as Lisa backed JO BETH out of the fueling slip. I’ve mentioned this before, but JO BETH, like most sailboats, does not go backwards well. Because of the hydro-dynamics of the water moving over the propeller blades when the prop is reversed, we are prone to ‘propeller walking;’ that is, JO BETH’s stern moves to port, or to the left, for ten feet or so before enough water is being drawn past the rudder for her to begin moving backwards with any modicum of control. Even then, maneuvering her is dicey, with left and right turns reversed. Lisa has become quite adept at handling the boat, using the walk to our advantage, and deftly backed into one of the dock fairway channels before making a hard and tight turn back into the main fairway channel.

In quick order, Lisa pointed JO BETH into her slip where we promptly came to a hard stop – we were aground! The dock hand pulled with all of his skinny might on our bow and forward spring lines, but to no avail. Our boarding gates were also six feet from the dock. We weren’t going anywhere. The Western North Atlantic was experiencing a period of ‘spring tides,’ where the pull of the moon is slightly greater than usual, due to the orientation of the earth and moon to one another. During spring tides, the rise and fall of the water can increase by as much as three feet over the normal tidal range. Spring tides typically occur in spring and fall, but can happen anytime the earth and moon are at a specific angle to one another. Fortunately, the tide was incoming and after two or so hours, we were floating again and able to secure ourselves properly.

A leaden gray sky hung low over us as we gathered our shower bags and clean clothes to head for the showers. Hot showers with unlimited water are one of the great pleasures following an offshore passage, no matter how short or long the trip. When we came out of the showers, I found Lisa sitting in the boater’s lounge area, with a hard and steady rain drumming down outside. Gusts of wind slammed the lounge windows occasionally, with sheets of rain. We sat back and waited, knowing JO BETH was getting a well-deserved and much needed freshwater rinse.

As the rain slowed to a light shower and then a sprinkle, we headed back to the boat. Today was our wedding anniversary and we decided to walk to the closest restaurant, The Lobster House. Friends had recommended the Lobster House, but warned it was quite a touristy place. We went anyway, and was it ever touristy! We put our name on the waitlist for a table and headed into the bar. Like Utsch’s Marina, The Lobster House is a Cape May institution. The bar resembled something of a small maritime museum, with ship models and nautical paintings all over. It actually wasn’t a bad place to wait for the table; nor, fortunately, was the wait as long as we had been told it would be. The server was attentive and our dinner and appetizer were absolutely delicious; we love steamed mussels and the ones we had at The Lobster House were some of the best I’d had in a long time. We even indulged in desert!

The next day we spent doing laundry and walking around the downtown Cape May area. The day was sunny and warm, but winds were from the north, the direction we wanted to go. We enjoyed a late lunch in town; ‘linner’ (lunch-dinner), as we call it, and headed back to the boat to begin planning our departure to continue north. It was then that we realized we needed to change our plans.

The original plan had been to sail from Cape May to Block Island, Rhode Island, and then to Onset, Massachusetts. From there, we would transit the Cape Cod Canal, and then sail directly to Boothbay Harbor, Maine. When returning south, we were going to use the same route, except instead of returning to Block Island, we would sail into Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island, then move into Long Island Sound and cruise Connecticut and Long Island. Then, we would sail through New York City, back into the Atlantic, and make for the northern end of the Chesapeake Bay.

However, it was now June 28th and by the time we would arrive at Block Island it would be the start of the 4th of July holiday weekend – a long holiday weekend, as the 4th fell on a Monday. Arriving at Block Island on the 4th of July weekend would not be a good idea. It would be horrible, in fact. The island and it’s largest and most accessible harbor would be very crowded. There would be a lot of inexperienced boaters around, and the great majority of them would likely not be hydrating with water. We consulted sailing friends intimately familiar with Block Island about proceeding with our plan and all said a resounding “NO!” to doing so.

After some extensive discussion and long term revising of our intended route, we made the decision to sail for New York Harbor and the town of Port Washington, New York on Long Island. We’d be cruising Long Island Sound now as opposed to later, and looking back, this plan has worked out wonderfully.

*JO BETH Galloping Towards New York Harbor*

With a new plan in place, we plotted our course for New York Harbor. The following morning on the outgoing tide, we slipped our dock lines and powered out of Cape May Harbor into the blue and sedate Atlantic. We turned our bow north and, with full main and jib sails now set, took off for New York City. By early afternoon we were passing Atlantic City, NJ, all the while dodging dozens of small fishing boats zipping about chasing fish. The sun was warm and the skies a brilliant blue, with the wind on our aft port quarter. JO BETH rocketed along as a gentle six foot swell rolled under her. The ride was delightful.

With the approach of sunset, the swell became a bit lumpier and confused as the wind built a bit. JO BETH began to wallow and roll heavily as the intersecting swells passed under us. We took a look at our course, and our relative position to the shore, some twenty miles to our west. We decided we could alter our course a bit more to the northwest, which would change the angle of the swell to us. We prepared to ‘jibe’ (sometimes spelled ‘gybe’) the boat; that is, to adjust our course so the wind came over the aft starboard quarter as opposed to the aft port quarter. JO BETH quickly settled as we took off on our new course, and with a much more comfortable motion.

With sunset come and gone, we settled into our nighttime routine. The winds were steady and we were sailing comfortably at around five and a half or six knots. The speed was working out well; we needed to time our arrival at New York with the start of the incoming tide as we would need the tide to carry us through the harbor and the city, and into Long Island Sound. Otherwise, the currents we would face could be overwhelming and, even though we would be under motor power, they could bring us to a standstill. The winds fell very light during Lisa’s watch, and I was awakened by the sounds of her furling the jib and sheeting in the mainsail tight with the engine running, motor sailing once again.

I began my watch at 0200 and Lisa gave me her ‘change of watch’ report. The winds had fallen very light, but were still mostly south-southwest. We were ten or twelve miles east-southeast of Sandy Hook, the northern most cape on New Jersey, and should have it on the beam in about two and a half or three hours. At sunrise, we should be entering New Your Harbor at slack water, the time of the tide cycle when the tidal current isn’t flowing in one direction or another. Lisa retired below, and I settled in the cockpit with my phone and a couple of podcasts to keep me company. We had no ships close to us and were a comfortable distance from the beaches to our west. The sky was clear and it was even a bit chilly. Before my watch was over, I would put on socks and a watch cap!

About an hour into my watch, during one of my scans of the horizon, I spotted lights to the northeast. AIS showed it was an ocean going tug and fuel barge, going from New York to Baltimore. Our respective courses had us with a CPA – Closest Point of Approach – of less than one hundred feet, provided neither of us changed course beforehand. We were moving at around four or four and a half knots; the tug and barge were moving at close to sixteen, and we were roughly nine miles apart. I made a 10 degree course change to the northwest and watched as our CPA shifted to a much more comfortable one and a half miles. Soon, the tug and her tow had passed well to our east. It was then that I noticed the lights of Manhattan glowing on the northwestern horizon.

By sunrise, we had passed Sandy Hook, NJ and turned into Ambrose Channel, the main channel into New York Harbor. Lisa was still sleeping below as the New York skylight glowed golden in the rising sun. Somewhat mesmerized by the scene unfolding front of me, and likely a bit overtired, I was startled to discover a massive oil tanker sliding up the channel on our stern. The ship was still two or three miles behind us, but closing fast. Just as I was reaching for the VHF radio to call them, the ship’s harbor pilot hailed us.

“JO BETH, JO BETH, JO BETH, this is the tank vessel PEGASUS STAR on your stern. We will overtake you on your starboard side, over.”

“PEGASUS STAR, this is JO BETH. Good copy for starboard to starboard pass. We will maintain course and speed, over.”

“JO BETH, PEGASUS STAR, good copy. Tank vessel PEGASUS STAR, inbound Ambrose Channel, standing by channels 9, 13, and 16 for all concerned traffic.”

“JO BETH, inbound Ambrose Channel, standing by channel 16, out.”

I edged JO BETH to the left side of the channel and watched as PEGASUS STAR slipped by, her massive propeller thrashing the water as she went. An outbound tug and barge passed us soon after the tanker was clear. Following a slight bend in the channel, we were quickly positioned to pass beneath the famous Verrazano Narrows Bridge. As we were closing on the bridge, the cycle of being overtaken and dodging the many ferries moving around New York began.

*Approaching Newy York Harbor and the Verrazano Narrows Bridge*

Shortly after the tug and barge were astern of us, and PEGASUS STAR was well ahead, I woke Lisa. Within a half-hour, we passed beneath the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and were in the harbor proper. The massive orange and black Staten Island Ferries plowed past us, as did multiple tugs pushing barges loaded with fuel, scrap metals and trash. Hyper-fast express ferries jetted past, all of them creating huge and confused wakes in the waters. There seemed to be a ferry for every imaginable route one could take in the city.

Soon, we were passing in front of the Statue of Liberty, and both of us realized it was the first time we’d seen her from the front. We passed Governor’s Island, a former military installation, now a part of the National park Service, and entered the choppy and turbulent East River. The Brooklyn Bridge soon loomed over us, and we gazed at the glass, steel and metal towers of the city that surrounded us. The incoming tidal current pushed us along at an amazing eight knots over the river bottom. All around us, people jogged, biked, and walked along the riverside. Trains, cars, and trucks rumbled on the bridges overhead.

Soon, we were passing through Harlem and into the dreaded Hell’s Gate Channel, known for its whirlpools and swirling currents. Our passage through was relatively calm and completely uneventful. We thought of Georgia’s ‘Hell Gate,’ a land cut in the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway just south of Savannah. It is much narrower and shallower than New York’s Hell’s Gate Channel and has much the same tidal flow, though at more extreme angles. We found Georgia’s Hell Gate to be far more challenging. Once through Hell’s Gate, we were abeam of the infamous Riker’s Island Prison.

Here the East River became the Harlem River and widened considerably. Once through Throg’s Neck Bridge, we entered Long Island Sound. We had decided to head for Port Washington, on Manhasset Bay and soon entered the wide mouth of the harbor. We were able to find a vacant city mooring and claimed it for our own for the next several days. It was Thursday, June 30 and we would stay in Port Washington until Tuesday, July 5.

(We want to thank Bill and Grace aboard CALICO SKIES for their guidance and recommendations on cruising in Long Island Sound. Check out their YouTube channel, and be sure to subscribe and follow them there!)

Port Washington was a lovely stop. The fee for the city moorings includes a launch service to get to and from shore, but no other services. There are some great restaurants and coffee shops there, large supermarkets, and the town boasts one of the prettiest and well managed libraries we’ve seen. The library even has an outdoor terrace and coffee bar overlooking the harbor. The launch operators were very friendly and professional. Most everything we needed was in walking distance. When the fourth of July came, we were able to see multiple fireworks in a full 360° view from the comfort of our cockpit.

On July 5, we bid Port Washington farewell and sailed for Port Jefferson, NY, some 35 miles to the east. The skies were sunny at the start, but soon a high overcast filled in. The forecast southwest winds soon backed to the southeast and we found ourselves sailing close on the wind in a brisk twenty knot breeze. JO BETH sped along on a choppy and dark Long Island Sound flinging spray from her bow. The breeze was cool, and Lisa and I both donned lightweight long sleeve shirts. The few rain showers which developed in the afternoon were chilly but fast moving.

The day was uneventful and passed quickly. As we approached the entrance buoy for Port Jefferson, we furled the headsail and sheeted the mainsail tight on the centerline. I started the motor and we set our course for the harbor entrance, noting one of the large passenger ferries from the mainland approaching. Just as were entering the rock jetties, an engine alarm sounded. A quick look at the control panel showed the engine was overheating. I shut the engine off immediately and Lisa steered us back into the sound and clear of the ferry which was almost inside the jetties. Fortunately, we had left the mainsail set, and Lisa was able to sail clear of the massive steel ferry and the granite boulders which make up the jetties.

I went into the JO BETH’s cabin and opened the forward access hatch to the engine compartment. The engine belts were intact and all of the cooling system hoses were still affixed. There was no steam, no smoke, nor any sign of water leaking. It seems we shut the engine down early enough to avoid any serious damage. I placed the back of my hand against the sea water pump housing and immediately yanked it away. The pump was scalding hot! It was then I realized the sea water pump impeller had likely failed. The impeller is like a semi-flexible rubber propeller. It spins within the pump, creating suction to draw in sea water from outside of the boat and positive pressure to push it through the engine cooling system to absorb the heat from the engine coolant, keeping the engine at the proper operating temperature. If one or more the impeller blades, or vanes, fail, the impeller will not function properly.

The pump was too hot to handle in the immediate moment, plus the jetties were still uncomfortably close. Had we been further out, we could have waited for the pump to cool. However, it was getting dark and sailing into an unfamiliar harbor in the dark was an absolute last resort, done only if we found no other solution. We decided to call for a tow.

I picked up the VHF radio microphone.

“Sea Tow Port Jefferson, Sea Tow Port Jefferson, Sea Tow Port Jefferson, this is sailing vessel JO BETH, JO BETH, over.

“This is Sea Tow Port Jefferson to the vessel calling, switch and answer channel 71, channel 71, over.”

“Sea Tow Port Jefferson, this is JO BETH. Good copy for channel 71, channel 71, over.”

I switched the channel from 16 to 71.

“Sea Tow Port Jefferson, this is JO BETH, channel 71, over.”

For the non-sailor readers, VHF channel 16 is the international hailing and distress channel. It is used only for those purposes, and for vessels to make passing or overtaking arrangements, such as we did with the tanker PEGASUS STAR in Ambrose Channel going into New York Harbor. Once contact is made, vessels are required to choose a non-working channel to continue any conversation.

Sea Tow replied and after an explanation of our situation and confirmation of our GPS position, we continued sailing around the sound west of the harbor entrance and waited. In about twenty minutes, we saw the small yellow and black tow boat heading our way. Coincidentally, a sailing catamaran, under mainsail only had started into the harbor entrance. We had advised Sea Tow that we were under mainsail alone, and it became clear after a few moments that he had confused the catamaran with us. A quick call on the VHF resolved the situation. Soon he was alongside and we were under tow into the harbor and to our reserved mooring at the port Jefferson Yacht Club.

The Sea Tow captain towed us from the sound and into a large basin in the harbor, where he then re-positioned his vessel alongside JO BETH’s aft port quarter to tow us the rest of the way through the harbor. This is called ‘hip towing’ and gives the towing vessel much more control over the vessel being towed. However, JO BETH is a heavy girl, built for the rigors of the open sea, and doesn’t tolerate being shoved around so well. After two failed attempts to get our mooring secured, the crew of a sailboat moored close by got in their dinghy to assist. Once we were on the mooring and holding, we issued our thanks to the other boat’s crew, and concluded our business with SeaTow. We had a couple of well-deserved strong drinks and wound down a bit.

We were on a guest mooring of the Port Jefferson Yacht Club and when morning came, we took the club launch to the docks and walked into town for breakfast at the famous Toast restaurant. Back aboard JO BETH, I set about tackling the engine overheating problem. After closing the seawater intake valve, I removed the cover plate for the sea water pump and found the impeller had essentially disintegrated. Of the original six vanes, only one remained attached to the impeller hub – and it was badly torn. I was able to quickly recover another three of the vanes from the pump housing, which left two vanes still missing somewhere in the depths of the cooling system. I talked to mechanic friends about the best way to recover the missing components. My concern was a chunk of the impeller may have lodged within the engine heat exchanger, further disrupting the heat exchanger’s performance. However, in order to access the heat exchanger end caps, I would have to disconnect and remove the engine alternator. Also, I didn’t have the correct gasket kits or gasket materials on board to replace the heat exchanger end caps properly. We contacted a couple of local mechanics, neither of which could get to us in a timely manner.

Eventually, I removed the system hoses between the seawater inlet, seawater pump, and the heat exchanger, and was able to recover all but one tiny sliver of the failed impeller. I set about replacing the impeller with one of our spares, and by the late afternoon, the engine was operative once again.

So, why did the impeller fail? An impeller will fail if water flow to it is restricted or cut off. This wasn’t the case, as I was able to confirm the intake system was fully clear. The most likely cause was the age of the impeller. In February we had replaced the older water pump with this one. The pump ships from the factory with an impeller installed, and the replacement pump had been aboard and stowed away for nearly eighteen months. It is likely the impeller vanes, compressed in the pump housing, had begun to deteriorate and crack, or to develop a ‘set,’ where the vanes become stiff and inflexible. When I realized the impeller had failed, I gave myself an internal dope-slap, as I had briefly thought about swapping the impeller when I replaced the pump and belts in February. Lesson learned.

*Many yacht Clubs and Municipal Facilities in New England Provide Launch Services for their Harbors*

The weather in Port jefferson had cleared and we went into town for dinner. We would leave the following morning, bound for Connecticut waters. We didn’t enjoy Port Jefferson as much as we did Port Washington, and one obvious reason was the circumstances with the motor. That aside, the yacht club was something of an interesting experience. The launch service was manned by grumpy old guys, and there was little information as to where things were in the facility itself. The club did not have any laundry facilities, though it did offer showers and bathrooms, but it took us forever to find them. When we did, it was through directions from a teen aged sailing teacher there, who, thankfully, also shared the lock codes with us. We did enjoy a good breakfast in town at Toast, another recommendation from friends. If we’d not had the trouble with the engine, I think we would have been a bit more lighthearted while there.

Oriental, NC to Cape May, NJ

August 03, 2022

As you’ve likely noticed, we’re a bit behind in our blog updates. To see where we are in ‘real-time,’ please click here.

JO BETH held fast on Oriental’s free dock during the adverse weather for the next day or so, and by the following day, Saturday evening, conditions had calmed completely. Sunday morning dawned with a light overcast and easy southeasterly breeze. After a quick trip to The Bean Coffee Shop for croissants and coffee, we slipped the dock lines and motored away. Once passed the docked fishing fleet and clear of the harbor breakwater, we set the jib to catch the winds while continuing to motorsail. We spotted Tim and Christine aboard SERENITY on our AIS display, some eight miles east-northeast of us. To our southeast, a sailing catamaran approached, gradually overtaking us and crossing our bow. After about an hour, the southeasterly breeze filled in a bit more and we set the mainsail and shut down the motor. We sailed over the relatively placid Neuse River at four or five knots.

Thunderheads were building over the mainland to our west and soon began to roll across the water. We passed from the Neuse River into Pamlico Sound and the storms continued to build. This wasn’t unexpected, as the weather forecast had indicated a moderate chance of showers and thunderstorms throughout the day. We’d hoped to outpace them, but that didn’t seem to be in the cards. We watched as the first storm to hit the waters rolled across the eastern horizon, right where SERENITY was sailing. Tim and I texted back and forth. He indicated there wasn’t much rain or wind with the squall, but the lightning had both he and Christine on edge. Soon, he reported it was past, with no troubles and they were once again sailing under sunny skies. We also noticed another sailboat, motor sailing or sailing under just her mainsail, to our north, paralleling our course.

Now, it was our turn for a squall as one quickly came up from astern. The wind had built further, and was approaching 15 knots, still from the southeast. I went to the mast to put a reef in the mainsail; that is, to partially lower the sail and secure it so as to reduce the overall sail area presented to the wind. This allows us to balance and better control the boat in stronger winds, and to sail as efficiently as possible. Just as I finished reefing the mainsail, big fat raindrops started hitting me, each one an icy cold sting. Then, the squall’s winds were on us, climbing rapidly from 15 knots into the middle 20’s. JO BETH heeled over and roared off across a darkening Pamlico Sound.

We hadn’t been able to secure the cockpit enclosure before the squall and with the driving rain, both Lisa and I were soaked. The wind was at a steady 25 knots now and gusted into the mid-30 knot range. A steep chop built on the sound, but thankfully was coming on our stern quarter. It was wild and fast ride, and over in about 15 minutes. The rain quickly settled to a light shower, and the winds all but collapsed. The sailboat we had spotted to our north had vanished in the wall of rain and wind; she soon reappeared with a partially reefed mainsail making slow, wide circles. Soon, we surmised that her mainsail, which was fitted with an in-mast furling system, had likely become jammed during the squall. We tried hailing her on the VHF radio, but got no response. She continued on her course, paralleling ours.

The wind quickly returned and settled in at 18 knots, with a bit more east in it. We kept the mainsail reefed and added a reef to the jib and galloped along at nearly seven knots towards Ocracoke Island. The OCRACOKE EXPRESS, one of the many ferries of the North Carolina Ferry System passed us on her route from Ocracoke Island to Swan Quarter, NC. As the low and dark line of Ocracoke Island began to rise above the horizon, the waters in the sound gradually started to shallow. Soon, after passing through the long and narrow Big Foot Slough Channel, we turned into the short entrance channel to Silver Lake Harbor. The mystery sailboat we watched get hammered in the squall soon overtook us in the channel, seemingly eager to be in and secured in their marina slip. Once in the harbor basin, we spotted SERENITY lying quietly at anchor. After scouting around for a place to drop our hook, we settled in to the west of SERENITY and set our hook. Tim came out on deck and waved. It had been a busy trip, and Lisa and I were tired.

Soon, Tim and Christine stopped by in their dinghy, on their run to shore for a bathroom break for their recently acquired dog, Snacks. Snacks had belonged to Christine’s mom, and following her mom’s passing, Christine and Tim took Snacks in. He’s an old little pup, but very friendly and mellow. He was quite happy to sit in Christine’s lap wherever they were. Tim sent a text later that night, saying they were going to rent a golf cart for the next day. He asked if we would like to share the cost and the tour Ocracoke with them. We readily agreed, as we were eager to see this little island outpost.

The next morning, Lisa and I dinghied in and met Tim and Christine, and of course, Snacks at the town dinghy dock. We picked up the rental golf cart and struck out. Ocracoke Island was indeed quaint and charming. One of our first stops was at Dajo, a fantastic restaurant that a friend had recommended. I ordered the fish tacos, made with freshly caught Spanish Mackerel, and they were some of the best I’ve ever had. After lunch, we made for Ocracoke Lighthouse. The lighthouse, originally built and commissioned in 1832, is among the smallest in The Outer Banks. At just 65’ tall, it’s light can be seen for 14 miles into the Atlantic Ocean and Pamlico Sound. It’s fully automated now, and still charted and in operation today. Tours of the lighthouse are available, but access is limited. We were allowed to go into the lighthouse, but had to remain at the ground level.

There is also the British Cemetery, which contains the remains of British Sailors lost during a German submarine attack during the early days of World War II. The HMT BEDFORDSHIRE was torpedoed by the German U-Boat 558 on May 11, 1942. All 37 British Royal Navy sailors aboard were killed. In the days following the attack, the bodies of four of the British crew washed ashore on Ocracoke and were buried by local residents. We also visited several other small cemeteries scattered over the island, some with graves dated back to the early 1700’s. Many of the graves we saw were of infants and children; life was hard on these remote strips of sand.

We continued our tour of the island, stopping at a tea shop for Lisa and a small local beer brewery for a couple of refreshing rounds of local brew. As the day was getting late, we returned the golf cart and stopped at a little restaurant for a quick dinner before heading back to our boats.

Lisa and I stayed the next day; SERENITY weighed anchor and got underway as they had a favorable wind to make for Belhaven, NC. Lisa and I were staying in the Outer Banks, and planned to head for Roanoke Island and the town of Manteo, NC. We needed to wait another day at Ocracoke for a southerly breeze. Late that afternoon, in an effort to shade the hot, setting sun from the cockpit, we hunted for one of our new cockpit screens, only to find it missing. I had strung a bungie cord underneath the cockpit top, and we had been storing the unused enclosure panels and screens there, rolled up. The system wasn’t perfect and it was a struggle to keep tension in the elastic cord. We searched high and low for it, eventually coming to the conclusion it had been lost during the squall on our way out to Ocracoke.

The next morning, we had our southerly wind and followed the OCRACOKE EXPRESS out the Big Foot Slough Channel. As she continued west, we turned north and set sail.

Our VHF radio is the primary source of communication with other boats, drawbridge tenders, marinas, etc. We often use it for weather information as well, and still receive dangerous weather warnings through the VHF system, though we now rely more on satellite internet resources for weather forecasts. The U.S. Coast Guard makes routine and often mundane information and safety broadcasts, and of course we can hear (and eavesdrop) on calls between other vessels. We also hear the Coast Guard talking with other vessels for a variety of reasons; some are in genuine distress, some are reporting sightings of objects adrift, and so on. It’s quite unusual to hear both sides of the conversation; usually, we can only hear the Coast Guard side because of their powerful radios and high antennas.

Usually, this radio chatter fades into the background noise of the JO BETH. Once in a while though, something catches our attention. With Ocracoke Island fading astern, we were motor-sailing over a calm Pamlico Sound. The OCRACOKE EXPRESS had diminished to a dot on the western horizon. We heard the radio crackle to life, but weren’t really paying close attention; we had already heard marine safety broadcasts about an adrift kayak some 40 miles from our position, scheduled maintenance on a bridge near Morehead City, and so on. Lisa suddenly asked, “did the Coast Guard just say ‘hey guys’ to that boat?” We both stopped and listened.

Sure enough, we heard the radio operator’s voice clearly say, “Hey Guys, this is the United States Coast Guard. Repeat your GPS position please.”

I looked at Lisa. “Somebody named their boat “Hey Guys?” I asked.

“Apparently,” she said, adding “that’s hilarious.”

We listened a bit more. We learned HEY GUYS is a small 28’ fishing boat that had broken down about 15 miles out into the Atlantic. They had contacted the Coast Guard to ask them to contact a local tow boat service, as they were unable to reach the towing company with their radio alone, and were too far out to have cell service. Soon, the tow boat was underway to them and we heard nothing else from the Coast Guard on HEY GUYS. Of course, Lisa and I started coming up with silly boat names. ‘Hey Ladies’ was one; when I relayed this conversation to a boating friend, she said, “my next boat is gonna be called, ‘Yo Peeps.’”

*“…a very low chance of squalls and thunderstorms…”*

What breeze we had soon turned fickle, becoming variable in strength and direction. We attempted to move under sail power alone, but were only able to sail for an hour or so. The weather forecast had indicated we should have steady 15 knot south-southeasterly winds and a very low chance of squalls and thunderstorms. This proved to be wrong as well, as by noon, we were completely surrounded by low, heavy clouds colored a spooky shade of gray and purple, sitting low on the water. We only got a smattering of rain, and winds stayed light, but it was unnerving. By middle afternoon, the worst of it was passed and we were approaching the main channel to the eastern side of Roanoke Island under mostly sunny skies. Big House Channel, as it’s known, is the only way to get to the town and harbor of Manteo on a sailboat when approaching from the south via Pamlico Sound. The channel on the western side of the island is deeper and wider, but there is a fixed bridge which limits the majority of sailboats from taking that route. Big House Channel is long, approximately 12 miles, and frightfully narrow and shallow. The waters in this area of Pamlico Sound are dotted with duck blinds. They were literally everywhere outside of the main channel, ranging in size from miniscule to a summer house. Just gazing at the horizon, there were times when two dozen, perhaps more, were in eyeshot. How the hunters keep from shooting on another is beyond me.

By sunset, were through the bulk of Big House Channel, and now faced another obstacle – the entrance to Manteo Harbor. It is very shallow at its mouth, but it does deepen a bit once inside. There is an anchorage area, but we had a lot of work to do and needed to be plugged into shore power for a few days. We had booked a slip at the Manteo City Marina and as we entered the marina basin, we proceeded to our assigned slip. It was a hair raising docking; we made it in, but we were not happy. The slip was adjacent to a large public gazebo built out over the water. In order to turn into our slip, we nearly became entangled with the overhangs of the gazebo roof. Once inside the slip, we could not get in far enough forward to be able to easily step on and off of the boat. There were no cleats on the dock; tying to pilings was our only option, but two of them, at the outer edge of the slip were too far away. Once we were settled, we had to climb on or off the boat at the starboard bow quarters. We were not happy, to say the least.

Tired and stressed, we walked into town for dinner. The only open restaurant we found seated us right away, but then literally forgot us. We had to ask two or three different servers, two or three different times for our server to come to the table. Once she did, our drink and dinner orders came relatively quick, but Lisa’s food order was completely wrong. Rather than send it back she accepted it with a reluctant smirk. When our bill came, it was brought by the manager, who stood at the table and complained to us about how he hated his job; that he couldn’t get staff and had already put in 80 hours that week. Lisa and I, both small business owners, could relate to his plight, but seriously – the lack of professionalism and common courtesy left much to be desired. Manteo was losing any appeal it had held for us at lightspeed.

The next morning, I contacted the marina office and told them our slip situation was not acceptable. To their credit, I was told we could move to any open slip we felt was better. We found one on the T-head of the next dock to the north, (a ‘T-Head’ is the long dock at the waterway end of a pier; when seen from above, it’s shaped like the letter ‘T.’) With the help of a dock neighbor, we were able to get ourselves moved and secured without incident. It was during this time I learned the Town Marina is basically not staffed. There is a dockmaster’s office there, with a sign on the door saying a dockhand is present only on Saturdays, from 10-4 or something similar. We never saw any marina or city employee on site the entire four days we were there. When we booked the marina slip, through an online reservation service called Dockwa, the confirmation email we received encouraged us to use the marina facilities, including the showers, laundry, dock carts and self-service waste pump out system. The email included the pass codes for the showers and laundry, and the Wi-Fi password. However, the dock carts were under lock and key, as was the pump out system. We planned to do an Instacart grocery delivery, so I called the dockmaster’s office to ask how to access the dock carts. My call went unanswered and our Instacart driver helped us carry our groceries through the marina, down the docks, and to the boat. The showers and laundry were available, thankfully.

We had heard many good things about Manteo from several of our sailing friends, but Lisa and I were sorely disappointed. Perhaps we expected too much, but we were done with it and ready to move on. We waited on the northerly winds to ease and abate, but we had to be careful about our timing once they did. Several days of strong winds, from one direction or another, influence the water levels in the North Carolina sounds far more than the lunar tidal cycles do. There was a real possibility we could become stuck if the northerlies persisted. (Tim and Christine aboard SERENITY were stuck in Belhaven, NC for a few days last year after persistent strong winds dropped the water levels there by three feet!) Fortunately, on Sunday, we had a favorable forecast for easterly winds. Being concerned about the water levels around Roanoke Island, I spoke with the local Tow Boat/US operator the night before our departure. He indicated the only trouble area we might have is leaving Manteo itself. That proved to be the case, as we bumped bottom heading out of the harbor. We were able to turn around and move on without incident, finally entering the relatively deep waters of Albemarle Sound.

Albermarle Sound soon became quite rough, as the wind backed from the east to the northeast and then north. We pounded into a steep chop all morning, JO BETH shoving the squared, blocked waves aside, flinging spray into the air as she went. By early afternoon, we left the Albermarle behind, entering the North River and much calmer waters. Our destination for the night was the fabled Coinjock Marina in the little North Carolina town of Coinjock. Aside from being a popular and even necessary stop on the Waterway, the marina has a restaurant with a well-known reputation for excellent prime rib. For us, it was a necessary stop as we needed fuel again, and water. Of course, I really wanted to sample the prime rib!

We had reserved the dock space in Coinjock while in Manteo. After contacting the Coinjock dockmaster on the VHF radio, we were heading into our assigned space, with dockhands waiting. The wind caught our stern and slew us around unexpectedly. Lisa aborted the docking and I informed the dockhands we were going around again. The motor yacht behind us then dashed in and took the section of dock we had been told to go to. The dockhands handled his lines and secured his boat, seemingly forgetting about us, as we suddenly did not know where to go. Soon, it was sorted out and we were secured in front of the arrogant captain and his boat. We waited while the motor yacht was fueled, and then had to remind the dockhand we were taking on fuel as well. Once that was done, I had had enough. It was time for showers, and following showers, prime rib.

We showered and walked to the restaurant. It was only then that we realized it was Father’s Day. We were told the wait for a table was two hours plus, unless we had reservations. When I had made the reservation for the marina slip, I was told the restaurant didn’t accept reservations and was seated on a first come, first served basis. The hostess was clearly perplexed when i told her this, and politely informed us we could go to the bar and wait. Lisa wanted to go to the back to the boat, but I would not be denied my prime rib! Once in the bar, we found an empty high-top table and waited patiently for service. Lisa, seeing my temper rise, decided to go to the bar and ask if we could be served at our table. The bartender told Lisa she could make drinks for us, but there was no service at the bar tables for drinks or dinner. We then watched as a couple came in, sat at the bar, received menus, and placed their dinner orders. Now fuming, Lisa went back to the bar as I wondered if I should have – but the bartender then informed her, “oh yes, you can be served at the bar, just not at the bar tables.” For what it’s worth, the prime rib was decent – but honestly, we’ve both had much better. Coinjock Marina is a necessary stop for most sailboats moving north and south on the Intracoastal Waterway, but our curiosity of the place has been sated.

We were underway the next morning at dawn, eager to enter Virginia waters. We passed through freshwater Currituck Sound and into the Albermarle and Chesapeake Canal. Just after noon, we were at Chesapeake, VA with half a dozen other boats waiting to pass through the Great Bridge drawbridge and into the Great Bridge Locks at the head of the Albermarle and Chesapeake Canal. The locks lifted us a few feet to the level of the Elizabeth River which would carry us into the busy harbor of Norfolk, VA. The locks also serve to keep the brackish and salty waters of the Elizabeth River from mixing into Currituck Sound. Soon we were through the locks, and passing the heavily industrialized and busy banks of the Elizabeth River. We passed by multiple tug and barge staging and loading yards, and in the southern portion of Norfolk Harbor, bulk discharge docks and container loading and discharge piers. We were pushing to make the three-thirty opening of the Gilmerton Highway Bridge; the bridge would then be locked closed, except for emergency openings, for the duration of the afternoon rush hour until six-thirty. We just made it through, as did another sailboat following on our stern.

*Railway drawbridge entering the ports of Norfolk and Portsmouth, VA*

The U.S. Navy maintains a massive presence in Norfolk, and we passed by dozens of warships in dry docks and service yards on both sides of the river. As we entered Portsmouth, VA, we began looking for the small town basin and docks situated on the west bank of the river. There, the town maintains a free dock for use up to 36 hours – an odd choice of time for most boaters – but free nonetheless. SERENITY was anchored about a mile north of Portsmouth in a cove off of the river’s west bank known as Hospital Point. She would be moving on to Deltaville, VA, then Annapolis, MD in the coming days.

We located and entered the tiny Portsmouth Town Basin and found plenty of room to tie up on the free dock. The basin is also used by the Portsmouth Ferry Service, crossing between Portsmouth and Norfolk. The ferry captains are diligent in their duties, sounding departure horn signals with each departure from the basin – from six in the morning until midnight – seven days a week.

*The tired sailor’s salvation - pizza and beer!*

The City of Portsmouth asks all boaters using the town dock to ‘check-in’ at the small kiosk across the basin. I walked over to the kiosk, and found it completely empty, and locked up tight. Tired and hungry, Lisa and I walked into town and found one of the few open places on a Monday; a small tavern which served excellent brick-oven pizza and cold beer. We also found the visitor’s center and a coffee and bagel shop – all closed. We returned to the boat tired and sleepy. Lisa listened to her Atlanta Braves baseball game, while I drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened every half hour by the departing ferries.

Portsmouth is where the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway formally begins or ends, depending on whether you’re traveling north or south, a point known as ‘Mile 0.’ Docked directly across from the town basin were two massive U.S. Navy LHD warships, or ‘multipurpose amphibious assault’ ships. The ships appeared to be undergoing various repairs and or upgrades, and were a hive of activity day and night.

The next morning, Lisa and I ventured into town to the bagel and coffee shop. We also stopped at the Visitor’s Center and asked about checking-in for the town dock. The lady behind the desk asked when we arrived. “Late yesterday afternoon,” I said as she opened a registration book.

She blinked at me. “You’ve already spent a night, then?” she asked.

“Yes, I said, but we’re unclear as to how long we can actually stay. The way the rules are written is a bit confusing.” She closed the book and pushed it aside.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. You’re already here,” she said. “The time limit is 36 hours, but…as long as there’s room and no boats are waiting to tie up…” She shrugged.

***JO BETH*** *at the Portsmouth, VA town basin*

We never understood the idea basis for the thirty-six hour time frame. The vast majority of free town docks we know of are available for twenty-four or forty-eight hours once every twenty-one or thirty days; we know of one or two that are seventy-two hours once every thirty days. I even stopped a police officer on the sidewalk one evening and asked him if he knew what the time limit actually was for the docks. He seemed genuinely surprised to find out Portsmouth had a free use town dock!

The next afternoon, more boats arrived at the Portsmouth Town Basin, including Josh aboard his twenty-eight foot Cape Dory sailboat WAYFINDER. Josh was single-handing and on his way to the upper Hudson River Valley in New York for his summer job on a schooner plying the Hudson River. A couple on a small Sea Ray Motor Yacht came in as well. Before long, Josh had invited everyone to his boat for a pancake breakfast the next morning. Lisa fried a pound of bacon for our contribution. That same evening, we all went to see the new Top Gun movie at the small town cinema, restored and converted to an art-deco styled dinner theater. As it turned out, Josh and Lisa knew several people and boats in common from the tall ship world.

We found an actual working pay telephone in Portsmouth, VA

Friends from Brunswick, GA, Jim and Maryann, were with their yacht AMANDA in Yorktown, Virginia. AMANDA is a Dutch Canal Boat, built in the Netherlands. They had recently shipped her across the Atlantic after living aboard for a couple of years cruising the canals of The Netherlands, Belgium and France. They were now in a boatyard in Yorktown, preparing the boat for use in the States. They were kind enough to let us have our mail and packages forwarded to them. They drove down to Portsmouth one evening to bring our mail. We had a great time catching up over dinner at The Bier Garten, a fantastic German restaurant in downtown Portsmouth.

The next morning, Josh and I went to the bagel shop and pored over the charts and weather forecasts for our planned passages north. He was under more of a time crunch than Lisa and I, and decided to leave the next morning in spite of a forecast for building strong southwesterly winds. We were both bound for Cape May, NJ, though our planned tracks would diverge there. Josh would continue on to New York Harbor and into the Hudson River, while Lisa and I were leaving Cape May and aiming for Block Island, RI.

Josh was underway by mid-morning the next day, and gave us text reports throughout his trip. When Lisa and I left Portsmouth the following morning, Josh was just passing the mouth of the Delaware Bay. The forecasted strong winds did materialize for him, but fortunately, were not so strong as had been predicted.

During our time in Portsmouth, we were able to get a ‘dinghy’ pass at Tidewater Marina, situated within walking distance - about a half mile north of the Portsmouth Town Basin. The dinghy pass granted us access to the marina shower and bathroom facilities, as well as the outdoor lounge area, laundry, and Wi-Fi. The cost of the pass was $12.00 for 24 hours. We used the facilities twice more, and each time we attempted to pay, we were told by the marina manager not to worry about it – now that’s great customer service!

*U.S. Naval vessels moored in Norfolk, VA*

Just after sunrise on Saturday morning, we left the Portsmouth Town Basin and began moving north on the Elizabeth River under motor power, passing more of the Navy’s massive ships and shore installations. Machine gun wielding guards posted at the bows of two sleek cruisers followed our progress with their bodies as we moved past the warships, their weapons held across their torsos, neither pointed down or in our direction. As we moved into the wider and deeper portions of the river, we began sailing as the wind permitted.

Leaving Portsmouth and the Chesapeake Bay was a busy affair; a U.S. Navy aircraft carrier departed in front of us, and a U.S. Coast Guard Cutter departed behind us. At the mouth of the bay, we were greet by an inbound U.S. Navy submarine and her gunboat escorts, as well two arriving container ships, and an oil tanker. Once in the Atlantic and on Course for Cape May, we saw only one or two small fishing boats and little else. The day faded into a crystal clear night, with only the stars and moon above and the dim glow of towns ashore over the western horizon visible on the dark sea.

That feeling of being alone persisted through the night until about three-thirty in the morning. As we were passing the dazzling lights of Ocean City, MD during my night watch, incredible numbers of sportfishing boats began exiting the harbor at once. It had to be a fishing tournament, and a big one. I counted at least twenty two fishing boats of all sizes crossing in front of and behind us within a forty-five minute period.

As dawn broke on the horizon, Lisa took the watch as we were crossing the mouth of Delaware Bay. I took a short nap, and by noon, we had sighted the Cape May Sea Buoy, marking the channel entrance into Cape May Harbor; by two in the afternoon, we were anchored in the harbor anchorage adjacent to the large U.S. Coast Guard training base. We would stay in Cape May for three days, two of which were spent at a marina waiting for adverse weather to pass. As it would happen, a significant change in plans was in store for us when we left Cape May to continue north.

We (Finally!) Get Underway - Fernandina Beach, FL to Oriental, NC

August 01, 2022

As you’ve likely noticed, we’re several months behind in our blog updates. To see where we are in ‘real-time,’ please click here.

JO BETH was launched at Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works in Fernandina Beach, FL on April 26th and secured alongside the facility service docks. Walt, the facility mechanic had some minor work to complete on the auxiliary diesel engine service; purging the air from cooling system, finalizing the propeller shaft alignment, and checking general engine operation. Those tasks were completed by mid-afternoon that same day and JO BETH was secured behind the trawler yacht ANDIAMO, a beautiful Selene 53 owned by our close and longtime friend Rusty Thomas. But for Lisa and I, it was now that the real work began in earnest.

***JO BETH*** *afloat again - Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works Service Docks*

After JO BETH was hauled in March, we discovered a serious mold problem had developed aboard, inside almost every enclosed locker and cabinet. Our clothes and linens were damp and sported blotches of mold, as did our canvas bags we used for groceries, camera bags and cases, hats, the undersides of cushions, etc. To make matters worse, we discovered that the edge of a through bolt which fastened the legs of the arch on the aft port quarter side deck had worn a small hole through the engine exhaust hose. The engine uses sea water, sucked in from outside, to cool the antifreeze-coolant mixture which circulates in the internal cooling system of the engine, much like a car radiator uses air passing over it to cool a car’s engine. The seawater is then injected into the exhaust hose at a mixing elbow where it cools the hot exhaust gasses, before everything is pushed overboard through the exhaust hose. A fine mist of sea water had been sprayed throughout the compartment over several days of engine operation. This resulted in a massive mold bloom within the locker. Lisa and I spent nearly three full days literally removing all of our possessions from the boat’s interior, including clothes, linens, sails, tools, bags and backpacks, hats…you name it. We also had to empty the refrigerator and freezer and transfer the contents to our friend’s Rusty and Phyllis’s home where we were staying for the duration of the haul period.

The next two weeks were spent doing laundry, cleaning and removing mold from our bags, books, camera cases, clothes, jackets, hats, linens, etc. We threw away our pillows and replaced them with new ones, but several things couldn’t be saved and were also discarded. I spent a solid week on board JO BETH cleaning and scrubbing every interior surface I could reach. We used a water/vinegar solution to clean, followed by an essential oil blend in an atomizer to spray everything after it was cleaned. The boat held the rich and pleasant aromas of clove, cinnamon, and lemon for quite some time afterwards.

Meanwhile, boat work began at a fast and focused pace – at least compared to most of our other boatyard experiences. Lisa and I were pleasantly surprised when we saw that by the afternoon of the same day JO BETH was hauled, the bottom was washed, cleaned, and scraped, and the waterline fully taped and ready for paint. The painting crew were busy sanding the old paint and by the next morning, the first coat of marine antifouling paint was going on. Later that same morning, the rudder, propeller shaft and propeller shaft bearing were removed. By the afternoon, the propeller shaft and shaft coupling were cleaned and examined for any issues, with several being found. Orders were placed for replacement components. The mechanic began doing the complete engine service and the electrician began his projects. By the start of the following week, the paint contractors had finished almost all of the bottom painting and had also repaired Lisa’s Beaufort, NC un-docking mishap on the aft port quarter topsides. Click here to read more about the work we had done while at Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works.

During our time in Fernandina Beach, Lisa rented a car and drove to Atlanta for her COVID postponed 40th high school reunion. She took a few days to visit friends while there, and returned early the next week with a raging sinus infection. Fortunately, our annual check-ups were already scheduled for the same week she returned. I was lucky and managed to avoid it completely.

The day after JO BETH’s launch, having been on the hard for six weeks, we began the process of moving back aboard. I took the opportunity to reorganize how most of our gear and equipment was stowed. We also took the opportunity to rid ourselves of clothes we weren’t using and to continue the move away from cotton fabrics to quick dry and wool blend fabrics. More than a few loads of clothes, etc., went back to our storage locker and to the local charity shops. The boat also received a very serious bath and scrub on her house and decks, courtesy of Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works.

I spent some time monitoring the new and old solar panel power output and getting to know our new Iridium Satellite communications system. The Iridium system allows us to receive weather updates anywhere in the world via a satellite internet connection, as well as make and receive phone calls and send and receive plain text email and text messages. It’s pretty impressive, and while it’s required a steep climb on the learning curve, it’s well worth it.

We were also surprised to see our friends Gail and Tim from the yacht WHODOGGI appear at the Tiger Point service dock. They had been in the anchorage at Fernandina Beach with generator troubles. The boat yard electrician soon had them up and running and on their way. We were able to get away for dinner together during their stay.

It took several days for us to be back on board fully, but finally we were thanks to the help of Rusty and Phyllis. On May 17, we slipped away from Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works and headed for the East River on the southern end of Georgia’s Cumberland Island. We were anchored by mid-afternoon. We planned to stay for several days, to rest and to wait for a fair wind to sail towards Beaufort, NC, some 400 miles to the northeast. However, as they often don’t, plans didn’t work out.

During our medical check-ups, our doctor made a slight change to one of my medications. Within a week or so, I began experiencing some rather unpleasant digestive side effects, though I didn’t immediately link it to the medication change. Instead, I believed it was a reaction to the addition of some foods containing Stevia as a sweetener. Soon after we left the boatyard, insomnia began to kick in. I knew then, it wasn’t likely Stevia causing the issues. I placed a call the doctor’s office and he suggested I come in for a follow-up. I also conducted an experiment of my own; I stopped taking the new medication and reverted to the original prescription. Within a couple of days, the digestive troubles were gone, though sleep was slow in coming. After a week or so, I went back to the new prescription and very quickly, was experiencing problems again. Lisa and I upped anchor and headed to Brunswick, GA and our home base of Brunswick Landing Marina. My prescription was changed and within just a few days, all was well again.

*Beach Day - we had the entire stretch of beach on Cumberland Island to ourselves*

Our last few days at Cumberland Island weren’t without some fun and excitement. Lisa and I went to the beach one afternoon, even taking a swim in the still cool Atlantic waters. We took ice-cold showers ashore at one of the campgrounds and wandered the island a bit. Later that week, the anchorage began to fill up as a weather system was approaching, bringing rain squalls and strong northerly winds. We rigged JO BETH accordingly, fitting a rain awning over our forward hatch. The awning allows us to leave the hatch open, even during rain, providing us with much needed ventilation. We only got a little bit of rain, but the winds were strong and straight from the north. The East River lies in a north-south orientation, and when the wind is in opposition to the tidal flow, the river can become quite choppy and rough. We are usually aware of the tidal cycles wherever we are and make it a point to check conditions when the tide changes. When these changes happen in the middle of the night, it’s usually me who does the checking.

*We are LOVING our full cockpit enclosure*

During one of the brief rain squalls, a corner of our rain awning came loose and was flapping about in the breeze. It was just after midnight, and after re-tying the awning in a cold and pelting rain, I was wide awake. I made a quick visual check of things, noting the positions of other boats around us, and checked our reference bearings. Satisfied all was well, I ducked into the cabin, put on a dry shirt, grabbed my book and went back into the shelter of the cockpit enclosure. After an hour or so, I was dozing off and ready to crawl back into the warm bed. I looked around again, noting the tide had changed fully and checking how boats close to us were doing. That’s when I noticed the sailboat anchored closest to us was dragging her anchor.

A boat will ‘drag’ it’s anchor when the anchor breaks out of the bottom. Anchors are designed to bury into and ‘grip’ the seabed, be it sandy, muddy, clay, rocky, and so on. While weight does play a factor, how well an anchor holds depends on its ‘set,’ or how well dug into the bottom it is. The boat was a 45’ Beneteau sailboat, a sleek and relatively light displacement cruising sailboat. It had been anchored to our south for two days or so, but this particular tidal change and the increased winds proved too much for the set on her anchor. Now sideways to the opposing wind and tide, she drifted east, directly towards the muddy beach and northern end of the Sea Camp Docks, while her crew was sleeping quite soundly below decks.

I yelled to Lisa to wake her up and make her aware of what was happening. I grabbed a portable horn and began sounding the international danger signal of five rapid blasts. Nothing. I repeated the signal again; still nothing. I tried hailing them on the VHF radio, getting no reply. By now, she was less than a hundred feet behind us and about two hundred feet from the dock when her anchor dug itself in again. She came to a hard stop less than seventy-five feet from our stern. Wide awake once again, I picked up my book and settled down with a big sigh. As I needed to monitor our swinging circle, I didn’t get any sleep that night.

Shortly after dawn, I noticed some stirrings aboard the Beneteau. The winds had eased considerably, and the she was no longer behind us, but sat quietly off to our port quarter, but still close. A man’s head popped out of the hatch and he stepped into the cockpit. He took a quick look around and ducked down to the hatch again. A woman stepped into the cockpit, and after a quick conversation, they came to realize what had happened, the woman pointing out their prior position. Soon after, they weighed anchor and moved a half mile north in the river and re-anchored.

We left for Brunswick, GA the following morning, planning a week there. After the follow-up visit with the doctor, we generally took things easy. We topped up our provisions, including fuel and water, and pumped out the waste holding tank. We visited with friends, collected mail, and dined at a few favorite spots. Our friends Jesus and Mia introduced us to brioche donuts and Lisa was able to get caught up with her work.

On Saturday, May 28, we had a good weather window to leave Brunswick, GA and sail to Beaufort, NC. We were also watching the season’s first tropical system, then known as PTC (Potential Tropical Storm) Alex which had just entered the Gulf of Mexico after crossing Central America from the Pacific. Alex wasn’t a threat to us directly, but we needed to stay aware of his whereabouts and development. We left Brunswick Landing Marina at about noon, with the turning of the high tide, so we would have a boost out of the rivers and sounds into the ocean. By two in the afternoon, we exited the long St. Simons Bar Channel and set sail on a rolling swell some ten miles off the north end of St. Simons, making our way north. The day was sunny and the swell soon settled as a brisk south easterly breeze pushed us along at five or six knots.

*Anchored cargos ships off of Savannah, GA*

By midnight, the wind had slacked a good bit and we had Savannah on our port beam, her lights a distant glow just over the horizon. We were now sailing through the main anchorage area for the port of Savannah, and were surrounded by no less than two dozen anchored steel behemoths, each waiting their turn to enter the port to discharge and load cargo. I’m sure we had the attention of all the night watches as we slowly made our way through the maze of ships at three or four knots. It was actually a beautiful night, the lights of the anchored ships mimicking the stars overhead.

*Sunset at sea - passing Winyah Bay, SC*

By dawn, we were passing the South Carolina coast between Beaufort and Charleston, and were past Charleston by early afternoon. The winds filled in again soon thereafter and we roared past Winyah Bay, SC and into our second night at sea. By now, PTC Alex was Tropical Storm Alex and seemed to have a decent chance of impacting our weather within the next few days. After discussing the situation, Lisa and I decided to alter our course to the west-northwest and make for a landfall at Cape Fear, NC. At noon the next day, we entered the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway under motor power, going to Wrightsville Beach. By evening twilight, we were anchored in Banks Channel at Wrightsville Beach, NC.

*Back in the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway - Cape Fear River, Southport, NC*

It was a pleasant surprise to see two boats we knew in the Banks Channel anchorage; Herby and Maddie aboard the yacht WISDOM and Frank and Jessica aboard their yacht DESIRE. Technically speaking, we knew Herby and Maddie only through our interactions on our respective Instagram pages, and through some text message and telephone exchanges, but it was a real pleasure to finally meet in person. We knew Frank and Jessica from last year’s sailing season as our tracks crisscrossed multiple times between Georgia and North Carolina. Timing didn’t work out with them to spend much time together, unfortunately. We were able to enjoy dinner with Herby and Maddy aboard JO BETH. We also saw Gail and Tim on WHODOGGI again while they were in Wrightsville Beach.

(Check out WISDOM’s and DESIRE’s YouTube Channels! Just click on their boat names.)

*banks Channel, Wrightsville Beach, NC -* ***DESIRE*** *is the closest boat to us*

We spent three nights in Banks Channel, waiting to see what if anything Tropical Storm Alex would produce. Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing; unfortunately, the reason Alex wasn’t a bother was because of an approaching cold front which was forecast to produce nasty conditions over the North Carolina coast for a couple of days. Friends living in Wilmington, NC, Reuel and Pam, offered us the use of a vacant slip in Carolina Beach, some 12 miles south of Wrightsville Beach, as shelter. We needed to provision and fill the water tanks, and JO BETH needed a good bath. We needed a good bath as well, and to do laundry. So, we turned our bows into the Waterway and headed south, backtracking a few miles. Reuel was a great host and opened their home to us. Pam was in Egypt on a Red Sea Scuba expedition. (Pam is a fantastic photographer, above and below the water – take a look at her work here.)

We also found out a friend from Marathon, FL, Tim, was moored in the Carolina Beach Harbor. We had met Tim and Christine in Marathon during our time in the Florida Keys. Tim was by himself aboard SERENITY as Christine was away dealing with her mom’s estate following her mom’s passing a few months prior. Tim, Lisa, and I all met at our mutual friends Ron and Fran’s home, whom we also met in the Keys, in Carolina Beach for dinner and some of Ron’s excellent home-brewed beer.

After a few days, the forecasted bad weather, which had far more bark than bite, had passed and we once again struck out north in the Waterway. We had intended to move from the Waterway into the Atlantic through the Masonboro Inlet and sail to Beaufort, NC to wait for weather to sail on north, around Cape Hatteras and to Norfolk, VA. But, the long-term weather forecast was not favorable for getting around Hatteras and sailing north. While the weather was favorable to get to Hatteras, the issue was that once there and around the Cape, the weather forecasts were anything but ideal. This pattern had persisted for more than a week, and in the interest of continuing north, Lisa and I put aside our plans for rounding Cape Hatteras offshore and decided to continue sailing north through North Carolina’s famous and wide Sounds – The Pamlico and The Albermarle.

There was another reason to not sail offshore to Beaufort, the weather aside: during the dates we were planning to go, a gigantic billfish tournament hosted in Morehead City, NC was slated to start. The Big Rock Tournament attracts well over 2,000 fishing boats, running in and out of the Beaufort Inlet at all hours and in all conditions, in a mad dash to catch the biggest fish and win a literal boatload of prize money. Beaufort Inlet can be rough at the best of times; the wakes from dozens of large sportfishing boats could make it worse and potentially dangerous if the wind and tide were not in agreement.

Moving north on the Waterway, we soon passed through Wrightsville Beach again, but our forward progress slowed when we came to the Figure Eight Island Swing Bridge five or so miles north. We’d been hearing broadcasts on the VHF radio from the Coast Guard that the bridge was inoperative and closed until further notice. We continued onward and when the bridge came into view, we saw three sailboats anchored close by. We hailed the bridge tender and he confirmed the bridge was indeed inoperative but crews were making repairs. We decided to turn out of the channel to anchor with the other boats and wait; our only other option was to turn back south to Wrightsville Beach. Almost immediately, we ran aground. The bottom rapidly rose from a depth of 12 feet to 5 feet in a matter of seconds. Fortunately, the bottom there is very soft mud and we were able to back off of the ground and get anchored in deeper water out of the channel.

*Figure Eight Island Swing Bridge, back in service*

After about an hour, the bridge tender announced via VHF radio the bridge was once again operational. A couple more boats had also anchored to wait, and suddenly, all of us were weighing anchor to get underway. Soon we were through and in a race with the building afternoon thunderstorms. We were heading towards an anchorage known as Mile Hammock Bay, which sits right in the middle of the huge United States Marine Corps Base, Camp Lejeune and just about halfway between Wrightsville Beach and Morehead City/Beaufort. We arrived there in a light rain shower, just as daylight was fading. It had been a long day. We couldn’t go ashore on the military base, and there was nowhere to go if we did. Once the anchor was set, Lisa and I poured ourselves a glass of wine and had a light supper before collapsing in sleep. Tomorrow was set to be another long day continuing north on the Waterway. Also, there were what appeared to be several drones hovering high over the anchorage throughout most of the night – the night watch, I suppose.

*Our anchorage at Mile Hammock Bay - Camp Lejeune, NC*

Soon after sunrise, we were underway again beneath a gray and overcast sky. We passed through the next drawbridge at Onslow Beach, NC and continued on into the wide yet shallow waters of Bouge Sound. By early afternoon we were passing through the busy port of Morehead City and in the thick of the Big Rock Fishing tournament. Gigantic sport fisherman growled all about the upper Bouge Sound waters, even following us north through the Waterway beyond the harbor area. We had planned a stop at Jarret Bay Marina north of Morehead City for fuel. While in Carolina Beach, we had emptied all of our surplus fuel from our deck stored jugs into the main tank. Now, we were down to about half a tank with no reserves. That’s plenty of fuel to get us to Oriental, but once beyond there, fueling opportunities would be few and far between. The Waterway through this stretch of North Carolina is essentially a canal, and sailing is not a reasonable option. We would be moving solely under motor power for several more miles.

I called Jarret Bay Boat Marina on the radio to arrange our taking on fuel and was basically laughed off the water by the dockmaster. “Cap’n” he calmly said, “with this tournament going on, we are only fueling by appointment. Do you have an appointment? Over.” Of course we had no appointment. I looked at the waterway to our south, to the four massive fishing boats following us. There was already one seventy footer fueling and another one in front of us waiting to go in. We would buy perhaps thirty or forty gallons of diesel at the most; the monster fishing boats would by at least one or two thousand gallons each. “No, we don’t have an appointment,” I answered. “We’ll carry on north. Over.” There was no reply. We turned around in the Waterway channel and throttled the engine ahead.

We soon entered the wide and choppy waters of the Neuse River as a dark line of squall clouds gathered around and streamed overhead. We were doused by a fast moving rain squall rain and watched as the menacing, bulging line of clouds moved away to the east, lightning streaking from cloud to ground followed by sharp claps of thunder. A moderate northwest breeze filled in behind the squall. Soon we passed through the breakwater into Oriental’s inner harbor. With the anchor set, we watched a spectacular sunset and enjoyed a quiet dinner.

*We enjoyed a lovely sunset once anchored in Oriental’s Inner Harbor*

The next morning, we weighed anchor and went into the inner harbor basin to the Oriental Marina and Inn fuel docks. I filled our deck stored fuel jugs and topped off our main tank with bright red diesel fuel while Lisa went across the street for coffee and croissants from The Bean Coffee Shop. Soon we were outbound from the harbor and back into the Neuse River. A stiff east-northeasterly breeze had rapidly developed and the waters of the river had built into a squared steep and angry chop. We were repeatedly slamming into three foot walls of water which essentially brought us to a standstill; then we would start moving forward again before the next wave stopped us just moments later. We were going nowhere fast and the ride was quite wet and miserable with spray flying everywhere. We briefly discussed changing course and crossing the Neuse to the South River on the Neuse’s southern shore, a popular and well sheltered anchorage. In fact, as we were to learn later in the day, Christine had rejoined Tim aboard SERENITY and they were anchored there. However, the river entrance lay to the east of Oriental; getting there would require us pounding into the steep and short waves for hours on end. We turned around, our collective tails tucked away and headed back to Oriental.

The City of Oriental provides two free docks, available to cruising yachts and boaters for up to 48 hours at no charge. There are no services there, such as water, electricity, etc., but the docks are well sheltered and secure. They had been available when left the fuel dock an hour earlier. Within an hour, we were dockside.

***JO BETH*** *on her last night* *at the Oriental Town (Free) Dock*

Truthfully, we were in need of a good rest. It was Friday, and we stayed there until Sunday morning. For a very reasonable fee, $6/per person, the Oriental Marina and Inn provided us with 24 hour shower and laundry access. They even provided towels and soap/shampoo with the showers! Also, The Bean Coffee Shop, with great WiFi, is directly across the street, so we were able to get some work done. We texted with Tim aboard SERENITY and they had decided to stay anchored in South River to wait out the weather. We made plans to sail to the Outer Banks and Ocracoke Island, across Pamlico Sound, as soon as the weather abated.

JO BETH’s Haulout, 2022 - Fernandina Beach, Florida

March 28, 2022

Finally, after nearly four months at a standstill, we were able to slip the docklines and get underway once again. Hilton Head Island and Skull Creek Marina slowly faded in our wake, under gray and overcast skies and a light, shifting breeze. As we motored in a generally easterly direction through Port Royal Sound, toward the wide expanses of the North Atlantic Ocean, the skies cleared. Once we passed the sea buoy marking the entrance to Port Royal Sound, we set the mainsail and genoa, (aka ‘headsail’), shut down the diesel motor, and adjusted our course south-southwest towards the St. Marys Entrance Channel on the Florida-Georgia State Line.

Our work in Hilton Head began to wind down in middle February. JO BETH’s new stainless steel arch and top frame were completed by the end of January, and the canvas work was completed during the last week of February. We enjoyed sundowners during a couple of evenings with our dock neighbor Jerry aboard his Lord Nelson Victory Tug-Trawler, made a last provisioning run and refilled an empty propane tank. We had paid the dock lease at Skull Creek Marina through the end of February. However, a brief weather-window to sail south would be open from Saturday morning, the 26th of February, through the following Sunday evening before it closed abruptly with the passing of another cold front. The decision was made to leave while the weather was in our favor, with favorable northerly winds to push us south.

We sailed through a few anchored cargo ships awaiting entry to the port of Savannah, altering course to avoid the container ship MATHILDE SCHULTE after a brief radio conversation with her harbor pilot. Back on our course, we galloped along at an average of six knots on a broad reach, the point of sail where the wind is blowing from one of the quarters aft of the boat. The swell was gentle, perhaps no more than three to five feet, and JO BETH moved effortlessly through the sea. The motion was so easy, it was possible to walk through the cabin without having to hold on to anything. As we were sailing a straight line course to St. Marys, or more accurately, a straight line course from the Port Royal Sound sea buoy to the St. Marys sea buoy, the Georgia coast soon receded over the horizon and faded from view. The course would take us away from the shallow areas of coastline for which Georgia is notorious. At our furthest point off the coast, we would be approximately 25 miles east of St. Catherines Island, but still in only 50-60 feet of water!

*Anchored Cargo Ship, Awaiting Entry to the Port of Savannah*

As day collapsed into night, we enjoyed hot bowls of chicken and rice soup, cozy in our enclosed cockpit. Already, the cockpit enclosure was proving it’s worth, but later in the night a true test of the enclosure would be imposed on us. With the setting of the sun, our lovely wind began to fade; by eight o’clock, I headed below for a sleep and Lisa took the first watch.

I was awakened around eleven o’clock by the sound of Lisa starting the engine. JO BETH’s motion was decidedly more ‘rolly,’ and I became aware I was lolling gently from side to side in my bunk. I got up and went to the companionway ladder to check on things. The wind was down considerably, now more directly astern. The sails were slatting from side to side in the swell, and our speed was down by about half. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, as our position was just then about 10 miles north-northeast of the St. Simons Channel.

The reduced speed would allow us to time our arrival at St. Marys at dawn. We much prefer not to enter harbors, even familiar ones, in the dark if we don’t have to. By now, it was pretty much time for me to come on watch. While Lisa stayed on the helm, I put on my safety harness and ventured out on deck to rig a preventer on the boom. When the wind is coming directly from astern, the mainsail is pushed far out to either side to catch it. However, on a sloppy swell the boat rolls and the mainsail alternately fills with winds and then spills it. If the wind ‘backs’ onto the sail, the result is known as a jibe. (Or, ‘gybe.’) A controlled jibe is manageable and can be done safely; an uncontrolled jibe, however, can be dangerous. The preventer line is secured to a strong point on the deck and then ran through a block back to the boom to ‘prevent,’ or at least minimize, the chances of an accidental jibe. With the preventer set, we furled the headsail and continued south under mainsail and motor. Lisa went below to sleep and I settled in for my watch.

While listening to morning weather briefings in preparation for the trip, I became increasingly aware that chances were good we would be encountering fog as we approached the northeast Florida coast. In one of my routine scans of our surroundings, I suddenly realized I couldn’t see very much. No stars, no dim lights ashore (we were now closing in on the coast), nothing. After a time, we would move into an area of much improved visibility. I could see the St. Simons Channel sea buoy as we passed a mile east of it before the fog closed in once more. We had passed within a couple of miles of the Grays Reef Marina Sanctuary buoy, just a few miles northeast of the St. Simons buoy and never saw it’s flashing yellow light. What was phenomenal were the patches of brilliant phosphorescence that would flash in the crests of the waves and in our wake. It reminded me of photographs of lightning in the cloud tops viewed from the International Space Station. I tried to photograph and video it with my cameras, but only succeeded in capturing a gray-black void.

Soon the fog was packed in even more tightly around us. Our navigation lights cast an eerie glow, encapsulating us inside a damp red-green bubble. The bright spot in all of this was the enclosure. It was wonderful. Inside, I stayed warm and dry, watching our progress on the chartplotter screen and the flashing phosphorescence outside. It was fantastic.

No other vessels were showing on our AIS display save a car carrier well away to our southeast. With fog now closed in, I powered up our Radar system and went to wake Lisa for her watch. We typically don’t use the Radar in good conditions, relying instead on the AIS system. Once she was up and ready, we activated the VHF radio automatic fog horn function which sounds a pre-programmed signal through a speaker mounted high on the mast. As we were now less than 20 miles away from the St. Marys Entrance, an anchored cargo vessel was showing on both radar and AIS. After briefing Lisa, I retreated below for a bit of sleep.

*A Calm Sea and Fog on the Approach to the St. Marys Channel Entrance*

After what seemed just a few minutes, Lisa shook me awake. “We’re about a mile from the outer marks of the channel. The fog is bad. We passed just under a mile from the anchored cargo ship and I never saw it or heard any fog signals.” She retreated back to the cockpit.

I sat up and swung my legs out. Once dressed, I stepped out into the cockpit and gazed at the gray world around us. The seas had calmed considerably and were nearly flat.

“We’re in the channel now,” Lisa said, “and I’ve made our course change to go in. We’ve slowed down - a lot. We have the outgoing tide against us. Oh, and there’s two dredges working in the channel.”

Dredges in the channel? Great. I looked down and saw on the chartplotter screen our speed was 1.8 knots. The two AIS signatures of the dredges were also there, though one was outside of the channel to the south and anchored. The one dredge in the channel, the BAYPORT, was underway and appeared to be actively dredging. We were about a mile and a half apart.

I hailed BAYPORT on the VHF radio and was promptly answered. We switched to a working channel. “BAYPORT, this is the sailboat JO BETH, inbound St. Marys Channel, over.”

“Good morning cap’n, I see you on Radar and AIS. I’m a hopper dredge and moving all over the place. Call me when you’re about a half mile from me and we’ll make a plan, over.”

“Good copy, BAYPORT, will do. JO BETH is clear channel one-eight, standing by channel one-six. Out.”

“Maybe we should do a Security call on channel 16?” Lisa suggested.

I picked up the radio microphone and keyed it. “Securitay, securitay, securitay, this is the sailing vessel JO BETH, inbound St. Marys Entrance from sea. All concerned traffic, please contact sailing vessel JO BETH VHF channel 16. Out.” For the record, no other vessels contacted us. We passed within yards of the channel buoys and never saw them, though we did hear the ones fitted with bells and whistles. To our astonishment, local sportfisherman in small center-console boats began zooming past us in the channel, blasting through the blinding fog to catch fish offshore. Lisa and I shook our heads.

When we were a half mile from BAYPORT, I called the dredge and made arrangements to pass just astern of them as they crossed in front of us perpendicular to the channel. Now, just a few yards from them, we still had no visual contact. Suddenly, we could hear the dull roar of large diesel generators and pumps, and then the deep blast of a ship’s fog signal. A pinpoint of light emerged from the gloom and there in the gloom, perhaps a hundred feet from our starboard side, loomed the stern of BAYPORT. We were so close, in fact, we felt her prop wash nudging us a bit to the south. Just as we were clearing her stern her captain called on the radio, saying, “JO BETH, I don’t see you.” I quickly replied that we had just passed directly astern of them and were clear.

Once past, BAYPORT was quickly absorbed into the void. When we were a quarter mile west of her position, we could no longer hear her machinery or her fog horn. Chances were quite good that she never heard ours, even when we passed just a few feet directly behind her.

I want to be clear that had we not had total confidence in our navigation and our instruments, we would have stood far offshore and waited for better conditions before attempting to enter the harbor. Or, we would have continued sailing. It was a sobering reminder of how things can change and of how we need to be vigilant and adaptable to the conditions we encounter, whatever they may be.

*Well Inside the Channel, the Fog Begins to Lift*

We were coming to Fernandina Beach to haul JO BETH from the water for much needed maintenance and repairs. Tiger Point Marina and Boat Works couldn’t haul us until March 9. This gave us a little more than a week to rest and relax. Our plan was to head for an anchorage in the East River on the southwest side of Georgia’s Cumberland Island and spend a few days there before possibly moving to another spot. Once we were in Cumberland Sound, the fog gradually began to lift away and, by the time we were anchored just northwest of Sea Camp Dock, the skies were blue and the sun shining. We notified our float plan contacts we had arrived safely and were anchored. Another cold front was approaching and we had rainy, squally weather for Sunday night and all of Monday. By Tuesday fair weather returned, and we enjoyed our quiet time immensely. Boats came and went in the anchorage, and the ferries from St. Marys brought campers and day trippers to the island and guests to the luxurious Greyfield Inn. Cumberland Island is a National Seashore, and is an amazing place.

*Our Beautiful Anchorage at Cumberland Island, Georgia*

On Friday, our longtime friends Rusty and Phyllis, and Rusty’s cousin Steve and his wife Cindy, arrived on ANDIAMUS, Rusty’s Selene 53 trawler yacht. Another cold front was passing over, and winds were brisk, making dinghy trips to visit a wet and cold prospect. And, we were fogged in yet again! We decided to wait until Saturday, when blue skies returned once again. We really enjoyed our visit and time aboard ANDIAMO, and it was great to see our friends. We hadn’t seen Steve and Cindy in over 35 years – since our wedding! We went ashore on Cumberland and walked the beaches, and even had a private tour of the Greyfield Inn and property by one of the caretakers. The Inn occupies the most recent Carnegie Family home on Cumberland Island, which was owned it its entirety by the Carnegie’s until the early 1970’s when much of the families holdings were donated for preservation and the formation of the present day National Seashore. Greyfield Inn and Stafford Plantation are managed by many direct descendants of the family, some of whom still reside on the island. Plum Orchard, another Carnegie home, is managed by the National Park Service.

We would be staying at Rusty and Phyllis’s house while work aboard JO BETH was underway. We are very grateful for their hospitality and generosity as they provided us with shelter, laundry facilities, transport, and so much more!

As our day approached to be at the boat yard, we began readying to get underway. After such a peaceful and enjoyable time at Cumberland Island, we were a bit stymied by the preparations to move again, even though the trip was less than five miles. It was a gray and cloudy day but, fortunately, without fog. Soon we were secured at the boatyard service dock and moving things we needed off of the boat. The next morning JO BETH was hauled from the water and secured in the yard with her bottom pressure washed and scraped.

Lisa and I have a list of projects we want to complete while hauled, and the boatyard is also doing certain tasks at our request:

· Sanding and repainting the bottom with antifouling paint

· Repairing damage to the paint on the hull topsides

· Replacing the propeller shaft bearings and seals

· Complete diesel engine service/inspections

· Installation of an Iridium satellite communications system

· Installation of a cellular signal booster system

· Re-installation and expansion of our solar array (the solar panels were removed for the new top installation)

We’re looking forward to all of these jobs being completed, and while we’re not thrilled with the learning curve new gear aboard brings, life on board will be more comfortable and safer. I’m especially looking forward to having our solar system back up and running. While anchored at Cumberland Island, we had to run the engine for a few hours at least every other day to keep our batteries in good shape.

*The Greyfield Inn at Cumberland Island*

While the yard is working on those things, we’ve been doing a deep clean of the interior lockers removing mold and mildew caused by excessive condensation over the winter in Hilton Head. This means pulling everything out of the lockers and cleaning the locker space as well as the items within the locker. This has been a great exercise in culling unused and unneeded gear and other items from the boat, freeing up valuable storage space. We’re also reorganizing many of our equipment manuals into digital form and making some modifications to other components.

Once the work here is done, what’s next? First, we’re planning a brief stop in Brunswick, GA to address annual necessities: doctor’s check-ups and physicals; dental cleanings, and the like. After that, we’re making another run for New England for the summer months, with the goal of spending July in Maine, including attending an informal gathering of other Pacific Seacraft owners. After that, the path diverges. We will see.

We’ll leave you with a couple of shots of JO BETH in the boatyard. Until next time!

*Our New Cockpit Enclosure - a Game Changer*

Hilton Head Island, SC - Maintenance, Repairs, and Winter!

January 24, 2022

We’ve been in the resort community of Hilton Head Island, along South Carolina’s southern coast since middle November. With me injuring my shoulder while in Washington, North Carolina, (you can see my post about that here), our progress north for the summer of 2021 was completely stopped.

*Winter Has Arrived on Hilton head Island!!*

Originally, Lisa and I planned to get the boat from Washington, NC to Morehead City, NC, from where Lisa, along with our friends Jesus and Mia Herrero, would continue with the boat to Hilton Head. Jesus and Mia decided they would prefer to come to Washington and make the trip from there. For them, it would be sailing in a part of the world they’d not visited, and it would give them some time to get ‘acquainted’ with the boat before sailing into the Atlantic with her. So on a gray and cool Tuesday morning in early November, I watched from the dock as the boat left Washington, NC without me, to begin the journey south to Hilton Head. As I was still nursing my bum shoulder, I drove Jesus and Mia’s car, shadowing their progress. I walked to the Mulberry for one last coffee. On November 13, 2021, after nearly two weeks of slow progress due to weather JO BETH was secured at Safe Harbor Skull Creek Marina, on the northern end of Hilton Head Island.

*Patterning and Fitting the Mock-Up for the Arch and Top*

The stop in Hilton Head had been planned for some time. We have been wanting to add a full-cockpit canvas enclosure and stainless steel arch to the boat. We knew of an excellent canvas shop in Hilton Head, and I had worked with a shop in the past, also on Hilton Head, that I knew could build the arch and top the way we wanted to design it. We had spent a lot of time in the past explaining the way we wanted the arch and top to work to other shops, and were constantly told it wasn’t doable. After meeting with the metal shop and canvas maker, and putting designs to paper, we had a workable plan in mind.

Lisa and Micah, Barefoot Sail Loft and Canvas, Discussing Design Details for the Canvas Cockpit Enclosure

The arch and top structure will allow us to increase our solar panel real estate, giving us more time ‘off-grid’ to sail and explore, while the canvas enclosure will add an enormous level of comfort, as well as safety, to the boat particularly when sailing in poor weather conditions. Since stopping here, however, the work has been slow - very slow, actually - and there simply hasn’t been much going on.

We have been able to reconnect with some old friends and make new ones, hanging out with John and Lizzy from the yacht QUETZAL, and meeting Tom and Nancy from the yacht NANCY MARIE with their two dogs, Bella and Violet. I even began working part-time once again at the local West Marine store and have been able to use the time to take care of a lot of small maintenance projects. One bit of good news is I’m essentially 99.9% recovered from my shoulder injury; the lingering issue being an area of minor numbness between the thumb and index finger on my left hand. The other bit of good news is work on the enclosure and arch is now, finally, jumping into high-gear.

So, what’s in store for us next? Well, a bit more work. When we leave Hilton Head, we’ll sail south to Fernandina Beach, Florida where JO BETH will be hauled from the water at Tiger Point Boat Yard. While out, her bottom anti-fouling paint will be renewed, and her underwater machinery bits, the propeller, propeller shaft and shaft seal, rudder, etc., will be inspected. We’ll also be completing electrical work associated with the new arch installation, which will include relocating our GPS and satellite radio antennas to the arch, and the installation of a cell phone signal booster system and satellite communications system which will allow us to receive weather forecasts and send text messages and plain text emails from anywhere in the world. We’ll also complete a full engine service and repair some damage to the paint on the hull sides from an unfortunate bump with a barnacle and oyster-encrusted piling in Beaufort, NC.

*Enjoy Drinkable Art at the Driftwood Eatery Coffee Bar, Sfae Harbor Skull Creek Marina*

Of course, there are boat yards in the Hilton Head/Beaufort, SC areas, as well as Savannah, where we can do the out of water work. The main reason we’re doing the work in Fernandina Beach is we have friends there who have offered us accommodation for the entire time JO BETH is hauled. The yard is a reasonable walk from their home, as is the beach. The vast majority of boat repair yards frown on owners staying aboard while the boat is hauled. That, and it’s not a comfortable or pleasant existence for us. Even the cleanest of boat yards are dirty and grimy. Lisa and I are hopeful, and very optimistic, that this spring sailing season will be the time we can truly get underway for our long sought after adventures.

Washington, North Carolina

October 22, 2021

Washington, NC is a small town situated on the banks of the Pamlico River in North Carolina’s Inner Banks. Founded in 1776 and named for George Washington, it is often known as “Original Washington,” or “Little Washington.” It is a resilient place, having suffered through the War between the States when it was occupied by Union soldiers and then burned as they retreated, to hurricanes, floods, epidemics of disease, and other natural disasters. Now, it is a thriving and wonderfully friendly community, drawing on its history and role in coastal Carolina culture.

*Washington, North carolina’s Lovely Waterfront Walk*

It is also the home of Pacific Seacraft, JO BETH’s builder. The company was founded 1975 and operated in California until 2007, when it was purchased and relocated to Washington, NC by Steve Brodie, a marine archeologist. Pacific Seacraft continues to produce ocean voyaging yachts and build custom designs, as well as refit older boats. We stopped here specifically for them to ‘rehab’ JO BETH’s aging icebox insulation, as well as inspect and evaluate a couple of other things on which we wanted the builder’s opinion.

We had been to Washington by car a handful of times during JO BETH’s refit to pick up materials and parts unique to the boat. This trip however, was our first time visiting by boat. After a trip under power west on the Pamlico, we arrived at the town waterfront docks and were greeted by city dockmaster, Rick. Rick is a congenial and knowledgeable dockmaster and sailor, and knows the waters of North Carolina’s inner and outer banks like the back of his hand. After assisting us with lines and getting JO BETH secured, he gave us the standard marina information packet and made certain we knew where the best restaurants, ice cream shops, etc., were located. We placed a call to Steve at Pacific Seacraft and let him know we had arrived and were secured. We also met Kate, the owner of GREEN DOLPHIN, a Pacific Seacraft 31 also docked at the waterfront, just finishing a refit.

In the late afternoon, Steve dropped by the boat to say hello and to take a quick look over the list of tasks. Steve, Lisa, and I were able to quickly determine which items needed to be addressed, and which were good as they were, with no repairs or actions needed. We developed a plan to address the icebox insulation and to fix an issue with an unsupported section of the cabin sole, or floor. Steve promised Raul, the operations manager and Alex, a carpenter would be aboard the following morning to get things underway. Lisa and I grabbed showers and headed to the newest restaurant in town, at least for us, The Mulberry House and Brewery. The Mulberry has now become a favorite haunt of mine!

*JO BETH’s Main Saloon with the Stove/Oven Removed for the Icebox Insulation Repair*

As expected Raul and Alex arrived the following morning. Raul examined the cabin sole hatch which covers the fuel tank, and the sagging section of the sole just forward of the hatch opening. JO BETH’s original owner had made some modifications to the interior, resulting in a section of the sole lacking sufficient support for the weight of additional structures. We developed a method of repair, and Raul returned to the factory with the hatch in hand. Alex and I both began to tackle the icebox insulation repair. In order to do this, it was necessary to remove some of the drawers and bins around the icebox, as well as the stove and oven. Fortunately, we didn’t have to empty or shut down the refrigerator/freezer. Once the area was cleared, Alex began to methodically sound the sides of the top sections of the icebox for voids; where there is a void, the sound will be dull ‘thud’ when tapped, indicated the insulation material in that area is no longer viable. Where the insulation is still in place, the sound when tapped will be ‘solid’, like tapping a table top. The sounding process takes some time, and located a surprising number of voids, especially along the forward side of the icebox. Alex marked the areas with a pencil and planned to begin injected expanding foam into the void areas the next morning. With the stove out of the way, Lisa and I spent the remainder of that afternoon degreasing the areas of the cabin we couldn’t access along the sides and back of the oven. The decades of gunk cleaned up surprisingly well. We also had a ‘kickplate’ fitted beneath the oven removed and modified with a hinge, so the space could be used for storage and more easily cleaned.

*The Galley With the Stove Removed; the Refer/Freezer (Icebox) is to the Left*

Raul returned that same afternoon and fitted the repaired cabin sole hatch which solved the problem of the sagging section of the cabin sole, but inadvertently created another minor issue…more on that in a bit.

Alex arrived in the morning, expanding foam in hand. He carefully drilled the areas he had marked the previous day, taking great care to not puncture the liner of the icebox. Once the drilled areas were open and cleaned, he began the slow and methodical process of introducing the foam. This the one job I didn’t want to tackle. The builders at Pacific Seacraft have developed and refined the method of repair. Expanding foam can do serious damage if not handled properly. Working carefully to be sure the foam was distributing as evenly as possible, we gave it some time to cure and then resounded the areas, getting solid returns all around. We also had them examine the icebox lid, which we felt was not original to the boat. It has never fit well, and we believe it is how a good bit of the cold air escapes. We’ll be replacing the gasket with a different type over the holidays while in Hilton Head Island, SC. In the meantime, the insulation rehab appears to be working as the temperature of the refrigerator and freezer has stabilized significantly. More importantly, we don’t seem to be freezing produce in the refrigerator section!

We had planned to be in Washington for four days. Pacific Seacraft finished our project on Thursday afternoon, so after a quick shower, Lisa and I went into to town for dinner at one of our favorite spots, The Bank. It’s in the original bank building for the town, which survived the burning of the city and the end of the Civil War, as well as a later large fire in approximately 1900. I was spending a portion of my morning at The Mulberry, soaking up its free WiFi, as the marina WiFi (the merchants association in the historic district provides WiFi for the area) was hardly ever working and when it did, it was beyond inadequate.

Friday, I walked into town to get a haircut, and we spent the rest of time getting ready for the short trip to the town of Belhaven, approximately 25 mile to the east-northeast on the Pungo River, just off of the Intracoastal Waterway. It would be a motor trip, and from Belhaven, we were planning to cross Pamlico Sound to the island community of Ocracoke. From Ocracoke, we were considering a ferry trip to Hatteras Island, and then return to JO BETH and begin working our way slowly south again. We would leave Washington on Sunday morning.

That was the plan.

Sunday morning dawned clear, with a heavy dew, like rain, covering everything. I’m always awake before Lisa, and I quietly stepped off of JO BETH and onto the docks for the morning stroll to the heads, (whenever we’re in a marina, we always use the shore toilet facilities), followed by a short walk along the docks. The air was still and the humidity high, the temperature comfortable, a typical coastal Carolina morning in September. I walked along the waterfront for a bit, then turned and returned to the boat. Back at the boat, I stepped aboard, leading with my right foot. My flip flop hit squarely on a sail track installed on the deck and began to slide. With my right foot sliding on the deck, and my left foot hovering between the dock and the deck, I lunged forward.

The sailor’s instinct is not to go overboard, ever! I grabbed the boarding gate with my left hand and clawed for a grip on the canvas dodger with my right. My right hand simply slid along the wet fabric, and with my left hand firmly gripping the stainless railing of the boarding gate, I continued to move forward while my left shoulder and arm remained stationary. In an instant, I stopped. About the time I realized I wasn’t going overboard, I felt the searing pain of strained or sprained muscles and tendons in my upper back and left shoulder. I noticed my left hand and arm largely felt numb.

I released my grip on the rail and eased into the cockpit, where I sat on the wet cushion. My shoulder was simultaneously burning and knotting up. My only thought was, “well shit…”

However, relief soon washed over me, as I realized my lower back was okay, as were my knees. Or, at least they seemed to be. I was also thankful I hadn’t gone into the water, between the dock and the boat. Had that happened, and I had been knocked unconscious, I would have likely drowned.

I stood and slowly began to try and move my left arm, but it wasn’t happening. The tingling and numbness was now shifting to more of a feeling of burning. I eased down the companionway ladder and sat in the cabin, thinking. I got up to take some Ibuprofen and in the process, woke Lisa.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Just a little after seven.”

“What time do you want to leave?” came the next question.

I was quiet for a moment, but soon managed an extended “ummmm…”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up.

I proceeded to describe the past few minutes. By now, I could feel a solid knot had formed, deep under my left shoulder blade. My left arm was alternately tingly and then burning. My thumb and fingers felt on fire.

“Do you want to go to a doctor?” she asked.

“No, I think it’s just strained. I’ll start icing it and see if I can get an appointment with a massage therapist. There seem to be a few here.”

“We have the heating pad too,” Lisa reminded me, then she said, “I guess we’re not leaving today.”

“No, not today, maybe in a couple of days.”

She looked down at the cabin sole. “Well shit,” she muttered.

By Monday morning, the shoulder and upper back weren’t much better, and quite possibly a bit worse though I was hard pressed to tell, it just hurt. I called around to two or three of the massage therapists within walking distance, but didn’t get a single call back until late that afternoon. I told her what happened, to which she replied she was booked solid, but would make a spot for me at 6pm on Wednesday. I had also spoken with Steve, the owner of Pacific Seacraft, who referred me to his orthopedist. By now, it was late Monday afternoon and the kind lady at the orthopedist office said she would pass my message along to their appointment office, but not to expect a call back that day. In the interim, I was alternately icing and heating my shoulder area and gobbling down Ibuprofen like Halloween candy.

The next morning, after a restless and mostly sleepless night, I was at my spot in the Mulberry. At 8:30, my phone rang. It was the orthopedist’s office.

“Good morning, Mr. Ballard? This is Cindy from Vidant Orthopedics. You wanted to make an appointment about your shoulder?”

“Yes, good morning and thanks for calling back. I do need to make an appointment about straining my left shoulder and upper back area, thank you.”

“Alright, can you be here in 15 minutes?”

I was stunned. After a moment, I answered.
“Ummm, no ma’am, I can’t. I don’t have a car, I’m here on my boat. I’ll have to walk or take a taxi. And I’m not certain where your office is.”

She was quiet for moment. “We’re located across from the hospital. Can you be here by 10?”

I looked at the time again. I would make it happen.

“Yes, I’ll be there by 10.”

I packed up my laptop and made for the boat, about a three minute walk. I rushed down and told Lisa I had an appointment with an orthopedist. I went to the dock office to get a recommendation for a taxi company. The dockmaster wrote down two, saying the first one was the preferred option. I called the number and a cheerful man told me he had a cab in the area that would be there in a few minutes. “It’s a white mini-van, and I’m not sure he’s put the signs on it.” I didn’t think much of it, as many small ports we’d visited had unmarked cabs. I thanked him and told him I would wait outside in front of the dock office.

While in Washington, the ‘Smoke on the Water,’ a BBQ competition went on - this guy was one of many entertainers…

In less than 5 minutes, a white unmarked mini-van pulled alongside, the driver making eye contact and giving me a thumbs-up. I walked up to the passenger door and opened it. While I was waiting, I had realized I left my face mask on the boat, and I would need it at the doctor’s office. The man in the van looked at me curiously.

“I need to go get my mask off the boat, to have at the doctor’s office. Can you wait for a couple of minutes?”

He blinked at me. “Wait?” he asked, puzzled. “I dunno what you talkin’ ‘bout.”

It then dawned on me this was just some guy, coming to the waterfront. Not my taxi.

“Oh,” I said, “you’re not my taxi?”

He roared in laughter, “no boss, I ain’t no taxi! I’m meetin’ my sister for our morning walk, but if you need a ride, I’ll take you anywhere you need to go after we’re done a walkin’. ‘Specially to a doctor if you got to be goin’ there.”

He offered his hand, which I readily took.

“Thanks, man” I stammered, “I’m really sorry. I thought you were the taxi. Your car matches what I’m expecting.”

Laughing, he said, “It’s alright, alright.”

I sheepishly backed onto the sidewalk again as he got out and headed for the walkway, glancing back at me and shaking his head. In a few minutes, my actual taxi, marked and everything, though not a white minivan but an aged Buick Le Sabre, pulled up. Soon, I was at the doctor’s office in the waiting room…waiting.

I saw one of the practice PA’s who happened to be a sailor herself. After X-Rays and tests for mobility and strength, she determined I had experienced a severe strain of the rotator cuff and the adjoining soft tissues. She also suggested the brachial nerve was likely being choked off by the inflammation and swelling, giving me the feelings of numbness and tingling in my arm and hand. She prescribed an aggressive anti-inflammatory and told me to greatly restrict my activity, including sailing. And as she was a sailor, there was no bluffing to be done on my part.

“Ten days to two weeks. At least. We’ll make a follow-up appointment for you, two weeks from today. You should feel the effects of the medicine pretty quickly though.” We had discussed prescribing pain medication, but decided not to. First, I don’t like taking them. Second, I’ve done enough stupid stuff in my life and suffered through enough sprains, strains, etc., to know if inflammation goes away, so does pain. At least most of the time.

I was also able to get the massage done earlier than expected. It did seem to bring some relief, but the worst was yet to come.

Lisa went by taxi that same afternoon to get the prescription at the local Walgreen’s. Soon, the first dose was taken, and we settled in. We advised the dockmaster’s office of what had happened, and of course, they understood. And I did feel the effects of the anti-inflammatory drugs fast, but with an unexpected result.

One thing you will most certainly encounter in Washington, are these little guys - they’re everywhere…

The anti-inflammatory drugs quickly worked their magic, the inflammation was reduced. As predicted by the doctor, the pressure on the brachial nerve was eased, allowing it to begin firing signals again…and fire it did. By 10am on Thursday, the pain was intense over my left arm. It felt as if it was simultaneously on badly sunburned and being hit with electrical shocks. I called the orthopedist’s office and left a message for the PA and/or her nurse describing what was happening. By middle afternoon it was worse, and I couldn’t sit still. Lisa was asking for me to call the doctor’s office again, and in my addled state, I refused, mumbling, “she’s not there, what are they going to do but take another message?”

By early evening, I felt as if I was going to pass out. Poor Lisa couldn’t take any more of my yelling and slamming my fists into the boat and she took a long walk. My left arm now felt as if it were being amputated with a cutting torch, while my hand was being pounded into a bed of nails by giant wielding a sledge hammer. Lisa even checked with our friend Kate, asking if she had any pain medications. She didn’t, but offered the use of her car to take me to the ER. Lisa asked if I would go. I said yes.

It was now 10pm and I spent the next six hours at the ER. I don’t recall much about the experience, except I do remember they gave me a shot of pain meds in the waiting room. “Ibuprofen on steroids,” is how the nurse described it. I don’t recall it being effective. Mostly, that night, which was also my birthday, was a blur.

Because of COVID restrictions, Lisa could not wait in the waiting room with me, but could accompany me back to the exam room when my turn came. But after waiting several hours, she headed back to the boat with my promise I would call her when I was called back. As it turned out, the ER called her when I was sent to the exam room, so she texted me to see what was happening. The ER doctor diagnosed a severely stretched brachial nerve in addition to the general shoulder and upper back strain, and prescribed a pain medication which specifically targets nerve induced pain. They also applied a Lidocaine patch on my upper arm, and prescribed a muscle relaxer and general pain reliever. Last came a dose of Hydrocodone for sleep.

I texted Lisa and let her know I was ready to be picked up. We made it back to the boat and for the first time since my stumble, I slept for over six hours. At my follow up appointment with the PA some 10 days later, I was doing markedly better. I asked her for a prescription of Cataflam, an anti-inflammatory I had used when recovering from my back injury. It had been a while since I had taken it, but in the past, I had responded to it well. While I was still having pain in my arm and hand, it was lessening and my strength was slowly returning. At this point, the actual shoulder strain was almost forgotten, as the nerve issues had taken center stage. The nerve pain medicine also seemed to be working well.

*The Elmwood Inn, a Luxurious Bed & Breakfast, Dates to 1820*

However, another change was afoot. I began experiencing severe indigestion soon after taking the medicine doses. I was also experiencing bouts of ravenous hunger while simultaneously feeling bloated to the point of nausea. Something was not right. It turns out, these are well known and common side effects for both the Cataflam and the nerve pain medicine, Gabapentin. By now, I was doing quite well in managing my pain with either aspirin or Tylenol and was just taking the Gabapentin at night. I stopped the Gabapentin and felt some relief, but the symptoms returned. I stopped taking the Cataflam, and the indigestion and bizarre hunger and bloating symptoms vanished by the next morning.

During our newfound time in Washington, Lisa and I have explored the waterfront and neighborhoods filled with historic homes. We’ve sampled most of the restaurants within walking distance, and found a great little wine shop. Although most of our time has been spent ‘resting’ and healing, it has been fun to get out and about.

*Washington is Filled With Lovely Historic Homes*

I’ve been ‘released’ from the doctor’s care, operating as much as pain and common sense will allow. Of course, this has changed our sailing plans. I’m still having some pain in my left arm and hand, all nerve related. My upper arm still feels as if I have a moderately bad sunburn, though that seems to diminish a bit each day. My left hand is the bigger concern. My grip strength is way off, and I still have episodes of numbness and attention getting pain around my index finger and the back of my hand. Making an offshore passage isn’t in the cards for me until I’m fully recovered. I can’t trust my grip in the event I need to hold on or steady myself, not to mention doing my share of the routine things that are a part of daily life at sea – sail handling, steering, and the like.

Right now, the plan is for Lisa and I to get JO BETH to Morehead City, North Carolina and stage there for an offshore passage to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. The trip to Morehead City would be done entirely by motor and should be relatively easy. Once at Morehead City, our friend Jesus would meet us there and he and Lisa would take JO BETH offshore to Hilton Head, and I would drive Jesus’ car back to Georgia. We could make the trip in the Intracoastal Waterway, but it would take significantly longer and cost significantly more. With a good weather window, JO BETH can make the offshore run from Morehead City to Hilton Head in two or three days. The same trip in the waterway would take two weeks, perhaps even a bit longer. Things are far from certain, but that’s the best we’ve been able to come up with for the moment. Timing, as it usually is, will be key.

Once in Hilton head, we’ll begin a long awaited and planned canvas project, and installation of some new navigational and electronics systems. We’ll also be replacing our dinghy and outboard. Many of you know we had put our Foldable RIB inflatable dinghy and motor up for sale, as it wasn’t really suiting our style of cruising and sailing. We’re happy to announce our dear ‘Frankie’ now has a new home and owners in the Outer Banks!

Also, we’re introducing a new feature with this blog post: Stops Along the Way. This will feature a discussion of various ports and harbors where we stop, the amenities available, what we like and don’t like and so on. Please feel free to make any comments or offer input! You can find the link in the link column to the left.

As always, there is lots more to follow - stay tuned!

Morehead City, North Carolina to Washington, North Carolina

October 18, 2021

Morehead City, NC proved to an interesting stop for a variety of reasons including the tides in the area. One thing I didn’t discuss in the previous post is how strange, at least to us, the tides behave here. First off, ocean tidal dynamics are odd. As sailors, we learn to adapt to a constantly changing environment. After all, the medium upon which we base our existence is, literally, fluid and never static. We have sailed in oceans where the tidal rise and fall can be as much as 10 feet, with high and low tides occurring every 24 hours. In the Florida Keys, the tidal change was rarely more than three feet in that same time span. And in the Florida Panhandle and along the upper Gulf coast, the there is only one high and one low tide every 24 hour cycle.

In the vast majority of locations on Earth, the tides are governed by the pull of gravity from the moon. Published tidal tables are based on the lunar cycle, and are predictions of when the high and low tides will occur for any given area, along with what the expected rise and fall of the water levels should be. They are surprisingly accurate in both areas, almost without exception. However, the predictions can be skewed a bit, as in a few places, such as the large sounds of North Carolina, the effects of wind direction and velocity will overpower the lunar influences at play. Along North Carolina’s outer banks, the lunar influence of the tides is minimal – a few scant inches in most places. Here, the rises and falls of water levels are more influenced by weather. Prolonged periods of strong winds can, literally, shove the water in the sounds and rivers around, causing rises or falls of water that can be measured in feet.

*Overview of the Morehead City Waterfront; Sugarloaf Island os to the Left - Photo Courtesy State of North Carolina*

Part of our trip planning is being keenly aware of what is happening with the tide at the times of expected arrivals or departures at an inlet, marina, anchorage, etc. The expression ‘go with the flow’ came from the days of engineless sailing ships awaiting an outgoing tide before departing from a port. And so it was with our departure from the Morehead City Transient Docks for the short run to Cape Lookout National Seashore. The high tide was predicted to be at approximately 11:30 in the morning. The half-hour before and after the time of the predicted high or low tide is known as ‘slack water,’ a window of time in which the current flow is negligible. These were ideal conditions for making the run to the Cape, as we would be ‘going with the flow,’ since when the tide turned the outgoing tide would give us a boost in speed back into the ocean.

Of course, it didn’t go that way.

On the Saturday morning of Labor Day Weekend, we spent our time making final preparations. We had already provisioned earlier in the week, and had a leisurely morning, starting with a traditional southern breakfast at Grumpy’s. Back at the boat, we topped up the fresh water tanks, took out the trash, checked engine fluid and belt/hose, etc. We still had a couple of hours before the predicted high tide, so we took a short stroll back into town with our dock neighbor Todd and his pup, Bruce. We had enjoyed our time in Morehead City. The working vibe of the town and laid back atmosphere of the waterfront, with the charter boat fishing fleet, and fantastic restaurants – The Ruddy Duck Tavern and Full Circle Café are not to be missed – made our time and the delays we experienced here worthwhile.

So you can imagine my surprise that when we returned to the dock about 45 minutes or so before high tide, we saw that the tide was still incoming as strongly as it had been all morning. This was quite puzzling, as according to the predicted time of high tide, the flow should have slowed significantly. We double checked the tables to see if we had not read them correctly, but they were as we remembered. Another possibility we considered was that the rate of the flooding tide was being influenced by a divide. A divide is a point on the map where, on incoming or outgoing tide, the flow can switch directions due to the influence of land. Directly across from the Morehead City Transient Docks lay Sugarloaf Island. We soon decided that the island was influencing the flow of the tide and were experiencing a ‘dividing’ effect. Regardless, with the three or so knot flow of water pressing JO BETH hard against the dock, it was clear we weren’t going anywhere for a while. By 2:30 or so in the afternoon, the tidal flow had eased sufficiently that, with Todd’s help handling lines, we were able to slip off the dock and get underway. In a couple of hours, we were far enough out into Beaufort Inlet channel to exit the channel and turn due east, heading straight for Cape Lookout Bight approximately six miles distant.

Winds were east-southeast, light, and directly in front of us, so we motored the 6 miles in just over an hour. Soon, we were well into the bight, hunting for a spot to anchor amongst the many of dozens of boats already there. It was the Labor Day holiday weekend, so this wasn’t unexpected. Most of the bight is deep, with shallow areas fringing the shores and peppering the middle portions. There are marked navigation channels, as the Coast Guard once maintained a life-saving station here; there’s still a Coast Guard mooring buoy in the bight, still used by local Coast Guard vessels. An hour before a most glorious sunset, we were anchored in 10 feet of water on the southeastern side of the sand dunes. We could hear the low, dull roar of the surf crashing just on the other side.

*Nautical Chart Showing Cape Lookout Bight, North Carolina*

Sunday morning, a good number of boats began to leave, and by Sunday afternoon, probably more than half had departed. We took the dinghy in and wandered the beach area for a few hours, before returning to the boat for a lazy afternoon of reading and listening to the Braves baseball game. On Labor Day morning, there was another mass exodus from the anchorage, and, as the crowd thinned down to mostly day trippers, we took the dinghy to shore near the lighthouse. The lighthouse entered service in 1859 and became fully automated in 1950. Unfortunately, the lighthouse itself is closed to visitors due some significant structural issues. It’s still in service, alerting mariners to the presence of Cape Lookout shoals which extend some 16 miles into the sea from the Cape. Early sailors referred to Cape Lookout as ‘the horrible headland,’ and it was more feared than the infamous Cape Hatteras.

There is something of a myth surrounding the paint scheme of alternating black and white diamonds which make up the daymarks on the lighthouse. The story goes the paint crews confused the paint scheme with that assigned to the lighthouse built at Cape Hatteras, which warns sailors away from Diamond Shoals; thus, the Cape Hatteras lighthouse should be painted with the diamond pattern instead of its black and white spiral. While a good story, the daymark patterns were randomly assigned, and there is no evidence to suggest the lighthouse was painted incorrectly.

*Light Keeper’s Cottage, Cape Lookout, North Carolina*

We spent another three days at Cape Lookout, enjoying the quiet following the holiday. We didn’t explore much further. There were several islands on the northern side of the bight we had hoped to visit, but the winds picked up just enough to guarantee a long and sloppy ride in the dinghy.

On Wednesday morning, we weighed anchor and headed back to Beaufort Inlet, this time bound for the town of Beaufort, NC. By noon, we were secured alongside the Beaufort Town Docks and had loads of laundry in the local laundromat washers. Onboard showers followed and then it was a dinner of a delicious brick oven pizza at the Black Sheep, right on the waterfront. We usually shower in the marina facilities, if available, but the showers at the Beaufort docks are cramped and not air conditioned. The next day, we took the marina loaner car and made a grocery run to Harris-Teeter, with a stop at West Marine for boat spares and parts. Oddly enough, we had to go back to Morehead City for our shopping!

*One of the Many Fascinating Exhibits at the North Carolina Maritime Museum, Beaufort, North Carolina*

*Scrimshaw Exhibit, Dated to Late 1700’s, North Carolina Maritime Museum*

The stop in Beaufort was primarily to wait out incoming bad weather, but also to visit the North Carolina Maritime Museum and The Harvey W. Smith Watercraft Center, a working boat building shop that trains students to use traditional methods and materials. We spent a rainy Thursday at each, and while I can say we enjoyed both immensely, the highlight for both of us was the extensive nautical library at the Maritime Museum. Beaufort also presented us with more delicious spots to eat. Beyond the Black Sheep’s amazing pizza, we enjoyed a spectacular dinner at The Beaufort Grocery Company restaurant. That said, Lisa and I were somewhat disappointed in the town. It certainly wasn’t that we had a negative experience there, but for the cruising sailor, we felt it came up a bit short. For instance, we needed to pick up some replacement parts and do a grocery run. There isn’t a marine chandler in Beaufort, and the small hardware store there had little in the way of actual marine-grade hardware and parts. There is one grocery store, but it is quite basic. Even the marina staff at the Beaufort Town Docks told us that most everyone in Beaufort goes to Morehead City for routine shopping.

*The Impressive Nautical Library at the North Carolina Maritime Museum, Beaufort, North Carolina*

A note also about the anchorage at both Morehead City and Beaufort: both are skinny and narrow, and the bottoms quite fouled with abandoned anchors, moorings, etc. Morehead City will be our preferred stop when sailing here in the future.

*Historic and Beautiful Homes Abound in Beaufort*

The rain cleared and Friday dawned bright and sunny. We spent a leisurely morning readying JO BETH for the short 25 mile run to Oriental, North Carolina, situated on the banks of the wide Neuse River. As the trip would only take four or five hours, and would all be made under motor power, we weren’t in a hurry. Around noon we were underway from the Beaufort Town Docks and soon entered the waters of the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway. There were a huge number of boats, mostly powerboats, just milling around; some were anchored, but most seemed to be just hanging out. We began picking our way through the crowd, when we noticed a Coast Guard patrol boat racing our way, blue lights flashing. They came alongside and told us the water way was closed for power boat speed racing, and that it would be closed for approximately another hour.

*JO BETH Ready For the Short Run to Oriental, North Carolina*

Why hadn’t we heard about this…and why hadn’t they hailed us on the radio? I checked the radio and saw it was set to channel 9, the frequency used by the marina. We had been communicating with the marina over channel 9 during our departure from the dock and hadn’t switched back to channel 16, the general hailing frequency. If the Coast Guard had called us on the radio, we wouldn’t have heard them. I switched the radio to channel 16 and we began milling about with the rest of the boats. Truthfully, it was quite annoying, and not just to us. Inside of the hour wait, the impatient calls on the radio began: “how many more laps does this race have?” and so on. After about 45 minutes, we noticed there didn’t seem to be any racing happening at all. Once again the Coast Guard approached us.

“You’re northbound on the waterway, correct?”

“Yes,” I answered, “going to Oriental.”

“The waterway’s opened for a half-hour. Start making way.”

I thought for a moment. We had timed our departure to catch the last of the incoming tide to push us north. The closure of the waterway caused us to miss that window, and now we were running against the full outgoing tide. We had about a mile to go before we would be clear of the race course, and with the tide against us, we’d be lucky to make three and a half knots, even at near max power. It would be tight.

“With the tide against us, we can only make about three, three and a half knots. Half hour’s going to be close,” I told them.

“Get underway, sir,” the helmsman said. “Have a safe run.”

And with that, they peeled away.

When we had about a quarter mile to go, a sleek powerboat pulled alongside.

“Are you guys headed out under the bridge? Going north?”

“Yes,” we answered.

“Thanks,” they replied and veered away.

Almost immediately, we heard a call on the radio.

“That slow sailboat is almost clear.”

Lisa and I both broke into laughter. As soon as we cleared the bridge marking the racecourse, the all clear was given and the race resumed. But now, we had a potential problem. The delay brought about by the speedboat race was putting the squeeze on our expected arrival at Oriental Harbor. There were very few places we could anchor between Beaufort and Oriental, and traveling the waterway at night on a small sailboat can be sketchy at best. We’ve done it, more times than we care to remember. There are all manner of unmarked and unlit obstacles to avoid; fish traps, crab pot markers, duck hunting blinds, logs, etc. Once clear of the Beaufort area, the influence of the tide lessened, and soon we were moving along at five knots. Onward we pushed.

About a half hour before sunset, we entered the waters of the wide Neuse River, the lights of Oriental winking at us some five miles distant on the northern banks. As we approached the outer harbor, we saw one other sailboat anchored and soon found our spot and dropped the anchor just as the sun dropped below the horizon. After drinks in the cockpit and a quick dinner, we were soon fast asleep.

Saturday morning, we readied the dinghy and powered into the inner harbor. Many towns along the Intracoastal Waterway provide dinghy landing facilities along with free docks, which are usually limited to 24 or 48 hour stays, for visiting boats. We moved at idle speed through dozens of docked shrimp and commercial fishing boats and tied up at the dinghy dock. We made a beeline for The Bean, a very sailor friendly coffee shop with stellar free and secured WiFi. We lunched at M&M’s Café and walked through a true general store, The Oriental Provision Company. On Sunday, Lisa went to church at St. Thomas Episcopal Church, where she received a warm welcome, particularly from Cowboy, the church service dog! Later that afternoon, we saw two boats approaching the outer harbor anchorage area, and soon realized one was Todd, who we met at the Morehead City Transient docks. The other boat belonged to friends of Todd. We spent a brief time chatting, after which they headed into town for dinner, while we readied ourselves for a morning departure.

*JO BETH, Anchored in Oriental’s Outer Harbor*

As it is getting later in the season, Lisa and I decided to go ahead and go to Washington, NC, where Pacific Seacraft is headquartered to begin our refrigerator insulation rehab and a couple of other things. We didn’t want to push, and after an early departure, we anchored just outside of the mouth of the Pamlico River early the same afternoon. Lisa caught up on some work, while I took care of a few projects, did some photo edits, and read. We had a huge stir fry dinner to use the last of our fresh veggies before they went bad. We put on the Braves baseball game, and I was soon fast asleep.

The next morning dawned quiet and still, without a breath of wind. We upped anchor and powered away, soon entering the wide and deep Pamlico river where we pointed our bow west. The river is beautiful and wide, with very little current. After about three hours, we passed the small village of Bath, founded in 1705. Two hours later, we glided through the opened railway swing bridge at Washington, North Carolina and within a half hour more, were secured alongside the friendly waterfront municipal marina docks. And from here our story takes quite the turn, or doesn’t, as circumstances arise.

I’ll tell you all about it in the next post.

Southport, North Carolina to Morehead City, North Carolina

September 03, 2021

Southport, NC was our first stop after crossing into North Carolina from the theme park and vacation rental strewn metropolis of Myrtle beach, South Carolina. We spent a week, unintentionally, at St. James Plantation Marina about five miles south of Southport, part of the gated community of St. James Plantation. I’ll get to the ‘unintentional’ part in a moment.

*St. James Marina, Southport, NC - Image Courtesy St. James Plantation Marina*

A few of our friends tried to warn us off St. James, with justifiable reasons. For one, it is quite isolated. It lies within a sprawling gated community with golf courses, pools, restaurants, etc., all of which are available to residents and members of the St. James community. However, as a transient boater stopping at the marina, resources are limited to the basics. The marina advertises a marina restaurant and convenience store, both of which are closed. There are showers – one women’s and one men’s – and bathrooms, also one a piece – and one washer and one dryer. At the time, we were the only ‘non-resident’ in the marina, but with more than two or three transient boats docked, the meager facilities would become overtaxed.

This is not to say it was not a good place to be; the marina staff is incredibly accommodating and hospitable, the dockhands knowledgeable and quick to respond, the facility in good shape, and the resident boat owners friendly and more than eager to share local knowledge. The dockmaster’s office had a range of basic materials and equipment for sale. We were able to arrange a grocery delivery to the marina and hired a local driver, also a resident of the St. James community, to take us into the town of Southport for an afternoon.

The town of Southport is situated on Cape Fear, at the mouth of the Cape Fear River and the Atlantic Ocean, with a charming small downtown area featuring quaint homes, bars and restaurants, along with a variety of shops. We had a delicious seafood lunch at a waterfront spot called Provisions and then walked into town where we found a small wine shop. Lisa found an amazing white Boudreaux which we had with that evening’s dinner of sautéed triggerfish and veggies. We spent an hour or so at the fun and informative Southport Maritime Museum. Katy, our driver from St. James, insisted we stop at a bakery who’s specialty was glazed croissants – for our southern friends, imagine a buttery, flaky croissant made by Krispy Kreme. Delicious!

We had initially planned to be at St. James Marina for three days to wait out squally weather, but the weather lingered and we extended our stay there for a couple of days, planning to leave the following Saturday. On Friday, as we were making preparations to go, I felt a familiar twinge in my lower back. We decided to extend for a couple more days and see how things were feeling. I spent most of Saturday and Sunday taking walks and stretching. By Monday morning, we were underway in the waterway, bound for the harbor of Wrightsville Beach, some 30 miles northeast.

*Homes Along Banks Channel, Wrightsville Beach, NC*

By three that afternoon, we were anchored in Banks Channel just off of Wrightsville Beach. We wanted to sit at anchor for a few days, as there was a nice, but warm southerly breeze blowing, and the anchorage was mostly empty, with only three or so other boats there. It seemed a good place to sit and relax. The town has a great free dinghy dock for shore access with a fantastic Tex-Mex restaurant and bar and grill just steps away. There was even a small and surprisingly well stocked grocery store close by.

While we were there, our friends Frank and Jessica from the sailing yacht DESIRE came in for a one night stay in the harbor, and joined us for an evening of drinks and conversation. A great surprise came when our friends Ron and Fran, whom we met while sailing in the Keys, contacted us after seeing our FaceBook post announcing our arrival at Wrightsville Beach. Ron and Fran now reside in Wilmington, NC, at the upper reaches of the Cape Fear River, and invited us to lunch and for an afternoon relaxing at their beautiful home situated along the Intracoastal Waterway, which we had just passed a few days prior. We lunched on absolutely delicious hamburgers at, of all places, a beachside gas station and made another quick grocery run, all courtesy of Ron and Fran. It was a fun afternoon.

As the weekend approached, more boats arrived at our quiet anchorage. We had a good weather window to sail north to Morehead City, NC, with a planned to stop at the Morehead City Docks for a couple of nights. We planned a visit to Cape Lookout for a few days, and then would spend a day or two in the town of Beaufort. We had been closely watching Hurricane Ida as she made her approach to the Louisiana coast, keenly aware that we too may be dealing with her on some level after she had done her worst there. Having been through several major hurricanes, including Category 5 Hurricane Andrew in Miami, in which we lost nearly everything we owned, Lisa and I can fully empathize with the people living in the landfall area. We know and understand better than most what they would experience before, during, and after the storm.

We weighed anchor and left Banks Channel late Friday afternoon. After heading east into the Atlantic Ocean through Masonboro Inlet, we pointed our bows northeast for the Beaufort Inlet sea buoy, some 76 miles distant. We set all sail, as we had hoped to make this leg under sail power alone, but the winds were light and the swell, gentle as it was, made it a challenge for the sails to hold their wind. The trip turned into a combination of motoring and sailing, known as ‘motor sailing.’ The sun set and darkness settled in around us. Soon, the stars were glittering overhead and we coasted through the rolling swell at five knots or so. We saw no other vessels save the USCG (United States Coast Guard) Buoy Tender MAPLE which was servicing a NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration) weather buoy situated off of Topsail Beach, some 10 miles or so to our west. The night passed quietly as the breeze fell lighter and lighter. Lisa and I changed watch at around three in the morning. She reported we were approximately 16 miles from the Beaufort Inlet sea buoy, and that all was good. The sails were flapping about in the ever lightening breeze and not wanting to wake Lisa to help in striking the staysail and jib, I sheeted them in as tightly as possible so as to calm them.

Not long after, I picked up the winking white light of the Beaufort Inlet sea buoy, and soon after, the red and green flashing lights of the outer channel buoys came into view. This portion of the North Carolina coast, known as Cape Lookout, turns sharply east and then north, forming the southernmost portion of the famous arc of the Outer Banks. The entrance channel into Beaufort is oriented in a south to north direction. As we were on a course heading northeast, we were approaching the channel from the southwest, at a slight angle. I woke Lisa and soon, we turned into the channel proper. We furled the jib and dropped the staysail, leaving the mainsail up to provide some resistance to the swell induced rolling. Soon, a nearly endless stream of fishing and dive boats passed us, heading out for the day. We watched as some of the smaller boats pounded hard on the faces of the incoming waves, their crews hanging on, fishing rods swaying and wobbling all around. Lisa shook her head and muttered, “you gotta really love to fish.”

*The Tiny Morehead City Transient Docks Marina, Morehead City, NC*

Once inside the channel and out of the ocean swell, we struck and secured the mainsail and proceeded to Morehead City Harbor. The Morehead City Docks, or ‘Morehead City Transient Docks’ as they’re formally known, is a dichotomy of sorts. As the name suggests, the marina is a city operated and managed facility. The marina is also free for the public to use, up to 4 hours per day in any one 24 hour day, and overnight stays are available for a very reasonable charge, required to be paid in advance. We’ve stayed at many different marinas in many different places which have been managed by local city or county governments. Most are well run and quite basic, but sometimes communication from the facility isn’t the best and the facilities can be less than desirable.

And it’s here that the dichotomy arises: the Morehead City Transient Docks are a tiny facility. There are a total of eleven slips available, with power and water installed between each set of two slips. There is one bathroom and shower for men, and one for ladies. There are no laundry facilities, no waste pump-out facilities, and no fuel services, but there are trash disposal services. The docks, while well maintained, are lightly built. But perhaps most startling of all, is the marina has only one full time employee, who isn’t there on weekends and hasn’t been here most of this week, which is the week before the Labor Day holiday weekend. In spite of all that, this has been one of the most attentive marinas with which we’ve dealt. Dockmaster Mike was in constant communication with us prior to our arrival, giving us incredibly detailed approach and docking instructions, as well as a list of the resources available to us within walking distance. When we realized we would be dealing with the remnants of Hurricane Ida and asked to extend our stay, everything was done with one phone call in a matter of minutes. Kudos to Morehead City and to the singular marina staff.

Through dockmaster Mike, we found a local laundromat which picked up our laundry and had it returned to us the same day, all washed, folded and neatly bagged for $45.00, including the $5.00 pick-up and delivery fee. We also had lunch at one of his recommended spots shortly after our arrival, after which we returned to JO BETH for extended afternoon naps. The marina is fronted by a small park and our first night there a local band, which performed an endless stream of Beatle’s covers, kept us entertained.

The one downside of the Morehead City Transient Docks is the WiFi – or lack thereof. The marina does provide free WiFi, but the signal barely reaches the docks. It is quite good if you carry your laptop or tablet to the office and sit on the small porch area directly in front of the window. After some complaints from previous visitors, the marina did install a signal repeater…inside the office! We found a coffee shop a short walk away which offers not only fantastic (and strong!) coffee and WiFi, but quite lovely picture framing. Thanks Reed’s Coffee and Framing! (Gotta love small towns!)

We had planned only a short stay at Morehead City, but Ida changed our plans. On Monday a boat arrived from Beaufort with tales of a crowded anchorage and poorly anchored boats, dragging hither and yon in a moderate breeze. The local forecast was becoming increasingly intense as Ida’s remnants, which would pass well west and north of us, were dragging a cold front along the system’s backside. We extended our stay in Morehead City until Wednesday, when we planned to go to the Beaufort City Docks and wait for Ida to pass. However, the winds began to pick up much earlier than forecast across the miles wide fetch of Bouge Sound, to the southwest of the marina. On Wednesday morning, it was quite clear that exiting our slip at the Morehead City Transient Docks would be a dicey proposition. We decided to stay through Saturday. By mid-afternoon Tuesday, the winds were sustained in the mid-twenty knot range and gusting well past thirty, with even stronger winds occurring in the fast moving rain squalls streaming past. In early evening, winds were nearing 30 knots sustained, and waves were breaking over the marina docks. JO BETH was bucking so much, I fit a ball fender at the dock in front of our bow to absorb any contact she might have with the marina dock structure. The docks were twisting and writhing in the harbor chop. One of the unattended boats tucked into the small anchorage just across from the marina began to drag her anchors, and after another brief squall, had disappeared from view. We later found she had been secured alongside an empty dock in the northeast section of the harbor.

Inside the cabin, it felt as if we were underway, sailing along at speed, the fruit and veggie hammocks swinging about and our tea mugs clanking together. Our dock neighbor Todd, a singlehanded sailor on his Beneteau 38 sailboat, said the motion was so much that he actually felt seasick! Every so often, Lisa or I would go on deck to check docklines and the protective chafe gear we had fit where lines were subject to chafe and wear. Fortunately, by three AM, things had settled down substantially. And the cold-front produced a noticeably cool change in temperature. For the first time in several weeks, our refrigerator and freezer were able to ‘catch-up!’

*Morehead City Honors its Seafaring Heritage Throughout the City…*

We’ll be at the Morehead City Transient Docks until Saturday, when we plan to leave and sail the short distance to Cape Lookout to anchor for a few days. Cape Lookout is a National Seashore and part of the National Park system. We can sail in behind the ‘hook’ and anchor in a large and well protected basin where we’ll have access to quiet beaches, nature trails, and beautiful scenery with unspoiled night skies. Afterwards, we plan to head to Beaufort for a few days and then further into the North Carolina sounds and rivers.

An upcoming stop will be some 30 miles up the Pamlico River at the little town of Washington, NC. Pacific Seacraft, JO BETH’s builder, is based there, and we plan to have the old and tired insulation around our refrigerator/freezer rehabbed. Hopefully, this will take some load of our overworked refrigeration system and improve the performance of the refrigerator/freezer. We’re planning for a few other small projects to be done while there. Washington is a neat little town, and we’re looking forward to our visit. We’re especially looking forward to dinner at The Bank, a local restaurant situated in the original town bank building. A stop at the small village of Bath, also on the Pamlico River, is planned, as are a few days in the town of Belhaven, along the banks of the Pungo River. From there, we will cruise through as much of the Outer Banks area as we’re able to do before turning JO BETH to the south once again.

Hilton Head Island, SC to Southport, NC

August 21, 2021

We left Hilton Head Island, SC, on a sunny and windless Sunday morning, but under the threat of rain and thunderstorms. We motored away from Skull Creek Marina, with the fuel and water tanks topped up, bound for Georgetown, SC. There, we would stop to top up the fuel tank once again, and then head back out offshore towards Beaufort, NC and if weather permitted, we would sail around Cape Hatteras and on to the Chesapeake Bay.

*We spent just over a week at Skull Creek Marina, Hilton head Island, SC*

That was the plan. In what has become an all too familiar tune, it was not to be.

We powered east, then southeast out of Port Royal Sound and into the Atlantic Ocean. The forecast predicted very light southerly winds which is exactly what we had. In fact, with the motor pushing us at five or six knots, we were moving faster than the true wind speed was. The sea was quite rolly, with swells coming on our stern and quarters – the back corners of the boat – and from time to time, we rolled quite heavily. A slight course change more to the northeast settled the motion somewhat, but the rolling was to stay with us for the remainder of the day and into the night. We counted no less than 11 cargo ships to our east, all bound for Savannah, GA, with most anchored awaiting their turn to enter the port.

As the afternoon progressed, we tuned into the Atlanta Braves baseball game, listening via the Sirius XM app on Lisa’s phone, but soon lost cellular signal. By late-afternoon, we were hearing distant rumbles of thunder to our south and west. A high thin haze of high, wispy, clouds now obscured most of the sky. Fortunately, the storms stayed over land and didn’t bother us. We set our stereo to the Sirius XM station ‘Watercolors,’ which plays light jazz, and watched as the day slowly morphed into night. A pod of dolphins joined us briefly as we glided along under the steady drone of the diesel engine. The navigation and compass lights were switched on, the electronic instrument displays dimmed. We settled in for the evening, having tuna salad and crackers for a light supper. Soon stars were shining above as the skies gradually cleared.

The miles clicked by. We saw only a few small fishing boats heading back in from offshore, and didn’t expect to see much other traffic until we were approaching the entrance for Charleston Harbor. That wouldn’t happen until around 2 AM. Lisa took the first watch and I settled down on the opposite cockpit seat to nap. Even at sea, it can still be quite warm after sunset. The cabin was warm, not just from the August day, but from the diesel motor. It was just too hot to try and sleep below.

I was dozing comfortably when the battery warning light on the engine panel flashed, catching Lisa’s attention. She immediately checked the battery voltage and saw it was elevated past 15 volts. “Not again!” I groaned. Readers will remember the problems we had when we left Marathon, FL earlier this year; a problem which led to the premature destruction of our batteries. We thought that problem was behind us, yet here it was again, rearing its ugly red eyes in the darkness. It was 11:30 PM.

Lisa and I discussed what to do. She was tired, and ready for some sleep, so I took over. We agreed to watch it closely, and if necessary to divert into Charleston. Neither of us are fans of entering harbors at night, particularly those we’ve never been to before, (such as Charleston), but the channel there is wide and deep, accommodating large cargo ships and military vessels. On the other hand, we didn’t want to destroy several thousand dollars’ worth of new batteries. The decision was made that if the voltage persisted at excessively high levels, we would go into Charleston. We were still a few miles from the channel entrance and would have time to watch things. Otherwise, we would continue on to Georgetown as planned and tackle the problem there.

Soon, I could pick out the winking red and green lights of the channel buoys and the steady white flashes of the harbor sea buoy light marking the Charleston Harbor channel. (Sea buoys mark the seaward most portion of an inlet or harbor channel.) The lights of anchored ships also became visible and their AIS (Automated Identifications System) signals began appearing on our chartplotter screen. Surprisingly, there were no moving ships or boats within the channel, except for one, the tugboat MARY BENNETT.

The battery charging issues had settled down, with voltages in a more normal range, albeit on the high end. The battery light had remained dark for over an hour. At around 1:30 AM, we were close enough to the channel that I could distinctly see the lights of the MARY BENNETT and the barge she was pushing. However, I was a bit puzzled as to what exactly she was doing. I watched her visually and on AIS as she seemed to be making slow wide turns, moving first to the east and then to the west, between two sets of channel buoys. The AIS system calculates ‘CPA,’ or ‘Closest Point of Approach’ between vessels based on the course and speed of each vessel within a predetermined range. The CPA for MARY BENNETT was varying from a few hundred yards to nearly one and a half miles. If she was pushing a barge, and heading out of the channel, I needed to know. I decided to call her on the radio.

“MARY BENNETT, MARY BENNETT, MARY BENNETT, this is the Sailing Vessel JO BETH on channel 16, over.”

A cheerful male voice with a slight Texas twang answered.

“Hey, vessel calling MARY BENNETT, that’s me! Somebody wants to talk to me! Switch and answer channel 71, acknowledge channel 71, over.”
“JO BETH switching to channel 71, over.” I clicked the channel control buttons until 71 showed on the radio display and pressed the microphone button.

“MARY BENNETT, JO BETH.”

“JO BETH, cap’n, how are you this fine evening, over?”

“MARY BENNETT, things are good, thanks. I’m the sailboat about 2 miles to your southeast, over.”

“JO BETH, I see you visually and got you on AIS. Making 5.8 knots and no wind? Your lights tell me you’re under power, over.”

“MARY BENNETT, roger that, I’m under motor power and about to cross the Charleston Harbor channel entrance. Are you outbound Charleston, towing or pushing ahead, over?”
“JO BETH, nah cap’n, I’m not doin’ neither. Just doin’ a little dredging and smoothing on the channel bottom here ‘tween reds four and six. I’m like a road grader on the ocean. You’re good to cross, cap’n, over.”

“MARY BENNETT, thank you sir. Have a good evening, over.”

“JO BETH, you’re welcome. Where you headed, over?”

And so ensued another ten minutes of chat, covering everything from the music we were both listening to that night, to sailing in and around Charleston, to BBQ, and of course, the weather. As I watched the lights of MARY BENNETT fade over our stern and into the night, I couldn’t decide if her Texas captain was bored, lonesome, or a little of both.

The loom of Charleston’s lights and the lights of those ships awaiting entry to her harbor soon dimmed on the horizon. The battery light had started to flicker again, but the charging voltages weren’t insane as they had been. It was just after 4 AM and I was tired and getting sleepy. I had listened to a podcast and dozed off when my phone timer alerted me. The timer is set to activate every 20 minutes. It reminds me to check our course, scan the horizon for the lights of ships, and to take a quick stock of our situation. I was just about to go and wake Lisa when a speck of light appeared on the horizon in front of us, just off our starboard bow. A split second later, the vessel appeared as an AIS target on the chartplotter.

She was the tug DOLLY MAE, towing a barge load of timber, and was 11 miles to our northeast on a course for Charleston. If neither of us changed our course and speed, our CPA would be less than 100 yards in an hour and a half. That’s far too close. I made a slight course change to the northwest and decided to stay on watch and monitor the situation. As DOLLY MAE slipped ever closer, I called her captain on the radio. He answered and confirmed he had also been tracking our position on AIS and had also altered his course slightly to the southeast. We both agreed this would allow us to pass roughly a mile apart, starboard side to starboard side. After DOLLY MAE and her tow had passed behind us, I woke Lisa. It was just before 5:30 AM.

As she began to stir, I reported our standard change of watch information: we were approaching Cape Romain, a somewhat shallow area of ocean between Charleston and Georgetown. I suggested she take a look at our course after my course change and adjust it as she deemed necessary; I felt we were good, but we may be being set to the west-northwest by current. Otherwise, I reported our present course and speed, the vessels we had passed and with whom I had conversed, and that the battery issue had seemed to calm although the charging voltages were still uncomfortably high. I crawled into our bunk and was soon asleep as JO BETH’s bow hissed through the slight ocean swell.

I awoke a few hours later to an unusual sight. Because the weather was so calm, and the sea state had laid down considerably, we had opened the overhead deck hatches to allow what breeze there was to flow through the cabin. The sun was up and the sky bright and clear. What was unusual was the angle of the hatch was such that I had a perfect reflection of the sea and JO BETH’s bow, literally as if I was standing out there. It took my half-asleep brain to realize what I was seeing. I even noticed one or two small flying fish take to the air.

I climbed the ladder and said ‘good morning’ to Lisa, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin. I grabbed some yogurt and trail mix for breakfast, as Lisa slipped below to take a short nap. She told me she did make a course change to take us a bit further northeast-east from the shallows of Cape Romain, and that our turn to enter the channel into Winyah Bay and Georgetown Harbor was about 12 miles away. At our speed of 6 knots, the turn was to occur in two hours or so. Lisa went below and I waved to a fishing boat as they passed us heading east. The sun was bright, and the sea was flat. All that was missing was the wind. The diesel droned on, and Lisa had reported seeing the battery light flash a few times. The charging voltages were still quite high, in excess of 14.5 volts, but at least it wasn’t going over 15 volts too often.

*JO BETH, at Harborwalk Marina, Georgetown, SC*

Soon, the red and green buoys of the Winyah Bay entrance channel began to rise on the western horizon, along with treetops and structures on shore. Small fishing boats became more numerous, and at 11:30 AM, we were fully in the channel and moving through the bay. We passed the old Georgetown Lighthouse, now abandoned and out of service, on our starboard side. Soon, we were going against the full flow of the outgoing tide. Our speed over ground dropped from nearly six knots to barely three. It was going to be a long afternoon.

At 4 PM, we secured at Harborwalk Marina in the quaint little harbor of Georgetown. We had originally planned to take on fuel and spend one night there. However, I told Chris, the dockmaster, of our ongoing electrical issues. “Stay as long as you need to,” was his reply. “We understand.” He provided a couple of names of electricians and mechanics to call, but none were available. We walked into the downtown area and had a very generously portioned meal at the aptly named SoCo – short for ‘Southern Comfort Food’ – and returned to JO BETH completely overfed and exhausted.

The next morning, after a delicious southern breakfast at the Thomas Café in downtown, I tackled the electrical issues. Or rather, I attempted to. (Before I go any further, let me state that electricity is not my strong point!) To add to the misery, the automatic battery charger/inverter was now misbehaving and not charging the batteries at all, an issue we’d not previously noticed. The battery charger does just that; it charges the batteries using shoreside electricity. The inverter changes the DC power in the batteries to AC power, so it can be used to power AC appliances – such as our laptops or food processor – when we’re away from shore side power. Needless to say, this was the beginning of the furtherance of our education in marine electrical systems.

The first thing to do was to empty the starboard cockpit locker, where the battery charger/inverter resides, of all the gear stowed there. Some of you will recall we did a full refit of the boat about 5 years ago at the Hinckley Yacht Services yard in Savannah, GA. I had been in text and telephone conversations with the yard electrician since our arrival in Georgetown. Following his guidance led to our emptying of the locker so I could check the operation of the charger/inverter. I also needed to remove a cockpit deck hatch to access the engine alternator and alternator charge regulator, where we felt the root of our battery charging issues lay. Even after following all of Michel’s (the Hinckley electrician) advice, we still hadn’t resolved the issue.

I had also called some friends and contacts in Charleston, SC. After not having any resolution from our own efforts, and faced with the shortage of available help in Georgetown, Lisa and I decided to backtrack to Charleston to see if we could find some electrical assistance there. It would take us at least one and a half days to make it to south Charleston in the waterway, but this was looking like our best option. With luck, we could have repairs completed by the weekend. Then, I received a message from the Hinckley Yacht Services yard manager.

It turns out that Michel was heading to Myrtle Beach to do some work on a Hinckley customer’s boat which was docked there at the end of the week. Dustin said if we could wait in Georgetown an extra few days, he would have Michel stop at our boat to see if he could resolve the issues. This was the best possible solution; Michel had done the installations and rewiring of JO BETH during the refit. He knows her electrical systems better than anyone.

*This is almost all of the gear removed from the starboard cockpit locker, seen to the left, to access the battery charger/inverter…*

One thing Michel felt may have happened with the battery charger was that the main fuse had blown. The fuse on the charger is not your typical household fuse; it is a heavy and bulky 300 amp beast. Michel suggested I shut down the AC and DC electrical systems completely, then remove the fuse and ohm test it; ‘ohm it out,’ in electrical parlance. The fuse tested to be ‘OK,’ so I reinstalled it and powered up the AC and DC systems. Lo and behold, the battery charger was now working normally! I ran this by Michel, and he believes the unit did a ‘re-set’ when the power was cycled. Fortunately, the charger is still functioning normally.

Michel arrived in the early afternoon the following Thursday and promptly got to work. He verified that the battery charger was indeed functioning correctly. We then shut down the AC power system, isolating JO BETH from shore side power completely. The cockpit deck hatch was removed, and we turned attention to the engine alternator and alternator regulator. After some basic checks and tests, Michel quickly observed the positive wire for the alternator regulator battery temperature sensor was connected to the incorrect terminal on the alternator regulator, while the negative wire was connected properly. We placed the positive wire on the correct terminal and started the engine.

When we disconnect JO BETH from shore power, the charge level voltage of the batteries drops fairly quickly from where the charger was ‘float’ charging, (presuming the batteries are fully charged), to the ‘operational’ full charge level. From there, you can watch the available battery voltage drop as the various DC powered systems on the boat – the refrigerator/freezer, stereo, lights, navigational electronics, etc., all consume power. If the engine isn’t running, our solar panels promptly switch on (if the sun is out!) once shore power is disconnected and begin supplying the batteries with power. If the engine is running, the solar charge controller senses this, and shuts off the panels so power isn’t hitting the batteries from both the panels and the alternator. So far, all seemed well.

Having the cockpit deck hatch open with the engine running also gave me the opportunity to monitor our Racor fuel filter vacuum levels. Many of you will recall our recent fuel issues. The Racor vacuum gauge still showed a positive reading, meaning the fuel filter is not sufficiently ‘clogged’ so that the fuel pumps have to ‘pull’ harder to get fuel through the filter system and to the engine. This was good news!

As the engine ran and the alternator charged the batteries, Michel monitored output voltage from the alternator as I stared at the engine control panel to see if the battery light activated. Fortunately, all seemed to be functioning well. The alternator output voltage peaked, and then dropped to the float charge levels where it should be. We switched on various instruments; the chartplotter and RADAR, lights, etc., to put an increased load demand on the batteries. After an hour or so with no issues, we shut the engine down and declared a cautionary win. Michel was curious as to why we never heard an audible alarm when the battery light on the control panel activated. The engine temperature and oil pressure lights sound an alarm when they activate. A quick trace of the wiring diagram revealed the battery light has no alarm. At night, the light coming on is very obvious, but in daylight, the light is difficult to see unless one is looking directly at the panel when it activates.

We also discovered we had not been shutting down the AC power side correctly when disconnecting JO BETH from shore side power. The procedure we followed was to turn off the AC power inside the boat, then shut down the power at the dock, and then unplug the shore power cable. Often, we had the engine running when doing this. It turns out, this was a likely cause of the early demise of our batteries, which we had to replace in Port Canaveral, Florida after departing the Keys this past spring. Also, we learned we were not completely shutting down the battery charger/inverter. As I mentioned earlier, our battery charger and inverter are a combined charger and inverter, and not two separate units. I was under the impression that turning off the breaker at the AC electrical panel in the boat shut down the charger/inverter completely. It does shut off the charger side, but the inverter side remains ‘powered’ on, as the inverter is directly connected to the batteries. There is a switch at the charger/inverter which we should have been turning off to completely shut off and isolate the inverter when the engine alternator and/or solar panels are doing the charging and the inverter is not in use. We thought this was an ‘emergency’ shut off switch and had been leaving it on continuously!

Essentially, this was creating a constant draw on the batteries while either the battery charger, solar panels, or alternator were trying to charge and stabilize them. Considering the power being pulled from the batteries for running electronics, the refrigerator/freezer, lights, etc., it’s no wonder the batteries gave up the ghost off of Canaveral when they should have only been through 1/3 of their average service life. Fortunately, the problems do seem to be resolved. Lesson learned. And while I’m not ready to declare the electrical gremlins smote entirely, things have greatly improved.

During the rest of our time in Georgetown, we wandered the town on foot. We had a delicious lunch at a small Italian Bistro with an absolutely amazing pork cacciatore soup. I jokingly asked our server if the chef would share the recipe, and to our surprise, the chef came to our table and gave us step by step instructions on how to make it! We explored the South Carolina Maritime Museum, a wonderful and well curated museum with an emphasis on the maritime history surrounding the middle South Carolina Coast. We also strolled through neighborhoods and to the commercial fish docks, where we bought fresh shrimp and triggerfish fillets straight off the boat.

*JO BETH, on the morning of our departure from Georgetown, SC*

We left Georgetown, SC on Sunday morning, August 15, staying in the Intracoastal Waterway to run under power and monitor the battery charging issues. Also, there was no wind, and we would be moving under motor power whether we were ‘outside’ in the ocean or in the waterway. The upside of staying inside was, if we had an issue with the batteries and had to shut down in the waterway, towing assistance would much closer. Another upside is this was new territory for us to explore.

As we left Winyah Bay behind and moved into the Waccamaw River, the landscape began to change. Verdant green marshes no longer bordered the river banks. We found ourselves passing through fragrant cypress forests, often through such narrow channels, I wondered if our mast and rigging would clear the branches of the trees. The river banks were quite steep, at times giving us the impression we were boating through a ravine. We were also curious to know if this stretch of the Waccamaw was more fresh water than brackish water, as we weren’t seeing seabirds such as pelicans, terns, and the like. We did see a lot of ospreys and bald eagles, as well as American Alligators.

*Cypress forests along the Wacamaw River in South Carolina*

Sunday started under a hot and hazy sun, and by the time we were 10 miles or so north of Georgetown, we heard the rumble of thunder not too far away. The skies to the west and southwest became dark gray, with curtains of rain angling downward. Sprinkles soon started falling as we passed the communities of Pawley’s Island, Murrel’s Inlet, and Waccawache Mar. When we reached the community of Bucksport, the waterway had curved quite far inland, nearly 10 miles from the coast. From there, it slowly angles back to the east. At Socastee, we passed through our first swing bridge. A swing bridge is a type of draw bridge. Instead of the bridge spans raising up to allow vessels to pass, a swing bridge ‘swings’ on a pedestal, which is typically mounted to one side of the channel, but sometimes in the middle. When fully open, the span of the bridge parallels the waterway channel. We would pass through several more swing bridges as we moved north.

For most of the day, it sprinkled. We had one rain shower lasting perhaps 45 minutes. The cloud cover kept things reasonably cool. As we passed the Socastee community, vessel traffic on the waterway began to increase significantly. Mostly, these were pontoon boats and jet skis, with a few small fishing boats. As we closed in on the Myrtle Beach area, boats towing wakeboards, skiers, and tubers increased exponentially.

I completely understand recreating on the water, and I understand rushes of adrenaline. I’ve skydived, I’ve rock climbed, I’ve done lots of adrenaline charged fun (and stupid!) things in my life. However, I can honestly say that being towed behind a boat at high speed holds zero appeal for me. The boats towing wakeboarders, tubers, etc., were operating in ways which were quite dangerous, particularly to the person being towed. Several times, they cut directly in front of us, often to avoid another boat, swinging the person on the tube, skis, etc., perilously close to us and others. If a skier fell, or a child bounced from a tube in front of JO BETH, we have no hope of stopping. JO BETH weighs in excess of six tons empty. Laden with stores, fuel and water, she weighs even more. Even slamming the engine into reverse gear would do little good with her moving forward at six knots. We would be in the very real position of losing control of the boat, and inertia would still carry her some distance before we would stop fully. Fortunately, nothing of any consequence happened, but it had Lisa and I on edge for hours. Otherwise, it was the usual inexperienced, ignorant, and inconsiderate boaters and jet skiers that kept our annoyance levels elevated.

The Intracoastal Waterway in the Myrtle Beach area is largely an arrow straight canal, or ‘ditch’ as it is often referred to, and anchorage areas are non-existent. We stopped for the night in Myrtle Beach at the Marina at Grande Dunes. We had a quick dinner at the marina café, and were soon back aboard JO BETH, tired from a long day.

Monday morning, we were off early, bound for Southport, North Carolina, where we planned to wait out forecasted bad weather, provision, and now that the electrical issues seemed to be behind us, rest and relax. After powering for nearly 100 miles, we had experienced zero issues. Fingers and toes crossed.

Before we were clear of Myrtle Beach, we had a challenging stretch of waterway to pass through. Known as the ‘rockpiles,’ it is an approximately three mile long section which is very narrow; so narrow in fact, that two vessels would not be able to pass safely without a high risk of grounding. If there was a larger commercial vessel in the channel, such as a tug or shrimp trawler, it would not be possible to pass at all. The channel was blasted through a solid vein of granite when the waterway was constructed some 100 years ago. The result is a narrow, but reasonably deep channel, lined with exposed and hidden jagged granite ledges and boulders. Vessels entering the rockpiles are requested to announce their transit of the area on VHF radio channel 16, the general hailing/emergency frequency, and channel 13, the frequency monitored and used by commercial vessels. The announcements are made by calling ‘Security,’ (pronounced ‘securi-tay’), repeated three times, and the vessel’s intentions. Ours sounded something like this:

“Security, security, security, hello all stations, hello all stations, hello all stations. This is sailing vessel JO BETH, northbound Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway, entering the rockpiles, now passing marker Green 21. All concerned traffic, contact sailing vessel JO BETH on channels 16 or 13. This is sailing vessel JO BETH, standing by channels 16 and 13. Out.”

Fortunately, we had no responses to our call and encountered no other boats in the dreaded rockpiles.

We’re now docked in Southport, NC, once again waiting out more bad weather and watching Tropical Storm Henri closely. We shouldn’t have any real impacts here from Henri, just some squally weather and very big waves emanating from the storm’s passage to our east. We’re thinking of friends in New England and wish them well. Storms are no fun.

As a result of all the delays we’ve experienced this season, we’ve changed our plans. We had initially been sailing for New England, and as that became less likely, we were hoping to make the Chesapeake. Now with further delays brought about from the continuing electrical issues and bad weather, we’ve decided to slow our pace and spend the remainder of the summer cruising the sounds and coastal areas of North Carolina. There’s enough cruising and sailing here to take up an entire summer season, so we should be good. New England, the Chesapeake, all of those areas will be there in the coming seasons.

Until next time.