[Cap'n Dave's log]
Hi! Everyone:
It’s been over one year since you received tales of our travels on Raven. We are on the move again.
We arrived in New Bern, NC, in October 2006, in time for the Southbound Cruisers’ Rendezvous. After six months of living aboard and over 4000 miles under the keel (from Galveston, TX, to Islesboro, ME, and back south to North Carolina) we were exhausted and ready for a break. We became enchanted by New Bern and early in 2007 decided to settle there. Our vision included part time jobs and time to sail on Pamlico Sound. Reality became more and more like the life we had left behind: long hours, no time off, and this time for little pay. When the Sheraton Marina doubled the dockage fees, we would have had to give up downtown living and add a commute to our lives. Enough! We began to convert Raven from live-aboard mode to cruising mode. Stuff had to be sorted, pared down, and stored. Maintenance that I’d ignored for too long had to be done. We got it all done just before the rate increase came into effect. We left Friday, November 30th, 2007.
The trip down the Neuse River was in sunshine but very cold. The air temp was 58 °F and the chilling effects of a 15 knot breeze easily penetrated our clothes. We toughed it out, enjoying the brilliant colors and the familiar scenery. Raven’s cabin was still a shambles, with clutter everywhere. All those last-minute “essential” supplies that hadn’t yet found permanent homes were scattered on settees, the vee berth, and the cabin sole. I knew that we’d sort it all out eventually – or heave them all overboard.
We turned into the Adams Creek Canal and settled into Cedar Creek for the night. One boat was already there and two more followed us in. It was wonderfully quiet, almost too quiet, causing our ears to ring. The familiar traffic sounds from Highway 70 had disappeared, replaced with bird calls and the gentle slap of water against the hull. We slept deep and hard.
We woke with the sun and got under way first thing. We find that having breakfast at anchor makes for a disproportionately late start. We prefer to get going, then enjoy breakfast as a warming snack as we travel. The air is always chill on the face at this time of year, so a hot cup of tea or coffee heats us from the inside.
Adams Creek Canal is relatively undeveloped compared to much of the Intracoastal Waterway. Other sections of the ICW are about as natural as Disney World. Large houses lie side by side, each one challenging Snow White’s Castle for grandeur. Many of them appear to be unoccupied; the yards are bare and no lights burn inside.
We negotiated Morehead City, passing under Highway 17 and past the large silos and warehouses. Both landmarks had become familiar to us on road trips to Beaufort, a town as charming as New Bern.
Just before dark, we turned into the harbor at Swansboro. We anchored between red #4 and the road bridge, per cruising guide instructions, but I doubt that we were out of the channel, as suggested. The waterfront buildings reminded me of Rockport, MA. At night, the windows were lit like a decorative Christmas village. We didn’t look too hard, instead preferring to hover over our little propane heater below. It was mighty cold.
We left Swansboro on Sunday morning at 0730, surprised at that hour to be the last of three boats to leave. We had no good plan for an anchorage that night. The closer of two possibilities was Sloop Point, which on the chart looked like swamp in the middle of nowhere, with a narrow, tricky, poorly marked channel. Further on was an nice looking anchorage at Wrightsville Beach, at the end of Motts Channel, which appeared to be narrow but well marked. It would be a late arrival, after dark. That became one element in our running aground.
Early that day, we managed to bump the keel at Green #61A. It was a temporary mark that indicated shoaling from an inlet. We found a way through about two boat lengths from the mark. It was, apparently, positioned in shallow water. S/v Gem, one of the two boats at anchor overnight in Swansboro was kind enough to hail us with a warning while they waited for the Onslow Beach Bridge to open. Their warning allowed us to slow to a crawl, so backing off was easy and I just gently tried different spots until Raven eased through.
After Surf City Bridge, which we timed to perfection, we came upon Sloop Point. It was as uninviting as we had feared, so we pressed on to Wrightsville Beach, undeterred by an arrival after dark. By setting waypoints for Figure Eight Island and Wrightsville Beach bridges into the GPS, we were able to arrive at each just prior to their scheduled openings. At the latter, I was already concerned by how dark it was, in spite of the city lights. Only a few hundred yards after passing the bridge I made the left turn into Motts Channel. I don’t know if the current carried us faster than I anticipated or if I was confused by the chart plotter being set to show “track up” instead of “north up”, but I made the turn at Green 25 too wide and put us hard aground. I could swing Raven to port or starboard using the rudder in forward, but she wouldn’t budge in reverse. We were broadside in the channel and clearly a hazard. I called Tow Boat US on the VHF and thirty minutes later we were secure at Dockside Marina and Restaurant, a mere 100 yards across the ICW from our grounding.
I can’t speak too highly of Tow Boat US, or of Boat US insurance. Each year, we cough up $120 for unlimited towing insurance. It is one of the few bills I don’t mind paying. I try not to use it, of course, but I was glad of it on this occasion. The bill for thirty minutes work was almost $600: time, gasoline, wear and tear for towing, and a premium for Sunday evening, I expect. The operator was cheerful and, more to the point, skillful. He passed me the one-inch polypropylene line, with instructions to attach it to something substantial. On Raven, that meant through a bow chock to one of the 8” bronze, foredeck cleats. Everything about a Cape Dory is “substantial” but I was momentarily worried when Raven tipped to twenty degrees or so as the bow was pulled around.
We enjoyed a couple of beers each in the restaurant bar, then walked back down the ramp to the fuel dock where Raven was dwarfed by a 70’ motor yacht tied within ten feet of her transom. Hilde rustled up some wonderful hot food and we were soon asleep, from too much excitement and good living.
Some early Monday morning rain arrived with very mild air, although the breeze was strong. We checked the weather forecast and decided it was better to travel when the air is warm and take our lumps with the gusts. We topped up the water tanks and dumped our trash. Neither diesel nor a pump out was available, but we were not desperate for either. We had been cruising with (our engine) Big Blue turning at only 2000 rpm, burning only half a gallon of fuel every hour. Just before we shoved off, Chris, a friend from New Bern, passed by on m/v Victory. He yelled greetings to us and we chatted on the VHF. Shoaling was bad at Masonboro Inlet, where Chris ran aground and was rescued by Tow Boat US. I got Raven through with one minor bump. My muscles were taught as bow strings, my dreading having to be rescued by Tow Boat US two days in a row. All was well until Carolina Beach Inlet, where Raven hit hard on the shoaling, marked by a temporary red buoy #152A, that forced us into the blue shallows of the chart plotter, far from the magenta line that indicates center channel. I was horrified, fearing my nightmare was coming true by the minute. This time, Raven backed off OK and I tried going by on the wrong side, closer to the magenta line. No go! I could see the shoaling across the supposed channel. I tried again, leaving the mark to starboard. No go! Was this an ICW mark or a returning channel marker for the inlet? There was no yellow reflective patch denoting an ICW mark. The reflective patch was red, which on a red buoy didn’t make any sense. Finally, with the red buoy about a boat length off starboard, Raven seemed to bump her way through. We touched several times, sometimes feeling like we were atop two sand ridges. It was not a good time, although I was hugely relieved once we were though.
We selected Pipeline Canal, just past Southport, as our anchorage for Monday night. It is “dog friendly”, according to the cruising guide and we didn’t want to force (our Schnauzer) Schnitzel to “explode” as she’d had to on Sunday. The current in Swansboro had been too strong for my dubious rowing skill, so Schnitzel had had to “bottle it” for over twenty-four hours. Our outboard motor had croaked our first night out. The fuel contained water and sludge. I managed to remove and clean the carburetor on the bridge deck, while we were under way and the weather was warm. I was delighted when the motor roared into life.
The cruising guide also mentioned a submerged dam at the entrance to Pipeline Canal. By this time I was phobic about running aground, but I was encouraged by our estimated arrival exactly at high tide. We entered the canal with three feet under the keel and discovered a beautiful, protected anchorage. Protection was a high priority since it had been blowing a steady 25 knots all afternoon, with gusts over 30. Although it was the peak of high tide, the flood was still running west into the ICW against the strong west wind, causing two feet tall standing waves that all but stopped our progress as we chugged west along the channel, with Big Blue spinning at 2500 rpm. Our run down the Cape Fear River from Carolina Beach to Southport had been a thrilling motor sail into the wind. The staysail helped us against the flooding tide but caused Raven to heel 20 degrees. At least on this stretch the wind and current were running together. It was huge fun to use the many lighted range marks, just like the big ships.
We had terrible trouble setting the anchor in the basin. After five tries with the CQR, we abandoned it in favor of the Danforth. It, too, refused to set, even with careful lowering by hand. Finally, I added twenty feet of chain between rode and shank. The extra weight kept the shank low and we haven’t budged since.
Tuesday, December 5th, 2007, we stood down and relaxed. We took Schnitzel ashore mid morning; the dinghy motor worked great. We walked the shoreline of the canal. We took the dinghy up the canal for a joy ride.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007, we again took Schnitzel for her morning walk along the canal, ending up at the entrance from the ICW. We stood in the still-brisk breeze and watched three motor yachts and one 40 foot plus sailboat chug their ways westbound. So far, so good!
My salient memories of the trip from New Bern so far must be the multiple groundings, more in the last few days than in many years of sailing. It is an inevitable part of the experience and usually not life-threatening. Nonetheless, my neck and shoulder muscles are still tense from hours at the helm, willing Raven safe passage through obviously dubious channels. It has convinced us to avoid Georgia’s ICW, especially since the entire state is under severe drought conditions. Weather-permitting, we shall hop from Beaufort, SC, to St. Mary’s River, on the Georgia-Florida state line.
Best regards to you all.
Hi! Everyone:
It’s been over one year since you received tales of our travels on Raven. We are on the move again.
We arrived in New Bern, NC, in October 2006, in time for the Southbound Cruisers’ Rendezvous. After six months of living aboard and over 4000 miles under the keel (from Galveston, TX, to Islesboro, ME, and back south to North Carolina) we were exhausted and ready for a break. We became enchanted by New Bern and early in 2007 decided to settle there. Our vision included part time jobs and time to sail on Pamlico Sound. Reality became more and more like the life we had left behind: long hours, no time off, and this time for little pay. When the Sheraton Marina doubled the dockage fees, we would have had to give up downtown living and add a commute to our lives. Enough! We began to convert Raven from live-aboard mode to cruising mode. Stuff had to be sorted, pared down, and stored. Maintenance that I’d ignored for too long had to be done. We got it all done just before the rate increase came into effect. We left Friday, November 30th, 2007.
The trip down the Neuse River was in sunshine but very cold. The air temp was 58 °F and the chilling effects of a 15 knot breeze easily penetrated our clothes. We toughed it out, enjoying the brilliant colors and the familiar scenery. Raven’s cabin was still a shambles, with clutter everywhere. All those last-minute “essential” supplies that hadn’t yet found permanent homes were scattered on settees, the vee berth, and the cabin sole. I knew that we’d sort it all out eventually – or heave them all overboard.
We turned into the Adams Creek Canal and settled into Cedar Creek for the night. One boat was already there and two more followed us in. It was wonderfully quiet, almost too quiet, causing our ears to ring. The familiar traffic sounds from Highway 70 had disappeared, replaced with bird calls and the gentle slap of water against the hull. We slept deep and hard.
We woke with the sun and got under way first thing. We find that having breakfast at anchor makes for a disproportionately late start. We prefer to get going, then enjoy breakfast as a warming snack as we travel. The air is always chill on the face at this time of year, so a hot cup of tea or coffee heats us from the inside.
Adams Creek Canal is relatively undeveloped compared to much of the Intracoastal Waterway. Other sections of the ICW are about as natural as Disney World. Large houses lie side by side, each one challenging Snow White’s Castle for grandeur. Many of them appear to be unoccupied; the yards are bare and no lights burn inside.
We negotiated Morehead City, passing under Highway 17 and past the large silos and warehouses. Both landmarks had become familiar to us on road trips to Beaufort, a town as charming as New Bern.
Just before dark, we turned into the harbor at Swansboro. We anchored between red #4 and the road bridge, per cruising guide instructions, but I doubt that we were out of the channel, as suggested. The waterfront buildings reminded me of Rockport, MA. At night, the windows were lit like a decorative Christmas village. We didn’t look too hard, instead preferring to hover over our little propane heater below. It was mighty cold.
We left Swansboro on Sunday morning at 0730, surprised at that hour to be the last of three boats to leave. We had no good plan for an anchorage that night. The closer of two possibilities was Sloop Point, which on the chart looked like swamp in the middle of nowhere, with a narrow, tricky, poorly marked channel. Further on was an nice looking anchorage at Wrightsville Beach, at the end of Motts Channel, which appeared to be narrow but well marked. It would be a late arrival, after dark. That became one element in our running aground.
Early that day, we managed to bump the keel at Green #61A. It was a temporary mark that indicated shoaling from an inlet. We found a way through about two boat lengths from the mark. It was, apparently, positioned in shallow water. S/v Gem, one of the two boats at anchor overnight in Swansboro was kind enough to hail us with a warning while they waited for the Onslow Beach Bridge to open. Their warning allowed us to slow to a crawl, so backing off was easy and I just gently tried different spots until Raven eased through.
After Surf City Bridge, which we timed to perfection, we came upon Sloop Point. It was as uninviting as we had feared, so we pressed on to Wrightsville Beach, undeterred by an arrival after dark. By setting waypoints for Figure Eight Island and Wrightsville Beach bridges into the GPS, we were able to arrive at each just prior to their scheduled openings. At the latter, I was already concerned by how dark it was, in spite of the city lights. Only a few hundred yards after passing the bridge I made the left turn into Motts Channel. I don’t know if the current carried us faster than I anticipated or if I was confused by the chart plotter being set to show “track up” instead of “north up”, but I made the turn at Green 25 too wide and put us hard aground. I could swing Raven to port or starboard using the rudder in forward, but she wouldn’t budge in reverse. We were broadside in the channel and clearly a hazard. I called Tow Boat US on the VHF and thirty minutes later we were secure at Dockside Marina and Restaurant, a mere 100 yards across the ICW from our grounding.
I can’t speak too highly of Tow Boat US, or of Boat US insurance. Each year, we cough up $120 for unlimited towing insurance. It is one of the few bills I don’t mind paying. I try not to use it, of course, but I was glad of it on this occasion. The bill for thirty minutes work was almost $600: time, gasoline, wear and tear for towing, and a premium for Sunday evening, I expect. The operator was cheerful and, more to the point, skillful. He passed me the one-inch polypropylene line, with instructions to attach it to something substantial. On Raven, that meant through a bow chock to one of the 8” bronze, foredeck cleats. Everything about a Cape Dory is “substantial” but I was momentarily worried when Raven tipped to twenty degrees or so as the bow was pulled around.
We enjoyed a couple of beers each in the restaurant bar, then walked back down the ramp to the fuel dock where Raven was dwarfed by a 70’ motor yacht tied within ten feet of her transom. Hilde rustled up some wonderful hot food and we were soon asleep, from too much excitement and good living.
Some early Monday morning rain arrived with very mild air, although the breeze was strong. We checked the weather forecast and decided it was better to travel when the air is warm and take our lumps with the gusts. We topped up the water tanks and dumped our trash. Neither diesel nor a pump out was available, but we were not desperate for either. We had been cruising with (our engine) Big Blue turning at only 2000 rpm, burning only half a gallon of fuel every hour. Just before we shoved off, Chris, a friend from New Bern, passed by on m/v Victory. He yelled greetings to us and we chatted on the VHF. Shoaling was bad at Masonboro Inlet, where Chris ran aground and was rescued by Tow Boat US. I got Raven through with one minor bump. My muscles were taught as bow strings, my dreading having to be rescued by Tow Boat US two days in a row. All was well until Carolina Beach Inlet, where Raven hit hard on the shoaling, marked by a temporary red buoy #152A, that forced us into the blue shallows of the chart plotter, far from the magenta line that indicates center channel. I was horrified, fearing my nightmare was coming true by the minute. This time, Raven backed off OK and I tried going by on the wrong side, closer to the magenta line. No go! I could see the shoaling across the supposed channel. I tried again, leaving the mark to starboard. No go! Was this an ICW mark or a returning channel marker for the inlet? There was no yellow reflective patch denoting an ICW mark. The reflective patch was red, which on a red buoy didn’t make any sense. Finally, with the red buoy about a boat length off starboard, Raven seemed to bump her way through. We touched several times, sometimes feeling like we were atop two sand ridges. It was not a good time, although I was hugely relieved once we were though.
We selected Pipeline Canal, just past Southport, as our anchorage for Monday night. It is “dog friendly”, according to the cruising guide and we didn’t want to force (our Schnauzer) Schnitzel to “explode” as she’d had to on Sunday. The current in Swansboro had been too strong for my dubious rowing skill, so Schnitzel had had to “bottle it” for over twenty-four hours. Our outboard motor had croaked our first night out. The fuel contained water and sludge. I managed to remove and clean the carburetor on the bridge deck, while we were under way and the weather was warm. I was delighted when the motor roared into life.
The cruising guide also mentioned a submerged dam at the entrance to Pipeline Canal. By this time I was phobic about running aground, but I was encouraged by our estimated arrival exactly at high tide. We entered the canal with three feet under the keel and discovered a beautiful, protected anchorage. Protection was a high priority since it had been blowing a steady 25 knots all afternoon, with gusts over 30. Although it was the peak of high tide, the flood was still running west into the ICW against the strong west wind, causing two feet tall standing waves that all but stopped our progress as we chugged west along the channel, with Big Blue spinning at 2500 rpm. Our run down the Cape Fear River from Carolina Beach to Southport had been a thrilling motor sail into the wind. The staysail helped us against the flooding tide but caused Raven to heel 20 degrees. At least on this stretch the wind and current were running together. It was huge fun to use the many lighted range marks, just like the big ships.
We had terrible trouble setting the anchor in the basin. After five tries with the CQR, we abandoned it in favor of the Danforth. It, too, refused to set, even with careful lowering by hand. Finally, I added twenty feet of chain between rode and shank. The extra weight kept the shank low and we haven’t budged since.
Tuesday, December 5th, 2007, we stood down and relaxed. We took Schnitzel ashore mid morning; the dinghy motor worked great. We walked the shoreline of the canal. We took the dinghy up the canal for a joy ride.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007, we again took Schnitzel for her morning walk along the canal, ending up at the entrance from the ICW. We stood in the still-brisk breeze and watched three motor yachts and one 40 foot plus sailboat chug their ways westbound. So far, so good!
My salient memories of the trip from New Bern so far must be the multiple groundings, more in the last few days than in many years of sailing. It is an inevitable part of the experience and usually not life-threatening. Nonetheless, my neck and shoulder muscles are still tense from hours at the helm, willing Raven safe passage through obviously dubious channels. It has convinced us to avoid Georgia’s ICW, especially since the entire state is under severe drought conditions. Weather-permitting, we shall hop from Beaufort, SC, to St. Mary’s River, on the Georgia-Florida state line.
Best regards to you all.
1 comment:
Hey, one blog tip from a 3 yr blogger. For what it's worth, I find that shorter more frequent posts are preferable to longer less frequent ones. :-)
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