November 6, 2015 Entry
Rain, rain go away, come again
another day, Steve and Emily want to play!
We spent Halloween evening with
Emily’s high school friend Suzanne Bledsole and her husband Ray. Suzanne drove all the way from Washington, NC to Bath to pick us up. Upon arrival at their
house she introduced us to their little dogs Dixie and Roxie, who are not
really dogs at all but actual tiny human beings dressed in white cashmere
sweaters posing as dogs.
Captain Emily and Her Friend Suzanne and the Imposter Dogs, Roxie and Dixie
That evening Ray treated us to a brilliantly prepared,
scrumptious spaghetti dinner. We were joined by Jan, Suzanne’s sister, who,
during the course of the evening, in response to my observation that southern
people did not listen to any music generated by folks north of the Mason Dixon
Line, exclaimed, “What would be the point of that?”
I could not have said it better.
After much fine conversation and
laughter, we decamped to a wonderfully comfortable bed for the night.
On Sunday we took the Bledsoles’
out for breakfast at a locally popular Waffle House where we each ate
twenty-five pounds of bacon, sausage, grits, waffles and hash brown potatoes. We
went back to their comfortable home which, by the way, is filled with original
paintings done by Suzanne herself. Ray gave us the remainder of last evening’s
feast, complete with fine bread and chocolates for desert. Then they drove us
back to Bath. As we parted, Ray expressed his fervent hope was that it would
rain so he would not have to resume painting the house.
What fine people!
The plan – early to bed, early to
rise - pick up a rental car Monday morning and drive to Greenville, NC to see
our dear friend Paul Rogers.
That night it began to rain and
it didn’t stop for three days. At luck would have it, we sprang a leak
somewhere on deck. Water found its way into the cabin and steadily dripped into
a cabinet housing some of Flicka’s electronics. Not good. The only way to
capture the drip was to use a small bowl, the only container that would fit in
that small space, a bowl that had to be emptied quite often depending on how
hard it rained, which was in fact quite often.
A sleepless night was had by all.
But we survived. Caught a little
break the in the morning when the rain tapered off a bit. Our friend Dale at
Enterprise Car Rental picked us up and we were able to once again invade the
Bledsole home, this time to do some laundry. The local health department was
called in and they had to cordon off a four block area as we moved the
seething, smelly mass into the house and directly to the washing machine, which
I suspect had to be repaired after we left.
Then of course it started raining
again in earnest, which meant we had to skedaddle back to Flicka to resume bowl
emptying duty. We could not leave Flicka alone under those circumstances and I
could not fix the leak properly until the damn rain stopped.
So that Monday evening was more
of the same – bowl emptying.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015. The
intrepid Captain Emily suggested that she continue bowl emptying and that I
drive to Greenville to see Paul, which is what I did. And a very fine visit it
was indeed! Paul and I go way back - to the mid-seventies and wild Nags Head,
NC days. Maybe someday I will talk of those days.
Today Paul is an inspiration
indeed, living with multiple scherosis for much of his adult life but not ever
letting it get the best of him. And his care giver, Linda, is a greater
inspiration, if that is possible, for she has been by his side for a great long
time, dutifully seeing to his daily needs.
Paul and his Faithful Caregiver Linda
I returned to Flicka that
evening, the rain tapered off a bit and we went to have a square pizza at
Blackbeard’s Slices and Ices in greater downtown Bath.
November 4, Wednesday we got up
early and were greeted by four river otter (Lontra canadensis) swimming around
the dock. These feisty and comical creatures climbed a piling to gain access to
the dock where they cavorted shamelessly, exploring every nook and cranny and
smelling one another frequently. What a treat.
Later in the day we ask a local
gentleman, out walking his dog, whether we were in fact seeing otter and he
confirmed that yes we were and they were quite common in the area. He
complained that they steal bait out of crab pots, that bait being fish, which
otter have been known to enjoy. Imagine the nerve of those bowlegged bandits!
The obvious solution is it
exterminate these damnable creatures where ever they are found.
Later we went shopping, returned
the car, boarded Flicka and, of course, it began to rain in earnest again. Bowl
emptying duty continued and became part of our normal routine.
Undaunted, we untied from the
free state dock at noon, said farewell to Bath, NC, motored out into Bath
Creek, then headed down the Pamlico River under leaden skies and spitting rain,
with slight east winds and rising temperatures. We passed Indian Island to starboard and turned into Goose Creek and
motored into Campbell Creek where we anchored at 1630 under clearing skies.
Indian Island in the Pamlico River in the Fog
Thursday, November 5, 2015
We left Campbell Creek late,
after all other boats, and motored out under grey skies to the Upper Spring
Creek Bay River Canal where we passed under the Hobucken Bridge and by Mayo
Seafood, where one can buy fresh sea scallops the size of dinner plates. Each
scallop weighs approximately twenty-five pounds. You must use a machete to cut
them up. Lightly sautéed in butter, garlic, lemon and a touch of white wine
they are ‘tasty and expeditious’.
R E Mayo Seafood
Shrimp Boat at Mayo's
We passed Mayo’s in the rain and
entered the Bay River and skirted Pamlico Sound with a dark and foreboding
storm gathering in the east. We made haste up the Neuse River, turned into
Adams Creek and ducked into Cedar Creek for the night, where our friend Neil on
Full Moon joined us shortly thereafter.
Gathering Storm
Later
Friday, November 6, 2015
Left
Cedar Creek at 0700 bound for Swansboro, NC. Entered Adams Creek Canal and
stopped at Sea Gate Marina for fuel.
Soon after leaving Sea Gate we were treated to a sectacular sight as a bottle nose dolphin, our first of the trip, lept straight up into the air. We both saw it happen. Assuming the animal is about six feet long and his tail looked to be four feet above the water, and me being a very astute mathamathtician, that means he (or she) lept about ten verticle feet. It could have been ten miles for all I know.
I have never seen that behavior in the wild. That is usually something you see trained dolphins do.
I suppose he was fishing, or maybe just plain enjoying himself. Maybe both.
We entered the Newport River and motored into
the Morehead City harbor area under sunny skies. Onward into Bogue Sound, a
long, narrow, shallow water body (except the even narrower ICW channel in the
Sound) and on to Swansboro, where we tied to a free dock provided by the good
folks at the Saltwater Grill, famous for it’s she crab bisque, thatere best such
bisque in the universe. If you order the large bowl, do not, I repeat, do not
order anything else. The large bowl is the size of a 1957 Chevy Bel Air Sport
Coupe steering wheel and contains four gallons of the finest she crab bisque
ever assembled.
If there is a heaven, people
there are eating this soup while they flap their wings, sing praises and ask
for another plate of Mayo’s scallops.
Saturday, November 7, 2015. 0600
Winds SW, variable, patchy fog,
brilliant morning sun 68 degrees, outgoing current. All favorable for leaving
the Saltwater Grill dock.
We motored out into the main ICW
channel and within moments were enshrouded in thick fog. Passed Bear Island,
through patches of sun, alternating with thick fog banks. Perspective changes
rapidly in the fog. It’s hard to know whether a boat is approaching or going
away and how big it is. A big power boat suddenly appearing on your stern and
gaining steadily is unsettling, especially in this narrow, shallow, shoaling,
shifting channel.
In response to constant local shoaling
(shifting bottom reacting to wind and tide) the ever vigilant Coast Guard
routinely places temporary buoys marking the shoal areas, to aid boaters in
finding their way, but that does not always ensure uneventful passage, because
the shoaling is a dynamic geologic process.
On our way along we followed
another sailboat and a fifty foot power boat. At one point the sailboat ran
aground and we passed him. Luckily he was able to back down and get off. A few
minutes later the power boat ran aground. That sucker probably displaces fifty
thousand pounds, a heavy mother for sure. We passed, wishing him well. Not much
a little guy like Flicka can do for a boat that big. Luckily he also was able
to get off, using big bow thrusters that give him lots of maneuverability. The
ten minutes or so invested in that maneuvering probably cost him two hundred
dollars in diesel fuel.
Down the line on this run about
five NM (nautical miles) away one encounters the Onslow Swing Bridge, owned and
operated by the United States Marines, thank you very much! Did I mention that
this section of the ICW passes through Marine Corps Camp Lejeune? Lots of
magnificent guys and girls train there to keep at the top of their combat readiness
game (we can only hope). Lejeune property is on both sides of the ICW here,
complete with live firing ranges, coming and going aircraft, amphibious boats
and other cool toys.
This time of the year, south
bound boats like to get to and pass through the bridge as early as possible on
a given day because the next stopping place with any convenient and relatively safe
anchorages is Wrightsville Beach, thirty-five nautical miles distant. Boats
usually politely (and sometimes not so politely) jockey for position and end up
sorting out into an impromptu caravan of sorts.
The trick is to proceed at a speed
that will put one at the bridge at just the right moment so you can pass
through at one of the scheduled on the half hour openings, after requesting
permission to pass. One can calculate arrival time accurately using a GPS chart
plotter, adjusting speed and thus arrive as the bridge opens. If all
approaching boats follow that procedure, life is good.
Nice idea and generally it works
well except when it doesn’t. Some folks just need to be first so they charge
ahead, often leaving others behind to deal with their wakes. Sometimes three or
four boats arrive too early at the bridge and end up burning lots of fuel
playing the unnerving game of ‘avoid the other boats’ while awaiting a
scheduled opening. Once through they drive off in a fury of raw power, throwing
up humongous bow waves, making a routine morning breakfast foray for unsuspecting
great blue herons anything but routine.
But today was good as only three
boats, including Flicka, passed through the bridge in an orderly and valiant fashion.
We went a short distance further
and at 1200 tucked in at Mile Hammock Bay, a neat harbor with room for twenty
boats, part of Camp Lejeune. The marines let boaters stay in this fine little
harbor but you are not allowed ashore, for obvious reasons. They don’t want you
to discover their marijuana growing operations.
The harbor is generally protected
from most winds and is well protected from fetching waters. Fetch is what I do
for my lovely wife all day as in, “Go fetch me another cup of coffee, will you
dear?”, but in a nautical sense it refers to the distance over which waves
travel from their source. The larger that distance the larger the waves become.
Thus in this bay there is very little
fetch. You can have high winds but still be relatively comfortable.
So we came into Mike Hammock Bay
and anchored beside ‘Monday Morning’, a forty foot cat ketch. Which means
firstly that it has two masts. It is a cat because the forward mast is way
forward, very close to the bow. It’s a ketch because the forward mast is taller
than the aft mast. This, of course, is not
to be confused with a cat schooner in which the forward mast is the shorter of
the two.
Right about now, I bet you are
about to have an orgasm.
Monday Morning, a Cat Ketch
But wait, there is more. Later
today we were visited by Monday Morning’s captain, Tom Murphy, who is
seventy-seven years young, single handed and headed for the Bahamas.
That is truly inspiring.
An hour later we were joined by
Neil in Full Moon, who I have written about earlier, who has circumnavigated
planet Earth in his twenty-nine foot sloop, spent this past summer in Nova
Scotia and is now on his way to the Bahamas and beyond.
So here we are, anchored next to
two grand old ‘salts’ with years of cruising experience and a wealth of
knowledge. The sun is setting. A lovely SW wind is blowing. We are having
cocktails. Pork chops are on the grill.
And guess what? The weather
forecast is for winds come around to NNE and picking up considerably as a line
of storms moves through to dump more rain. Tomorrow looks like more of the same
and Monday’s prediction is for heavy rain all day.
Rain, rain go away, come again
another day, Emily and Steve want to play.
Namaste
Sunset over Mile Hammock Bay
