Day 15: Lynnhaven Roads to Portsmouth, VA

Ah, what a good feeling it is to be snugly moored at the Tidewater Yacht Marina, conveniently connected to shore-supplied power and water. I think I'll have to make a habit of visiting a marina at least a couple times a month whenever possible.

I awoke early this morning to strong northeasterly winds (where had they been the previous two days?) I weighed anchor intending to motor the last 20 miles to Portsmouth, but soon realized that to do so would be sort of ungrateful , having cursing the lack of decent wind for the last two days; besides, the ride is far better under sail. As common courtesy, and the threat of deadly force, would dictate, I yielded to the USS Eisenhower at the Bay Bridge Tunnel, then headed up the long Thimble Shoals Channel to Norfolk. I again yielded the right of way to an inbound container ship which blew by as though Alana was standing still, and accepted the greeting of a tug (which was no doubt doing maintenance on its fire pumps, not greeting me) before heading south past the Coast Guard base (where I saw my first CG cutter, Bear, moored) to Portsmouth and the marina.

The marina was ready for me when I arrived, and has so far made a very favorable impression. They really couldn't be more helpful, and the prices are reasonable.

After a tasty cheeseburger at the marina restaurant, I've been staying busy getting the boat squared away for a month at the pier. I'll be doing laundry tomorrow, washing down and taking care of some other details before driving a rental car up to Boston on Sunday to get my car.

Day 14: Finally, Chesapeake Bay

Cape Charles resembles Cape Horn physically, and right now it seems every bit as far away. I have given up on sailing, the winds being locked in exactly the wrong direction, and am now motoring toward Chesapeake Bay. I’m hoping to be safely off Newport News by midnight tonight. I’ll then sleep as long as I like before puttering down to Portsmouth to tie up at the marina.

Last night pasted uneventfully, the first half being glorious (clear skies, 1M+ stars, classic rock music, etc.) and the second being rather uncomfortable. Very heavy dew covered everything, defying even the chamois Mom gave me, and leaving every part of me very wet and clammy. I could barely get my boots off this morning.

I’ve been on the lookout, but so far have not seen much of a picture opportunity. A couple of pelicans were cruising along just above the masthead, but were apparently spooked when I moved below to get the camera. You’ll just have to make do with a picture of my foot.

I have no one to blame but myself, of course, but I’m quickly discovering that the key to successful cruising is the ability (patience) to wait until the weather is in one’s favor. I could easily have stayed another day or two at Breakwater Harbor, but allowed the prospect of getting Alana safely parked in Portsmouth to blur my judgment; I should have waited and just accepted the idea of a couple less days with Jessica.

Just dropped the hook in Lynnhaven Roads, just outside the Bay Bridge Tunnel. I had planned to make it well up into Hampton Roads tonight, but wimped out when I saw all of the inner harbor enveloped in a giant electrical storm. It is now time for a shower and bed; tomorrow’s details can resolve themselves in the morning.

Day 13: Damn You, Winds!

The winds have remained stubbornly out of the south all day. A swing to the west has been in the forecast, but so far, no luck. I'm tacking down the coast, sailing about two miles for every mile I get closer to my destination. I have no doubt that the winds will eventually get better, and I figure that every mile I can bank between now and when they do, is a win for me. The Head and I laid down a trackline about 5 miles off the Delaware coast, but so far Alana has seen little of the trackline (other than to cross is again and again at nearly right angles).

In about an hour I'll be settling down for a warm dinner consisting of Beef Stroganoff, coffee and Mark Levin, followed by a long night of 15-minute naps. Hopefully I'll awaken from one of those naps to find the wind blowing steadily from the west.

I had planned to pull into one of the two navy marinas in the Norfolk area, but instead I've reserved a slip at the Tidewater Yacht Marina in Portsmouth, VA, for a month , starting Saturday, I'll be able to enjoy my trip to Jessica's more, knowing that Alana is not dragging anchor, plus it will spare Dad any unpleasant interaction with the navy folks. A slip will also make it easier for the Panda representative to come and go when he/she attempts to fix Alana's recalcitrant generator.

Day 12: Goodbye NJ, Hello DE

Last night's sail went smoothly enough. The winds were a little fresher than expected, requiring a 1:00 a.m. reef, but given the good progress, I wasn't complaining. Alana sailed 136 miles in 28 hours, averaging 4.8 knots. That number would have been better had yesterday morning not been glassy, but I'll take it.

I arrived at Breakwater Harbor, DE, a part of Harbor of Refuge around 11:00 this morning and discovered that there really is nothing here except a nice big anchorage and a ferry terminal. This harbor falls within a small gap between Cruising Guides, so I didn't really feel too stupid to discover this. I landed the dingy MacArthur-style on a local beach and waded ashore to get gasoline, buy ice and dispose of a bag of trash. Luckily, I found a gas station not too far away which sold block ice, so Alana's refrigerator is happy again. I'm finding that the vagabond lifestyle involves a lot of trudging.

Last night's sleep, which came in 15 minute increments regulated by a kitchen timer, really wasn't very restful. I tried taking a nap this afternoon with no success, so am banking on a good night's rest tonight. Tomorrow's sail will again call for an overnighter, there being no good stopping points between here and the Chesapeake Bay. Friday's weather is forecast to take a turn for the worse, so I need to make sure I can get to some place within Chess Bay by Thursday evening at the latest.

My decision to avoid stopping anywhere on the Jersey coast was validated last night. I got to listen to a 54-foot sail boat go aground in Barnegat Inlet, a place I had been assured could work for me if necessary, and hear a Coast Guard report of a 40-footer sinking in Little Egg Inlet. Staying awake most of the night stinks, but is far preferable to losing one's boat.

Alana is largely squared away for tomorrow's adventure. I'm going to go look at some charts and plan a route south before dinner.

Day 11: Red Sky in the Morning, Sailors Take Warning...

I left Sandy Hook at around 6:30 this morning under a bright red/purple sky and motored out against a flood tide (blessed by a very unusual "bent" rainbow directly overhead). Unfortunately the forecast winds did not present themselves until after a tasty lunch of beef stew on rice, but Alana is now swishing southward at just under 6 knots.

I've amused myself with a good book on Bill Donovan, eating and even a little fishing. I had a good sized fish on briefly (type unknown), but it managed to free itself before I could even get sight of it.

Tonight, I plan to snooze in the cockpit, waking every 20 minutes or so to look around. I have an electronic timer to wake me and I'll be setting up the radar to automatically turn on ever 10 or 20 minutes to look around and alert me if it sees anything.

Tomorrow's winds are predicted to veer to the south, so I think I'll be doing well to reach Harbor of Refuge by sunset. I have no desire to pull into a small, unfamiliar port in the dark, so if I can't get anchored before sunset, I'll either stand off through the night or look for another port further south.

Day 10: New Main Halyard

Sunday was a day spent taking care of some odds and ends to ensure I am just as ready as possible to sail tomorrow. The major project was the replacement of the main halyard, the last piece of running rigging to be replaced since I purchased Alana. The local Atlantic Highlands marine supply store didn't have the 7/16" line I was looking for, though the nice lady did offer to sell me 110 feet of bungee cord. I suppose that a stretchy halyard might lend the sail a self-hoisting quality, but I opted for a more traditional approach which required a hike to West Marine. I had seen a West Marine yesterday while driving around with Katie and decided to walk to it. The 4-mile hike proved a little longer/hotter than I had anticipated, but in the end I did get almost the line I was looking for. Unfortunately they only had line in the same color/pattern as the main sheet, so I'll have to be careful not to drop the sail when all I really want to do is ease out the main.

When I head south tomorrow I plan to stay relatively close to the coast as long as the winds permit. I should be within cell range, so will try and get a blog update published. However, there is every chance that that might not be possible, so please do not attach any tragic significance to a missing blog.

Day 9: New Anchorage

Last night the wind kicked up out of the north, sending large swells rolling down the bay and making Alana's anchorage outside the break wall very uncomfortable. Alana was bucking like a bronco and the dingy, which was moored astern was gyrating like a pole dancer (never seen one, but I'm told they gyrate like no body's business). As soon as the sun came up I moved inside the wall, a location I had previously avoided because I don't care for crowds and don't like to have to worry about anchors dragging, boat collisions, etc.

In the afternoon I got together with Katie, an old Coast Guard friend from my days in Hawaii. We got lunch, then drove out to Fort Hancock on Sandy Hook to explore some of the old structures (the fort was the Army's weapons proving ground before WWI when the weapons grew too powerful and the functions of the facility were moved to the Aberdeen Proving Grounds). We walked around the ruins, then headed up a very nice beach to the point of Sandy Hook. I must admit that this part of NJ is a lot nicer than I expected it to be. We didn't see a single needle or discarded pancreas on the beach, which was nice.

Day 8: Farewell to Mike

This morning my brother Mike and I enjoyed a breakfast at Sissy's before he boarded the ferry for a high-speed trip to Manhattan where he will catch a train back to Beantown. I was sorry to see him go, but understood his need to get back. After saying goodbye, I went to a local laundromat to do some laundry, then cam back to Alana to make preparations for the next leg of this trip.

Careful study of the charts and cruising guides indicates that there really are no appealing anchorages between here in Sandy Hook and Delaware Bay. I'll be saying solo, so it's important that I pick a good weather window, one that will allow Alana's autopilot to handle the majority of the steering while I drink coffee and take naps for a day or two. I've been consulting Windfinder and it looks like a late Monday afternoon departure might make the most sense. Between now and then I'll just keep busy puttering about the boat and perhaps go for a day sail with a friend of mine who now lives in Princeton, NJ.

Day 7: Manhasset, NY to Sandy Hook, NJ

The alarm seemed to go off just a little bit early this morning, doubtless because of yesterday's long exertions. We needed to leave Long Island's Manhasset Bay by 6:30 in order to reach Hells Gate at slack water, and this we did before riding the ebb past Manhattan and out New York Harbor. Near the Throggs Neck Bridge we happened upon my old Coast Guard cutter, CGC Grand Isle, which was anchored, also waiting for slack water. We slid past waving and saying hello, but unfortunately the strong currents kept us too far away for the crewmen to toss over the bag of freshly baked cinnamon rolls they had planned to deliver. Oh well, I still remember how good the tasted.

The transit down the East River went smoothly enough. There were no felons visible at the Rikers Island prison barge, so we didn't get to taunt them, but Mike did get to shake his fist at the mildew-cover United Nations building as we swooped past. After dropping the hook inside Sandy Hook, we headed in to get a good meal featuring plenty of greens, then went on a marginally successful quest for ice. Mike did eventually turn up some crushed ice, but the block ice we had hoped for was not to be found.

This evening will be our last together for a while. Tomorrow Mike hops the ferry to Manhattan where he will catch a train back to Boston where Jean and his two dogs await.

Day 6: Threemile Harbor to Manhasset Bay

This was a long day! After a sunrise departure, Mike and I made our way through Plum Gut, by the mysterious Plum Island (reputed to be a disused biological warfare research facility) and out into Long Island Sound. As advertised, the winds were strong, blowing straight down the sound toward NYC. We made plenty of speed toward our destination, but the steady winds built the following swells to 8-10 feet, making steering difficult and creating a tiring corkscrew motion. We rigged an impromptu drogue using a half-filled bleach bottle which prevented the towed dingy from overtaking Alana on some of the steeper swells. We hand-steered most of the day, eventually reaching our destination of Manhasset, NY just before midnight. It was certainly our most efficient sailing day, 90% of our mileage having been in the direction we wished to travel, and put us within striking distance of NYC.

The motion of the ocean, hunger, and the fatigue of prolonged steering combined to wipe us out. We didn't even bother to eat or do the dishes when we finally got anchored, opting instead to go right to sleep.

Day 5: Cherry Harbor to Threemile Harbor

Today was a "off" day. With weak westerly winds forecast, and a dead generator to contend with, Mike and I decided to take a break, try and square the boat away and maybe even fix the generator. Toward those ends we motored about 5 miles from Cherry Harbor southwest to Threemile Harbor on Long Island.

We were unable to get the generator back up despite a lot of solid-sounding advise from Bob at Panda. I am just going to have to arrange for a technical visit at some point in the not-too-distant future to get it right. The 5 or 6 marinas that are to be found here did not seem to offer many of the services the cruising guide said the would, doubtless due to the passage of Labor Day, but we were able to top off the water tanks and get rid of trash. Everyone was very friendly; they just were not able help us out.

Tomorrow we plan to be out of here at first light to make some serious distance down the sound toward New York City, possibly sailing through the night while the favorable winds hold. There is a lot of rain and strong gusty winds forecast, but at least the wind will be from the right direction. We'll have no refrigeration, but we do have blocks of ice, so we are not despairing. Please do not call 911 just because you don't see a blog update tomorrow night.

It has been great having Mike along. I don't think there has been anything I could not have managed without him, but everything goes so much faster and is greatly simplified by a second pair of hands/eyes. He has been a model crew member and has certainly earned the dinner I am making for us this evening.

Day 4: Jamestown, RI to Cherry Harbor, NY

Today started out great, but has deteriorated ever since. We left just before sunrise and were making pretty good progress down the sound before contrary currents and winds took their toll. We ended up traveling close to 70 miles to cover the 32 direct miles between our anchorages. That stunk, but the worst news is that Alana's problematic generator against seems to be on the fritz. It worked fine this morning, but refuses to start this evening. I'll be calling technical assistance in the morning, but am not hopeful. The main impact of no generator will be no refrigeration. That's not the end of the world, but it certainly isn't what either Mike or I bargained for. I'm too tired and angry to write more just now. Perhaps I'll wake up soon and discover that this was just a bad dream.

Day 3: Sippican to Jamestown, RI

Having seen a forecast which called for light westerlies in the afternoon, we left Sippican a little before sunrise in order to make some mileage before the projected afternoon lull. As it turned there was plenty of wind, almost too much at times, and getting to Jamestown before sunset proved to be pretty easy. We actually enjoyed some sunshine today which allowed us to dry some wet and/or damp clothing, giving Alan somewhat of a Haitian freighter look.

Mike made turkey sandwiches for lunch, sandwiches which contained particularly good pickles, and I am on the hook for dinner tonight. The options would be a little more appealing had I not forgotten all our green vegetables, but at least so far there is no sign of scurvy.

Tomorrow's forecast calls for light, variable and contrary winds. We are keeping our fingers, all 7.5 of them, crossed that the forecasters will get it wrong again.

Day 2: Provincetown to Sippican Harbor

I don't think either of us slept too well last night. The on-and-off rain made it necessary to keep things more buttoned up than I would have liked and made for a clammy night of tossing and turning. I have used this anchorage before so didn't have any real concerns about the anchor dragging, but still got up a couple of times to look around. I can't completely trust the GPS anchor alarm and I suppose that to do so would invite disaster. I'm not sure what this morning holds. Mike talked about going ashore to go for a run, but given the weather and the fact that we are both dragging ass a little; I suspect it will not happen.

We left P'town just before lunch and had a very smooth ride across Cape Cod Bay to the canal. We timed our arrival at the canal to coincide with the start of the ebb, so had a strong current pushing us along. We dealt with some heavy rains, mostly once we were into Buzzards Bay, but never totally lost sight of where we were going. We made an abortive effort to find a spot to anchor in Sippican's designated anchorage, but found it already jammed to capacity. I had spoken to the harbormaster this morning and was told there would be plenty of room. I believe his exact words were, "You can put 30 boats in there." It looked to Mike and me that there were at least 45 already there when we arrived, so we moved a little south, away from everyone else and dropped the hook just before the arrival of a pretty good electrical storm.

Day 1: Salem to Provincetown

Today, at 0939 EDT my brother Mike and I finally departed from Salem on what will eventually evolve into a long trip to Pensacola, Florida. Alas, I forgot most of our green vegetables in Mike's refrigerator, a mistake that can be corrected without too much trouble, far less anyway than my most grievous error. I overfilled the aft fuel tank, causing diesel to bubble from the vent into Alana's cockpit whenever we heeled excessively. The winds were 18-21 knots, so we certainly were heeling during our transit to Provincetown and we went through two and a half rolls of paper towels sopping up fuel.

We are now anchored in P'town, waiting to eat a tasty chicken, rice & bean dinner before getting a good night's rest. We're planning to catch the 1700 ebb at the Cape Cod Canal tomorrow, so there should be no need for an early departure. Mike's talking about going for a run in the morning and there are a few chores I can take care of while he is staying in shape.

You might have noticed from the pictures that Mike has not yet regained his sea legs. Tomorrow should be much more pleasant, so I am not yet ready to maroon him.

Mike says:

It was pure hell. Not through any fault of the skipper, though. I've never felt that bad for that long. I felt better after my first fish-feeding episode, but that didn't last and I felt like a woozy wet noodle for most of the trip. I did manage to not throw up again, though, and we each spotted a whale. And now I'm looking forward to a great-smelling meal, then a nice long sleep and a better day of sailing tomorrow. Note: we are NOT going in to town this evening.

Sweet Plotter!

Today I installed a new EPIRB and a Raymarine plotter at Alana's navigation station. The plotter's a C120/W that is capable of any number of functions, but I plan to use it strictly as a chart plotter. Perhaps I am a little old fashioned, but I am reluctant to place all my eggs in one basket, relying too heavily on on single magic box. I'm just fine with the idea of two separate GPS/plotters, a radar, a fathometer and paper charts. I think this plotter will be useful for voyage planning etc., but plan to keep the Northstar at the helm for situational awareness, etc.

Mike came out to give me a hand (and perhaps get away from his dogs) and just headed home. We'll be leaving Salem at the end of the week to start Alana's long voyage south toward Pensacola. Most folks around here seem to regard Labor Day as the end of summer, even going so far as to pull their boats for the season. I really don't know why anyone owns a boat around here. I can't tell you how good it feels to know that I will be moving south and missing the frigid New England winter which suddenly seems to be just 'round the corner.