|
| Home | # 1 | # 2 | # 3 | # 4 | # 5 |# 6 | # 6 |
||||||||||||||
|
7-8 May Norfolk VA to 7 May
. After the large ships, we slipped by the Norfolk waterfront and turned into Tidewater Marina to replenish our fuel supply, send email (log #5), and to buy ice cream bars and cold sodas (these are special treats since we are cooling food with an ice chest and block ice for days at a time).
Chris plotted the course and entered the waypoints in the GPS while T was at the helm, navigating out of the harbor. We all gazed at the Norfolk waterfront. After we left the harbor, Chris took the helm. Each of us spent some time on the bow (away from the engine noise) reconnecting with the world via cell phone. The sail between Norfolk and Mobjack Bay was delightful. Our course was generally northeast, the water was fairly smooth, and the wind was about 10 knots out of the west. We arrived at the mouth of Mobjack Bay just about dusk and began looking for lighted and unlighted markers. The shoreline of Mobjack Bay is beautiful -- very rural with large farm houses and boats of all kinds. I think this is what the Wye River on the eastern shore of the Chesapeake might have looked like 40 years ago, before all the mansions. We found the entrance into Zimmerman's Marina where Sweetpea will spend the summer. The entrance to their harbor was very narrow, about three times the width of our boat. It looked to be a tricky entrance because the tide was very low and we had no information about depths. Chris eased Sweetpea into the narrow mouth of the inlet on dead center -- a reasonable assumption given no other data. Unfortunately, we ran aground in the narrowest part of the entrance -- only 50 feet from the dock. We could not believe it! Only 50 feet to go! We tried leaning off the side of the boat, running to the bow and then the stern -- we even tried all three of us leaning over the side (which is interesting because the engine was in gear and running at full throttle!). Finally, we boosted T onto the boom and let him swing out perpendicular to the boat. Still, we were stuck. A passing boat with a party on board saw what was happening and the entire party came to our rescue in a Gemini Catamaran. They offered to tow us so we threw them a rope, and they ran aground too. They freed themselves and wished us well as they motored off to deeper water. They did offer some important information though --the deepest part of the inlet was to the right of center. I joined T riding the boom and our combined weight heeled the boat enough to get the clearance we needed. Sweetpea eased forward toward the dock. We tied up along side another boat which meant we had to walk across the other boat to reach the dock. We explored the marina in the dark, locating the head and shower first. Then we looked for refreshment. One of the workman in the boat yard was just finishing a varnish job and he asked us if we needed anything. We replied "Where can we buy some beer?" He informed us we were a long way from town and offered his last three cold beers to tide us over. We gladly accepted. Sitting in the cockpit, drinking beer in the dark and quiet of the cove, we reviewed the day and key parts of the trip. A car arrived and its headlights shown brightly through the dark. It was the guy who tried to tow us earlier -- just checking to see if we needed anything. We thanked him for his earlier assistance and he left. It only took one beer before fatigue overcame us. I went to take a short shower and when I got back, the guys were sawing logs. 8 May
While I was in the marina office making travel arrangements for the crew, the guys decided to run the engine one last time and it wouldn't start for them. When I got back they had done some troubleshooting and concluded saltwater might be backing up into the cylinders -- a bad situation. Each of us only had about 30 minutes before leaving for our various airports (I was flying to Florida to help Barb drive up to VA) so we went to the manager of the yard and told him the situation. He called his mechanic and gave instructions to first protect the engine (get the salt water out) and then to search for the cause. The mechanic was on the boat in 10 minutes and working on the engine when I left the yard for the airport. The bad news is: this is a major problem and likely to be expensive. The good news is: the voyage is over and Sweetpea is safely tied up in a marina with someone to take care of her. Also, we didn't have this problem while we were underway and she got us to our destination. Reflection: Throughout this voyage, I have been struck by how narrow and focused our world has become. We worried about what was in our boat or affecting our boat, nothing else. We were really focused -- primarily on survival, what was happening to us, and moving forward. Nothing else mattered. Only on the last day did we begin thinking about the outside world because we knew we would be retuning to it. By contrast, the outside world seems more complicated because many things demand your attention. In the boat priorities are very clear and tasks are consuming -- both mentally and physically. We were in sync with the boat and with each other. We were one with the boat. As she moved, we moved. Any change was noticed. A slight change of the engine RPM got everyone's attention. We checked our position constantly. We watched the depth. Are we on course? What's the next heading? When was the last time we filled the internal fuel tank? We stayed focused on the here and now. We also focused on each other. How are you doing? Need some rest? Would you like something to eat? We used the same bunks offshore. Eating a hot meal (think pasta) and steering the boat works like buddy breathing underwater. The first person steers while the second person takes a bite. The second person steers while the fist person takes a bite. We watch out for each other and take care of each other. You stay close to provide assistance, but not so close that you intrude. We talked with each other a lot about life and decisions and goals and dreams and past experiences. They all seem distant, yet a part of who we are. It seems easy to share such things because they are not things we can do anything except think about right now. We have lots of time to reflect. Watching the world go by at 5 knots seems to have the same effect as staring at a campfire. It creates closeness and distance at the same time. We became close because were huddled together in the cockpit and all focused on the capricious forces and events affecting us. We were truly "in the same boat", an important factor in building cohesion. At the same time, our minds wandered to different places. This is truly a special time. One that has demands each of us reconsider our personal journeys and to take stock of who we are and where we are going. This will be my last log. This voyage is over, but there will be more to come. For me, this adventure has been trilling and a great learning experience. T and Chris have been great guides for my learning. Thanks to both of them. I'd also like to thank Barb for her help and hard work while preparing Sweetpea for departure and for serving as command post during the voyage. I'd also like to thank my readers for sharing this adventure. Your questions and comments along the way have provided encouragement and much learning too. Until the next voyage, I wish you all fair winds and following seas. Chip Wood |
||||||||||||||
