CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR: AND ANOTHER THING

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR: AND ANOTHER THING

I write these Blogs at the end of a day of “cruising”, a word which connotes relaxation, but which in truth requires total concentration. The Admiral has it from the moment he wakes up. That concentration, combined with his intensity, makes him an extremely good ship captain. But once we get off the ICW and tie up at a marina, the Admiral finally can give his brain, his piloting muscles, his intensity, a break. I don’t have nearly the abilities of the Admiral, but throughout the day, there are constant challenges that wear you down and wear you out by the end of the cruising day. Take for example, the crashing, splashing boars -- they were there again today for the 40 plus miles between Alligator River and Belhaven.  When you see them barreling up behind you, the Admiral gets ready to steer into the humongous wake, while I run below and try to secure everything in sight. Then after we get “waked”, I have to check on what broke or was thrown to the floor. So with these Neanderthals, who can appear on the horizon at any time, we are in a constant state of anticipation and preparation for how to survive their boorish behavior.  (I know, it’s a toss-up whether to call them boars or boors – I like the pigginess of the word “boar”).

Today there were more crashing boars, but also a few very courteous power boats – My Marty comes to mind. He did what is expected of all boaters who are approaching another boat from behind and want to overtake that boat. He identified himself, told us his intentions, and then told us he would slow down as he passed so that we would not be “waked”. And we in turn told him that we would slow down, so that he could make the pass faster, even though he was reducing his speed. And guess what, no rough and tumble rocking and splashing! My Marty had to deal with one of the jerks who “waked” us going 30 miles per hour. Slow Motion averages 7 or 8 miles an hour. The speedster caught up with My Marty, who was going 28 miles per hour – not fast enough for El Jerko. So My Marty offered to speed up to 30 miles per hour, only after they both passed a slower sailboat. And My Marty made a point of telling El Jerko that My Marty was going to slow down to pass the sailboat, “as a courtesy”. That made absolutely no impression on El Jerko, who proceeded to pass My Marty within minutes. We heard this entire exchange on our radio. That’s the entitlement story of the day. This was another boat show boat, too new to have a name on the stern (conveniently) and too expensive to care about the “little people” on the ICW. On the other hand, My Marty did restore a little bit – a tiny bit – of our faith in the human race (actually, in the humans who are not racing).

Now about my ability to concentrate at the end of a long cruising day – last night I intended to write about an incident that occurred at Coinjock in the middle of the night. But my mind was too tired. So here it is. I’m up watching The Debate (cable worked in Coinjock) and the Admiral flies up the stairs from our cabin: “Ann, Ann, come up to the sundeck! Look at what’s going by! We ran up to the starlit sundeck and saw a very, very large barge, pushed by a tugboat, going past us about 10 feet away on the narrow waterway that runs by the Coinjock marina. If there had been any other traffic on that skinny channel, the barge and tug would most likely have hit it. But knowing how crazy many of the pleasure boaters are during the day as they speed south, the commercial craft have figured out that moving in the middle of the night is the safest, fastest thing for them to do. It was quite a spectacle, like watching a dinosaur up close, swimming past Slow Motion. This barge was huge. And the tug was all lit up, as it is required to be. They went by at a nice clip, no major wake, heading north. They had the waterway to themselves (lucky barge and tug). If you’ve never seen a tug pushing a barge that is 4 or 5 times longer than the tug, find a busy harbor and watch them at work. They are amazing boats, with the power to push or pull vessels that are up to 10 times their size and God knows how many times their weight.

And another thing:

Each marina we visit has its own aura, its own feng shui, its own strengths and weaknesses. Alligator River, for example, has the best fried chicken on the ICW (so long as Annette is making it). A weakness is that it has the oldest, rustiest washers and dryers. And the dryers don’t dry. Coinjock heralds its 32 ounce prime rib – you got it, a slab of prime rib that is the equivalent of 8 Big Macs or 8 Quarter Pounders. This is not a strength – who can eat that much meat? They offer a “first mate” dinner of 16 ounces of prime rib, but come on, wouldn’t you rather have a regular human sized 8 ounce slab of prime rib? That is not on the menu. A strength at Coinjock is their cable TV – brings in a gazillion stations, although we only needed one for The Debate. On the other hand, the water served at the table at Coinjock sucks, according to the Admiral. Still, the Admiral enjoyed a meal of fried clam strips and fried oysters that was perfecto. I had a too salty pork chop – The Admiral’s menu selection almost always looks better to me than what I ordered – except for the aforementioned fried chicken. The Atlantic Yacht Basin (Chesapeake, VA) offers a very good rate ($50 per night) and they’ve upgraded their bathrooms. Their marine store is the best. You just can’t get to a grocery store without a rented car. That’s true for all the marinas we’ve visited so far. Rebel Service Marina (Willoughby Spit, in Norfolk) has a very good bathroom and shower, a lounge with a television, almost always tuned to sports, and a very knowledgeable dock master in David the tugboat captain. On the other hand, it’s right next to Highway 64, not within walking distance to a grocery store, has no laundry facilities (you can go to the marina next door), and plays host to an interesting collection of locals, most of whom seem to smoke right outside the lounge.

The marina at Solomons, where we stayed for more than 6 weeks, had an antiquated bath house. The showers were relatively clean, but all the paint was peeling, things were rusting out, the floor was slimy until they covered it with a rubber mat. And someone smoked inside the bath house. So you never knew, upon entering, if you could breathe while showering or not.

 All of the bathrooms and showers since Solomons have been more modern and cleaner. The winner so far of the marina bathroom and shower prize is Belhaven Marina, where we are tonight. OMG, they not only provide a hair dryer (Hamilton), but also provide shampoo, hair conditioner, soap and lotion. AND, they provide towels and wash cloths, which they wash after you use them. In addition, the décor – it’s unbelievable. Every sea creature, except perhaps the giant squid, is represented on the walls of the bathroom.  Now you pay more for this luxurious experience, just like you pay more at a Hilton than at a Motel 6. But you are grateful to the dock masters for being so thoughtful and providing you everything you need for a pleasant shower experience. Yes, the hot water was hot indeed. The marina which is a close second to Belhaven in this category is Dozier’s Regatta Point (Deltaville, VA). They have a separate bath house, and each bathroom/shower combination is really clean, modern and equipped with a hair dryer.

Dozier’s comes in first among the marinas for down home hospitality. They have wine, cheese and fruit gatherings on Fridays at 6. When we were there a few days ago, we spent Saturday/Sunday night with them. And Sunday morning, the dock masters treated us to a scrumptious breakfast – this is a first for any marina we have visited. Eggs or waffles, sausage or bacon, toast, yogurt, orange juice – everything you wanted or needed – no grits, however. You were invited to make a modest five dollar donation. But to wake up on a Sunday, roll off the boat and wander up to the dock master’s cottage/office, catching a strong smell of bacon on the way – it was an unexpected treat. Good show, Dozier’s. The dock masters actually did all the cooking for that breakfast. Their follow up is also amazing – today, a few days after our one day visit, I received an email from the Dozier’s owners and dock masters thanking me for our stay and inviting us back to spend three nights, one night free. Other marinas can learn a lot from Dozier’s.

And one more thing: The Admiral definitely saw a bald eagle today. He wasn’t certain until we were able to confirm it from a picture online showing the white tail feathers not possessed by ospreys. I saw a porpoise the other day, and Slow Motion is being chased by a gaggle of sea gulls. As we churn up the water at our stern, the gulls take the opportunity to check for any fish that are caught up in the churning. While I have spent considerable space writing about the rude behavior of the 2% “entitled” boaters, let me assure you that our cruising days are still for the most part filled with quiet contacts with natural beauty, in the skies, on the water and on the land we pass by on the water. This morning, the sky was menacing, and that is always a wonder to behold. Then within an hour, the thick charcoal clouds parted, the sun shot rays through the clouds on to the water, and we were on our way. By the end of the day, we were cruising on mirror-like water. The sunset last night was every shade of orange, pink and mauve. Even as I walked gingerly to and from the laundry area, ever alert to any approaching alligators, I stared in awe at the setting sun. There are birds perched on every bridge, hundreds of them – cormorants, egrets, herons, gulls, and varieties of seabirds unknown to me. We have not had any alligator sightings, either on  Alligator River or on the Pungo River, nor have we dipped any bare toes in the waters to tempt them.

Perhaps the biggest difference in our lives is that we are governed totally by the weather. We read every weather report for the place where we are and the place where we are headed, and for every place in between. We read these reports at least 20 times a day, checking on the weather right before we go to sleep and as soon as we wake up. Of course, we not only read the reports, but we keep scanning the skies in all directions for any signs of change. We check out the direction the wind is blowing and what kind of clouds there are. This morning, for example, the weather reports had said the day would be sunny and warm, with slight wind. When we woke up, intending to leave at 7 a.m., as the sun rose, we saw black clouds everywhere, and particular in the direction we were headed. There was a fairly strong wind, and it felt like it was going to rain in minutes. We put off our departure indefinitely and kept checking the weather reports, which by 7 a.m. were starting to agree with what we were seeing with our own eyes. Then at 8 a.m. the dark clouds had moved into another part of the sky, no rain had fallen, and there was blue sky in the direction of our destination. So, weather permitting, we left the dock at 8:15 a.m. The thunderstorms that appeared to be inevitable did not materialize where we were. They probably struck along the ocean, not many miles from us. But we had a relatively calm day of weather, as we cruised on the Alligator River, the Alligator --Pungo Canal and the Pungo River. We guessed right – and that’s what it is, folks, a guessing game. I would not want to be a farmer. Being a boater makes me dependent on the weather, as to whether I can travel on a given day, but not dependent on the weather for my livelihood.

And one more thing (it is now Friday, October 19):

Today we had weather issues again in the early morning. The sun rises around 7 these days, and we rise at 6 to start checking the weather. The early reports showed scattered thunderstorms coming our way. As dawn approached, the sky was very dark in one direction and turning red in another. We cruise in rain, no problem, but lightning and thunder are dangers we choose not to subject Slow Motion to – especially the lightning. There are many times we are crossing a wide expanse of water and are the only boat around – lightning bolts love sitting ducks, and that’s what Slow Motion is much of the day. When the prediction is for thunder and lightning, we KNOW we will be the only boat around, because other boaters also want to avoid the disaster of being struck by lightning and fighting a major fire with a boat fire extinguisher – with no Coast Guard nearby to help out. In addition to checking all the reports and watching the sky, we watched what other boaters tied up at the same marina were doing. Steve from Duxbury, Mass. took off around 7 a.m. He travels 10 mph (faster than Slow Motion) and only intended to be on the water for 5 hours. He took the risk that the thunder and lightning would not find him. We did not follow him, because the sky still looked threatening at that time, not five hours later. We called the marina we were going to and asked about the weather there. They were expecting thunderstorms too. We waited more than an hour to see if, like yesterday, the storm would divide and we would conquer. Finally, around 8:30 a.m. the sky started looking more like just rain and less like thunderstorms. There is a difference that the Admiral can detect. I rely on his ability to do that. So we took our own risk at 8:35 a.m. and left the dock at Belhaven to travel down the Pungo, Pamlico and Neuse Rivers to River Dunes, 5 miles outside of Oriental, NC. Yes, it rained, and whew!, there was no lightning. We guessed right.

We traveled faster than we usually do, because the thunderstorms were still in the area. This meant more fuel consumption, expending a gallon of fuel to go 1 and ½ miles. You read that right. One and one half miles per gallon.  Eat your heart out, Prius. By the way, before you start extolling the “green” virtues of sailing, you should know that almost all of the sailboats on the ICW use their engines (fuel consumption), not their sails, to get to where they’re going. I didn’t know this when we started on our adventure, and I have to admit I thought sailors were superior to us motor boaters, because they didn’t guzzle gas. Now that I know they do too, I don’t feel quite so inferior. Still, when it’s raining, I know they’re much more out in the elements than we are in our isinglass and canvas covered flying bridges. And sometimes they do turn off their engines and sail. Plus, their engines aren’t as big as ours and don’t guzzle as much fuel. It’s kind of like the ranchers and the farmers, although there are a lot more cruising groups that include both motor and sail boats than there ever were before. Maybe ranchers and farmers are co-existing too, but I doubt it.

Bad boating behavior of the day: We’re cruising along at 8 or 9 miles an hour – yes, that’s 6 or 7 minute miles, slower than most people bike. And there is a catamaran in front of us, going considerably slower. The Admiral does the courteous thing. He calls the cat captain on the radio, announces his presence and asks permission to pass on starboard side. There is no response. The Admiral gets on the radio again and makes the same request. Again, no response. The Admiral takes his horn and gives it one short blast, as the navigation rules state for a starboard passing. That appears to get the cat captain’s attention. But what does he do, after not acknowledging the Admiral twice on the  radio? You may have guessed this – the cat captain guns his engine and speeds up! By this time we were about 20 to 30 feet to his starboard coming up parallel to his stern. We were clearly passing, and we had clearly been going faster. But when he speeded up, it showed a mentality of “You’re not passing me! If it’s the last thing I do, I will go so fast that you will never be able to pass me!” He even looked kind of angry. This is another example of too much testosterone on the waterway. Since the Admiral had started the pass, he had to speed up to complete it, and this seemed to make the cat captain even madder. I’m sorry to say, we “waked” him, but it didn’t have to be that way. All he had to do was keep going the speed he was going, and let us pass slowly, with little or no wake. After all, what was he going to do when one of the boat show boats going 30 mph came up behind him? He can’t go 30 mph. Would he just try to ram the boat if it tried to pass him? So the lesson of the day is that even slow boaters can display boorish behavior, when their manhood is ostensibly challenged by a boat trying to pass them.

Isn’t it interesting that all of the bad boater stories involve men behaving  badly? There are women captains on the waterway. I’ve seen them and heard them on the radio. Often they are trying to mediate between 2 male captains who are butting heads. They do things like refer both of the men to the rules. How novel – women captains suggesting that men captains play by the rules. I have not used the radio yet. I call the marinas on my cell phone to confirm that we are underway and to tell them when we expect to arrive. I call about the weather at the next marina. I ask to tie up on their face dock. I tell them if we need any assistance, and whether we want to tie up on the port or starboard side. And I call to make any schedule changes. But the radio is still something I must learn to master. The radio, and that pesky knot – what is it called? Oh yes, the cleat hitch. I know I’m overthinking the hitch. I also know that with practice, I will get it. But practice has to be on a cleat, so I can’t sit up in the flying bridge and practice the cleat hitch. Yes, that’s an excuse, not a particularly good one. You’ll be the first to know when I have mastered the hitch. For your information, I am getting much better at throwing the lines to the dock hands who help us tie up. Only once so far on this trip south did I throw a line in the water. I still say the dock hand could have caught it, but it wasn’t a very good throw. I’m also getting better at sitting in the captain’s chair and steering Slow Motion, whenever the Admiral needs to take a break. Fortunately for me, the Admiral takes a lot of breaks, and you would too, if, like the Admiral, you drank large glasses of diet peach iced tea all day every day.

I am not crawling around in the engine room, putting water in the batteries or replacing a hose. I am not drilling holes into the side of Slow Motion to attach metal holders for the fenders. I am not doing the pump out or filling up the gas tanks. I am not working every night on charts for our course the next day. I doubt that I will ever have all the skills that the Admiral has, but I am determined to improve in areas where I can. There will always only be one Admiral for Slow Motion, but I would like to improve to the point where I actually earn the title “Captain”. Little girls can dream – even big dreams.  And so to bed, to dream of tying the perfect hitch. There are fewer and fewer nights when I have a dream dealing with anything in the courtroom – can’t even remember when the last one was. So if you’re wondering if I miss being a prosecutor, the answer is “No.” I love what I’m doing now. Every day presents new challenges and nature keeps showering us with beautiful sunrises, sunsets, porpoises, pelicans, the occasional bald eagle, forests of fir trees, calm waters and a new cast of characters at every marina we visit. It’s no longer “The People versus (fill in the name of a criminal)”. It’s “we the people” are having a hell of a good time.