Leg 2: The Redheaded Step Child

We arrived in Portland this morning! yay! I'm a bit behind on clogging due to lack of internet access so I will post over the next few days to catch up! Still getting used to this formatting so bear with me as it's not as pretty as it should be...

Our second leg started out a little rough around the edges. We left Beaufort after a lovely night at the dock refueling in more ways than one around 10:00am. Dad had downloaded the new charts to go inside the intracoastal because the wind had picked up and was blowing out of the wrong direction for us to go outside. So we figured we would take the longer but easier and safer route up the intracoastal. Unfortunately about ten minutes after we passed through the bridge, I ran us hard aground. I wasn’t really ready to leave Beaufort and figured we could use a few more hours, so why not just sit on the bottom admiring the marshy land around us instead of making progress? Sigh. Had to happen sometime. So after much mildly frustrating and equally comical tactics to unwedge ourselves, we sat heeled over and gave all of Beaufort’s boaters a good laugh. For the next six hours. Incredibly nice these southern folk - so many people came over to ask if we needed anything, even after it was clear that we weren’t going anywhere.

At about 5:30pm the tide came in enough for us to make our way back into the channel and on our way. The intracoastal is beautiful, mostly calm and narrow and then opening up into larger spaces from time to time. That first night the wind picked up and after much confusing, stressful navigation we finally anchored at about midnight in the dark, in a little spot off of the channel. Our second inverter had crapped out on us so our plan to use the laptop with a GPS antenna was buggered again and we were maneuvering with dad’s old charts. Part way through the night I awoke to dad rummaging around in the drawers cursing about mosquitos. For a groggy second I had no idea what he was talking about and then I started inching all over. The wind had died down and it was extremely hot and we had forgotten to put in the screens. I buried myself in a sheet with only my face sticking out but it was so hot that I wasn’t sure which was worse, sweating to death or being eaten alive. I pondered for a few seconds that this must be how Cruise feels when he itches in the night and that I was now living what must be his own personal hell. You could hear them buzzing around, claiming the space as if it was their own. And not just an ‘oh, there’s a mosquito in the room’ kind of sounds but more of a ‘why the hell am I not killing them off in groups as I grope blindly in the dark’ kind of sound. I tossed and turned in my itchy sweltering state wondering what exactly a mosquitos purpose is in the grand scheme of things. I’m usually an every being has a place, life cycle kind of person but I was seriously questioning the point of mosquitos at that moment. And if I’m being honest, most moments that I encounter them in my life. Somehow I eventually fell back asleep after wimpering, whining and wishing it would be appropriate and helpful to throw a temper tantrum like a five year old.

A second day of intracoastal motoring began, heading towards Norfolk. Since our first day was shorter than expected we were hoping to make it to Norfolk in two more long days. The intracoastal is incredibly peaceful in spots, and full of boaters in others. Some amazing houses are built along the way and we marvel that they must be far from anywhere by car. The smell of wilderness filled the air, fresh, sweet middle of no where wilderness. Heavenly. We planned on continuing until at least 10 or 11 pm to make up some time but at 8:30 we came upon a bridge that didn’t open after 7pm. So we anchored again and waiting until morning, this time with the screens carefully in place.

The weather was supposed to be in our favor with SE winds 5-10 knots and we eagerly made our way to Norfolk to head outside for the next leg of the trip. After five hours of making our way out to the Chesapeake bridge/tunnel past Norfolk the engine started sounding funny and we realized the wind was blowing much harder than predicted and there was little chance of making it out of the channel. We tried to tack back and forth to get a good angle on the wind and blew a seam and ripped the mail sail. In a rush we changed direction and headed up the Chesapeake instead, a little frustrated and banged up already. The Chesapeake meant more time and less progress up the coast, but as usual, the weather does what it wants and we have no choice but to alter plans and go with the flow. We had a long night with fairly high winds behind us and blew out the main a second time. Let me explain. Isla is in incredibly good shape - she sails amazingly well, but she was built in 1966 and some of her parts are a little worn. We were in such a hurry to leave Delray that this is truly our shake down cruise and we are learning lots about what she needs, which perhaps, might include, a new main sail.

By the morning things calmed down and we had a gorgeous sunrise. Unfortunately the wind died completely and we made incredibly slow progress for the next six or so hours. We had sailed all night without the engine and after dad worked on it in the afternoon, she was up and running again. Shortly after the skies were looking dark ahead and our friends on the weather station informed us of a major thunderstorm heading our way with 30-40 knot winds and lots of lightening. Awesome. We take down the sails and start motoring towards shore hoping to avoid the worst of it and after about 20 minutes, the engine dies. Now, I would like to take this opportunity to explain how much I love my dad. In some situations he gets quite upset with lots of swearing and cursing his way through fixing something or things not going quite right, but when it comes to sailing and working under pressure he is amazing. Here we are rather close to shore with a major storm heading our way, winds up, rain beginning, with no power and he stays calm as can be working on the engine as if he were having brunch at the country club on a Sunday morning. Although quite frankly he is probably more comfortable working on the engine in a storm than being anywhere near a country club. I have to admit I did a little of what one may call praying to the universe that we make it out of this situation and I don’t lose my first boat that I have owned for approximately a month to the rocks of Maryland on a possibly rushed trip north. Dad stayed do calm that it was hard to get too worked up and altho I was a bit worried, I also knew we would be ok. Even through any moments of tension dad and Donny are light and making jokes… and I am incredibly grateful for that. After about 20 minutes the wind died down and two hours later we were up and running. Have I mentioned that sailing can be stressful?
Donny spotted a marina that we feared would be private and not let us stay but luckily ended up being an amazing little find for $35 bucks a night! For which we ended up paying 30 and being offered a few beers! This is the life of sailors. One second you are up shits creek and the next you are drinking free beer with some kind, boating souls. Flag Harbor Yacht Haven saved us that night and the next day as we waited out the tide and wind. John, the owner lent us his truck twice to run to town and get supplies and another man gave dad a ride into another town to get some parts.

We finally left the dock at 4:30, another day lost, and continued up towards the Delaware River. We replaced the main with the ratty backup that we had and meandered the calm night up towards the Chesapeake Delaware Canal. 11ish the next morning we were at the canal and heading down the river. 30 miles to Cape May where we hope to go outside again, slow going day until the evening when the wind picked up suddenly. The engine had cut out in the night but dad had her up and running quickly, but of course in the wind she died again and we blew a seam in the second mail sail. Frustrated and anxious we took her down and headed our own route closer to shore towards Cape May. After beating back and forth against the wind for another five hours we were 6 miles from the inlet into the canal for Cape May and the engine died again. Died. She coughs and sputters and skips her RPM’s around like school girl at recess. I’m beginning to think that she doesn’t take her job seriously enough. We drifted for the next two and a half hours while the boys worked on the engine and I thought about how we have been drifting without power many more times than I was really hoping for, which if you were wondering, was none. No times of floating without wind or power. Sigh, after disconnecting the fuel line and running it directly into one of the extra jugs in the cockpit for clean fuel, then playing with the spark plugs she was running and it was determined that she needs new points. (which I have learned are the parts that close the circuit for electricity to flow through the coil to send a strong spark to the distributor which sends it to the spark plugs.) I’m very smart now.

One would think this would be the end of our adventure for the day as we headed the last few miles towards the canal at 3:30 in the morning, but you would be wrong. At 4 am as I blindly enter the inlet, the bottom of the channel once again grasps at our hull and hold us fast. Now Isla is a pretty girl, but I’m sick and tired of her being groped over and over again by the land. I mean, who does it think it is just helping itself to our hull whenever it wants? Turns out the two small buoys that looked like lobster buoys were in fact very small channel markers without lights on them, and I was supposed to go on the other side of them. Bastards. AND to top it off, we were literally right next to a big ferry terminal so a few hours later when it was light everyone could see us laying on our side, on the wrong side of the channel, next to those cute little red markers. Luckily the tide was mild and we were off and running again by 10 am, instead of losing the better part of another day. By 11 we were in Cape May, refueling and ready to start the next leg with what had to be more luck then the last. Leg two is over and quite frankly already my least favorite section of the trip. Sigh. Which means of course, where I probably learned the most. Thank you Leg 2 for cramming a years worth of learning into a week, while my dad was here to keep me safe, steady and on course.