Captain's Log

Hi Y’all

We be hustlin’ down to Myrtle Beach Yacht Club (in Little River), ‘cause when the Admiral called to confirm, the nice lady said that they were having their end-of-the-year members appreciation party at 1200.  We were invited for burgers, dogs, and etc. if we made it in time.  I’ve never met a burger I didn’t like, and a dog is just the frosting on the cake.  Can’t tell you what the trip was like, as I just had one thing on my mind (I’m a cheap date).  I think we had the Girl up on plane most of the way down, and were tied up at 1130.  Now I’ve got to tell you about The Officers Club here at MBYC.  It’s kind of a restaurant/bar where you have to be a member or guest to enter.  Not sure, but it probably has something to do with liquor laws.  Anyway, it costs something like $30/year to be a member, so it’s not exactly exclusive.  Most of the members seem to be retirees who live around here, and many don’t have boats.  What they do have in common is the desire to have a place to hang out, and have fun.  So….back to the party.  The weather was gorgeous, 75 degrees and sunny, we had some good picnic grub, and met some really happy people.  Martin, a fellow transient, and one of the bundled up sailors that we had seen a few days previously, had quite a story to tell us.  He and his friend, Dieter, were headed down the ditch by Camp LeJeune, when he took his eye off the ball, and ran hard aground.  Before he could say “$%#@!!”, the marines were there in a gunboat telling him that he needed to get out of there, because live fire exercises were starting soon.  He related that he’d be happy to, except for the fact that he was hard aground on a falling tide.  Would they be so kind as to pull him off?  Absolutely not, but he had better get out now, and away the marines raced.  Towboat U.S. came out about an hour or so later, but by this time, the tide had receded further and the boat was heeling over, balanced on its’ keel-no way.  Towboat presented Martin a bill for $8,000 for their time, and took off.  Now the Marines are back, and not very happy.  On goes a line, and they haul Martin off, breaking his bow pulpit in the process, while severing a 1” (that’s big) line.  Would have been simpler to do that in the first place-must have had to go up the chain of command.  This was the easy part of the ICW, and Martin figures he’s tired of hitting the bottom, so he’ll head back to Annapolis instead of going South as planned-he’s selling the boat anyhow.  We meet Dave, who’s flying a quadcopter drone around the pool.  This little beast is equipped with a Go Pro video camera, and has GPS.  If it loses your signal, it will return to the location of takeoff and hover-way cool.  I’m thinkin’ a little sideline business of taking aerial videos of boats and marinas for $.  Hear that, Santa?  By dusk, the grills are cooling, but the party’s heating up and moving inside to the “club”.  After a timeout to check on the Wolverines football game back at our floating family room, we drift over.  Tough to describe the scene, but visualize the musician in the corner, playing guitar and singing along with some kind of karaoke machine, sippin’ Jackie D.  The gang is doin’ the “Shag” while singin’ right along, with someone grabbin’ the mic from time to time.  60’s frat party for the older generation-what a trip.  Had to get up early for our road trip, so we wrapped it up around 2200, everybody else still going strong.

The 640 mile trip to Canton, Ohio was remarkable in that it literally flew by, being used to life at 7 knots.  The weather was beautifully sunny and clear, with temps in the 50’s.  This drive took us through a part of the country that I’ve only flown over, and seeing it from the ground was a unique experience.  We left the Girl a bit early so that we could hit the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, definitely worth it-we spent the whole day there, and could have gone back for another.  Maybe we will sometime.  Spent  a food-filled holiday with my Sis and her fam on the farm, including our Alois VanTongerloo (Grandpa) Memorial Noon shotandabeer before the Lions football game.  Got a few day trips in too, slot car racing (haven’t done that since junior high), Warther’s Museum (master carver and knifemaker-awesome), and a tour of Amish country (stopping at Lehman’s-maybe the best hardware store in the world, a tourist destination).  Dad was there as well.  Fun time, just too short, as 5 days later we felt like we had just arrived.  Back on the road, the Admiral played DJ with the Ipod for a few hours.  Every song was right on.  Back at MBYC, it’s Saturday, and time for another party.  This time, 2 musicians and a music machine.  The theme was Christmas and lotsa shaggingoinon, as well as turns at the mic.  Early night for the semi-dynamic duo, as we have to grocery shop before returning the rental in the morning.  Up at 0700, and Suz has a Vmail from her Bro.  He and his bride are in Myrtle Beach for the weekend, and do we want to meet them for breakfast?  Heck yeah.  Shopping’s done by 0830, breakfast at Captain’s Table by 0930, flu shots by 1100, rental returned by 1200-Whew!  It’s 67 degrees and sunny, so we decide it’s a good day to give the Girl a bath before taking off tomorrow.

See Ya-

Hi There,

Dock at Morehead City Yacht Club was a “side tie” affair, with current and wind blowing us off.  Made “parallel parking” the Girl a challenge, but she was up to it.  M.C. is pretty much an overnight for boats on the Intracoastal, as there isn’t a whole lot going on here.  We take a quick walk around (what there is of a) town, and grab dinner at the Ruddy Duck.  The food is good, and delivered in copious quantities-leftover Jambalaya will feed us another day.  The location is good, overlooking a back creek.  Looks like it might be a rockin’ place in the summer, during season.  Back at the ranch, we ask the dock dudes about getting over to Beaufort, and find out that it’s not a very pedestrian/bike-friendly couple miles.  As we want to get over there to visit a museum, and get a glimpse of the wild horses that inhabit some of the barrier islands off Beaufort, many from shipwrecks on this coast ,“White Star” is launched for tomorrow’s expedition.  Sunday dawns cloudy, and threatens rain, but what’s a little more water?  It’s a five mile trek by sea, but now that we can trust our outboard, no worries.  While we’re in Beaufort, we’ll look for a little flip ICW chartbook that the Admiral has been lusting after since seeing another cruiser with it many weeks ago.  Our day-long field trip was a total success.  Horses on one of the Rachel Carson (remember “Silent Spring”) islands-check.  Aforementioned chartbook-check.  Beaufort Historic Museum, with a beautifully done video on Edward Teach’s (Blackbeard) life and artifacts recently recovered from his sunken vessel, “Queen Anne’s Revenge”-check.  I shouldn’t forget to mention $4 Bloody Mary Sunday at “Finz”.  After dodging the drops all day, even seeing a little sunshine, we felt some sprinkles on the way back that evening.  Almost not enough for our rain jackets, but we put ‘em on anyway, as the wind was brisk, and as evening fell the temperature was dropping.  Weather report didn’t look good for the next evening-cold front, and winds 35-40 knots.  No need to brave thunderstorms while on the hook, we decide to stay another day and give the Girl a bath, and a coat of wax on her high-weather spots.

Good call on staying another night.  Lotsa thunder and lightning, and the cold front left us with 40 degree temps, winds 24 knots, but crystal blue skies for our morning departure.  On our way down Bogue Sound, the dolphins are playing in our bow wave, right beneath our anchor.  The sun is in the wrong place for snappin’, so we’ll get some pics another time.  We don’t make great time today, as we’ve got a bridge to wait for, and have to time our transit past Camp LeJeune to coincide with the Waterways’ closed every-other-hour schedule where it passes the firing ranges there.  There’s no shortage of entertainment, as the Marines are playing with their toys, the most interesting being a heavy-lifting helo picking up and dropping off a 40 foot long steel I-Beam.  Mile Hammock Bay, our anchorage for the evening, is on the base, so shore excursions are strictly verboten, and enforced by men with big guns.  We’re not too interested in getting the dinghy down anyway, as the temp has held around 40 degrees all day, and on this cloudless night, it’s gonna drop like a rock.  A couple of sailboats that we passed earlier in the day, with their occupants dressed in down jackets and hats pull in right around sundown.  I love my diesel furnace.  Next morning, its anchor up at 0645, and man, is it cold!  Temperator says 24 degrees, and the anchor washdown hose confirms it.  #$%@!!!  Frozen solid.  Had to hose down anchor/chain with our drinking water hose, and am I happy to get inside when the tackle’s up.  Three bridges today, all open on a schedule (as opposed to “on demand”), so timing will be key.  On the way out of the anchorage, we overhear the sailboaters talking to one another on the VHF-seems they slept in their jackets last night.  Along the way, another trawler, who has been behind us for a few hours, requests to pass us-no problem?  As we’re chatting on the radio, he tells us that they have a long day planned.  “Oh, really?  Where ya’ headed?”  “The Bahamas”.  Cool-they’re taking their turn at the plate, and so it goes.  Nine hours later we’re pulling into Southport Marina.  Hank, who is a retired meteorologist and now owns a yacht service company, does a nightly weather briefing there, and covers trouble spots on the ICW at this marina, and we want to hear what he has to say,.  There isn’t a whole lot to Southport, NC, but we need a walk, so we get a couple hours in before dark.  Dinner at “Fishy Fishy” overlooking the ICW (not remarkable), but nice location.  Hank’s presentation was very informative, and we got some new weather sites.  The segment on “trouble spots”  between here and Savannah was actually kinda scary (South Carolina and Georgia don’t spend a lot maintaining the Waterway-so shoaling and shallow spots require some timing of tides).  All in all, though, a great service for cruisers. 

Bald Head Island was recommended as a must-see, so we’ll backtrack a few miles, and head out there.  It’s blowing like stink as we head across the Cape Fear River, and we’re happy for the short trip.  Bald Head Island is the anchor for Cape Fear, and has quite a history, from the Revolution, through the War of 1812, and the Civil War.  The oldest lighthouse  in NC, “Old Baldy” is there and open for tours.  There are about 1,000 homes on this sparsely-inhabited, 3 mile by 1 mile island, and none of the residents have cars.  Transport is by golf cart or bike.  Suz and I spend the better part of 2 days riding bikes, and exploring.  Definitely worth the trip, and we’ll be back next Spring.  The marina is well-maintained, and protected from all winds.  Oh, so we’re at the hardware store in the middle of the island picking up a new tube for Suzanne’s middle of the ride dead-flat tire, and she strikes up a conversation with Margo, whose brother was the architect for many of the homes here.  Next thing you know, we’re invited for a 5-7 at their place, which is down by the marina, where their boat is docked.  Margo’s husband, John, has been out fishing all day, and is ready for a sip.  Both of them have just retired this year, and they’re getting ready for their Turn- just aren’t exactly sure what that’s going to look like.  A couple bottles of red pop, a tour of their boat, a tour of our boat, and we all agree that we need to stay in touch, and get together on our way through next year.  We’ll be heading down to Myrtle Beach Yacht Club tomorrow, which is actually in Little River, north of North Myrtle Beach, where we have a car rented for our road trip to my sister’s place in Ohio for Thanksgiving.

-Later

G..G..G..G.G..Good Morning!

We got the brass monkey thing going this morning-it’s cold.  I don’t mean COLD, but 29 degrees gets their attention here in North Carolina.  The Girl pulled out of New Bern at 0800 with some pretty frosty decks.  Sun is out, wind 14 out of the North, and the glass is up (1028 mB).  All in all, a good day for a drive to Morehead City, NC.  Before we move forward, let’s back up a few days to get caught up.

We left Elizabeth City last Sunday under overcast skies, but no wind.  The Pasquotank River looked like a bowl of mercury, the only ripples in the surface were ours. Twenty minutes out, the Elizabeth City Coast Guard air base passed by our starboard rail.  This is the largest of all Coast Guard air stations, and covers the coast from Newfoundland to Georgia.  Shortly thereafter we passed a huge hangar at mile marker 58.2, where blimps (Metlife, Fujifilm, etc.) are built-it was pretty impressive.  The Albemarle Sound was uncharacteristically docile as we crossed under windless skies.  (This body has a reputation for getting pretty nasty pretty quick, as it is wide and very shallow).  Better to be lucky than good.  We overtake half dozen sailboats on our way to our anchorage in the mouth of the Alligator River, and after we get the hook down, they all dribble in and anchor around us.  Bill is doing boat chores, so Suz and I drop White Star in and run up the river a couple miles to do a recon on the entrance to the Alligator/Pungo river Canal-reputed to be a “trouble area” because of silted in, shallow water.  We find plenty of water-no worries for tomorrow morning.  Back at the boat, the Admiral is whipping up a “spicy meatloaf” for dinner with Bill and Lisa-he’s excited (meatloaf is his second favorite dinner (to spaghetti)).  Our intention is to get up before the sail boaters, as we travel a bit faster, and it’s tough to pass in narrow canals.  No dice, 0700 is not early enough, as they’re off the hook by 0645-oh well.  An hour and a half later, Suz passes the first of the sailors.  Wasn’t too difficult, but would have been easier if they’d have slowed down, instead of speeding up.  Two others fall past the rail in the next 20 minutes.  Cheesey, hammy, oniony, red peppery scrambled eggs concocted by YT were Suzanne’s’ reward for her nerves of steel pass on the sailors.  By mid-afternoon, we’re at R.E. Mayo commercial dock outside of Hobucken, NC.  This isn’t a real scenic spot, being under a highway bridge, along a shore which is littered with the debris of decades of commercial activity, but the dock has a shop where we can get fresh, fresh, fresh seafood-and tying up here is $20.  When we hop off the boat, we’re careful not to fall through any of the holes in the dock, and give the power receptacles, which were fused into a blackened mass (presumably by high water long ago), a wide berth.  The facilities are quaint, there’s a cute pink outhouse for the Admirals, and a blue one for the Captains.  The paint jobs are meticulous, and the adornments of fish and things nautical are clever.  Down the dock, there’s a solitary shrimper which appears to be very well maintained.  Adjacent to it lays a building which appears to function as a processing plant.  Inside are the company office and  ships store, which has lots of BIG stuff for the commercial boys.  We get the rent paid, and score a few pounds of scallops and shrimps.  Can’t leave without chattin’ it up with Jan, Joe, and a couple of locals hangin’ out here at the end of the dead end road.  It’s Joe’s birthday today, so Jan gives us some of her “Georgia Cornbread”, which contains neither cornmeal nor bread ingredients.  It’s more like a brown sugar and molasses cake, which gets pretty crispy on the edges from the addition of some fat.  Whatever, it’s good!  We get to talkin’ about fishing, licenses and etc..  Seems that the guy that owns the boats (4) here was offered $4.5M for his fishing license, and turned it down-you can only get one if someone dies or sells theirs.  (Prices were very similar in Nova Scotia)  I guess when you can gross $1M in 3 months of scallopdragging; these licenses should be pretty dear.  Scallop dinner, provided by Lisa and Bill, is bittersweet-we’ll be parting company the next day, as we’re heading to Oriental, NC, and they’re hustling down the Intracoastal to make Savannah for family Thanksgiving.

November 11, and the day dawns warm and foggy for our transit of the Pungo, and entrance to the Neuse Rivers to Oriental, NC.  We part with “Changing Course” just outside Oriental, and proceed in to the harbor where we drop the hook.  There isn’t a whole lot to see in Oriental, but the name sounded exotic, and the Admiral wanted to pull in.  On shore, we discover that the “Toucan” grill, which has received a good write up in the cruising guides, is closed on Tuesdays, so I guess we two can’t.  Up the road a mile or so is a nautical consignment shop, a labyrinth of shelves and piles of boat doodads housed in a century-old firetrap.  I thought of Bill-he loves this stuff too.  Next, it was off to the hardware store to get the local news (is there a theme here?).  There’s a cute little boutique here as well, so we make our obligatory pass through-some nice stuff for the Admiral here, but we both wonder where these duds would fit in our high-tech, quick-dry world.  We pass, and head over to “The Bean” for more chitchat and coffee.  The marine supply store, which is pretty well stocked, is our last stop, and is also where we meet Vince, and his buddy Chuck (who is celebrating his birthday today), from the sailing vessel, “Footloose”.  Vince is on his 70th transit of the Intracoastal, and regales us with a few tales, and his Sicilian ancestry, which he portrays as a bunch of Mafioso.  He tells us that he and Chuck are “looking for bars, rock ‘n roll, and hookers”.  I’m pretty sure they’re in the wrong place-gene pool is pretty shallow here.  Lots of characters on the ICW. 

New Bern, NC is about 20 miles or so off the ICW, but is consistently in the running for “best places to retire”, so we want to check it out.  We’re docked at “Galley Stores and Marina” by 1130, with Stan catching our lines and helping us in.  The lines are barely secured, and Mark, the owner of the place is giving us the “Chamber of Commerce” rap.  He’s pretty proud of his city, and is here to make us feel welcome, and our stay memorable (this is a recurring theme while here-he’s a great host).  There are only a few boats here, as it is off-season.  Mark tells us that the family on the sailing catamaran a few slips over from us are missionaries on their way to Dominican Republic.  They’ve been here in the Fall for the last 6 years on their way from Canada.  While we’re having a quick lunch, I see that they’re hooking up a bosun’s chair, and the wife and son (who weigh around 180 pounds between them) are getting ready to haul Dad up the mast.   “Do you need an extra hand”?   “Uh, okay”.  No amount of prayer would’ve allowed them to get him up that mast.  While we’re working, I find out that Marty’s a dentist from Ontario, and that the 4 home-schooled kids and his wife, Dawn do relief work in the Dominican Republic every year.  After a quick tutorial on the Ford truck that won’t go into “Park”, won’t start, except in “Neutral, and can’t be left on a hill, Mark throws me the keys, and we’re off to get the Admiral’s haircut, and provision the galley.  The next day, Mark has brought his extension ladder from home, so that I can get up our mast to replace our “windicator” (weather station), which came in the mail here after Airmar repaired it free of charge-yeah!  Over the next few days, we find that New Bern really lives up to its’ reputation.  We visit the Historical Center,  Tryon Palace (colonial governor’s residence when N.B. was the capital), several historic homes, and, of course, the tourist trolley.  Dinner one night at “Persimmon’s” (at the marina, and purportedly the best eats in town), lunch at Morgan’s (upscale tavern food), and Trent River Coffee Company (to replenish our bean supply) rounded out the culinary program.  New Bern has one of the best hardware stores ever (established in the late 1800’s), so we stop for a few knicks and knacks before taking part in the “Art Walk”, stringing together the local galleries.  Through the day, the temperature fell, and the wind rose, with predictions for sub-freezing temperatures during the night.  Friday night’s wine tasting at the marina store (much more than a typical marina store-over 1,000 wines, many cheeses and specialty foods) capped our wonderful 3 day stay in New Bern.  We left with an invitation from Chuck and Dianne (who we met at the tasting) to stay at their house (complete with dock) during our return next Spring.  That’s just how the New Bern(ians?) are-remind me of the folks in the Maritimes.

1217, and Suz has headed up the Adams Creek canal for our stay in Morehead City/Beaufort.  I need to get off the laptop and help out.

-Later

Good Morning,

November 6, warm, rainy morning in Portsmouth, and the ferry ride across the river is short.  Nauticus opens at 1000, and we’re waiting at the door.  This is a center that houses an extensive museum covering the gamut from war history, port history, commercial shipping, NOAA and etc.  The Wisconsin, an Iowa Class battleship is also part of the Nauticus complex.  We start the day with 2 guided tours of the Wisconsin.  The first is the “Main Street” tour, taking us down below decks, exploring a variety of accommodation spaces.  The second is the deck tour, which covers the deck, and spaces within the superstructure rising above the main deck.  The tours are led by ex-Navy guys who are very knowledgeable about the ship, and are enthusiastic about their (volunteer) jobs.  Every dollar that is paid for the tours goes directly back into the ship for more renovations and upkeep-cool.  The Wisconsin was commissioned just before the end of WWII, and participated in the attacks on Iwo Jima and the shelling of islands in Japan.  After the war, she was mothballed several times, but saw duty in Korea, Viet Nam, and Iraq 1.  In fact, the video clips that we all watched on television of the nighttime cruise missile launches in the initial salvo of the attack on Iraq were taken from the deck of the Wisconsin.  After our 3 ½ hour tour, we headed to Freemason Abbey restaurant for lunch.  Back at the museum, 1700 closing time came way too quickly-could have spent a few more hours easily.  The night brought gale force winds as a cold front moved through, and Friday morning dawned clear and crisp, with a full moon setting.  At 0900, we were off up the Elizabeth river, heading to the northern entrance of The Dismal Swamp Canal.  This canal was conceptualized by George Washington in the 1760’s, and hand dug by slaves from 1793-1805.  Cost overruns halted construction in 1796 for a few years, but the project was eventually completed.  The Canal allowed the Swamp, which was rich in White Cedar, and other commercially viable tree species to be harvested and shipped out economically.  We opt to traverse this route instead of the Virginia Cut, because of its wilderness beauty, and its’ historical importance.  We pass through Deep Basin Lock at 1100, and are entertained by Bob, the lockmaster, who regales us with tales, and completes our transit by playing “When the Saints Come Marching in” on a conch shell.  I have to break out our conch horn, and give him a few toots-he confides to the Admiral that I need to work on my tongue rolling (I’m not even going there).  The D.S. Canal is just a straight, 22 mile long, 6’ deep, tree-lined ditch, through  beautiful wilderness.  The depth is pretty consistent, but there are many submerged logs and branches, providing numerous bumps and bangs along the way.  We were forewarned, so after the first few, it’s no thing.  Just over the state line, the North Carolina Welcome Center has a seawall that’ll be our stop for the night.  There’s plenty of room at the wall, but Changing Course and The Girl raft up to make room for the boats that we know are behind us.  The Welcome Center is associated with a state park, so we get a little hike time in before dark.  The rest of the boats in the canal are in right around dark-they’re all sailboats, and raft up three deep at the other end of the wall.  I make the rounds with the contents of our icemaker, as most of the sailors don’t have that luxury.  Pun intended, this gesture is always a good icebreaker. The sailboats decide that we all need to be off the wall by 0700, so we agree, as we want to be ahead of them on the waterway (they’re generally slower, and passing in a narrow channel can be dicey).  At 0630, it’s cold enough to “freeze the balls off a brass monkey”.  Hold on, let me explain.  Back in the day, cannon balls needed to be stored in stacks on deck.  Since they are round, they tend to roll around if not restrained.  To accomplish this, square trays were formed with sixteen concave depressions.  The balls were placed on these depressions and stacked in a pyramid, 16 on the bottom row, then 9 on the second, 4 on the third, then 1 on top.  Since the cannon balls were made of iron, they would naturally rust, so the trays (monkeys) were made of brass, to keep the balls from adhering when they rusted.  In extremely cold weather, the iron and brass contract at different rates, allowing the cannon balls to escape and roll around the deck-hence “Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey”.  Anyway, it was so dang cold that there was ice (I’m not talkin’ frost) on deck.  We had to take our shoes off to keep from sliding around.  It was another sunny, clear day though, and the canopy of trees was in its’ full autumnal splendor.  When we arrived at South Mills Lock, “Two by Two”, a Nova Scotian 47’ (That we first met in the Saguenay Fiord off the St. Lawrence) was tied to the approach wall.  Three trawlers and four sailboats locked through, and we were on our way to Elizabeth City, NC on the Pasquotank River.  I have to say that this is a town that has the boater economy thing figured out.  They have free tie ups on several city seawalls, as well as free internet.  They only ask that you patronize local businesses during your stay.  What a contrast with Anse St. Jean QC, where they charged you $10 to tie up your dinghy (and we said “To heck with that”, and ate on the boat, foregoing probably spending $100 at the bakery and restaurant in town).  Elizabeth City, which seems to be a town kind of down on their luck did have a beautiful, state-funded Museum of the Albemarle, and an art gallery for local artists, both of which we visited.  We then proceeded to do our part for the local economy-drugstore, bookstore, and the Cypress Restaurant, which turned out to be a delightful, nouveau cuisine place with many of seafood selections.  Back on the Girl, the Admirals’ (and Captains) meeting mapped out our course for the next few days.  Tomorrow, Sunday, we’ll head across the Albemarle Sound to Alligator River, and anchor in its’ southern end, about a 50 mile trip.  Lisa has furnace envy-when the heat kicks on, she has to whine just a little bit, although I’m pretty sure it’s just for Bill’s benefit.  After they split for their little ship, I can’t find a CBS station that’s carrying the Spartan game, so after finding out that the Wolverines have squeaked out a 10-9 victory over Northwestern, I hit the rack.

G’Night

Bonjour, Mes Amis,

The channel into Jackson Harbor at Deltaville is pretty shallow and zigzaggy(?), but well-marked.  In spite of this, we kissed the bottom on our way in-no biggy, we plowed through the sand.  “Krogen Sighting” in the East arm of the harbor-it’s “Changing Course”, home of Bill & Lisa, from Harbor Springs, Michigan.  You may recall that we met them in Chesapeake City, on the C & D canal.  Time to test the motor repair on the tender once we had dropped the hook.  Dang-runs better than when it was new.  After a few calls to Mercury, we found out that they weren’t totally happy with the original ECM’s (brains of the motor), and basically had an unannounced recall (don’t you just love this stuff?).  Ours was out of warranty; new one was only $1K.  After a little begging and cajoling, to their credit, Mercury stepped up and bought us a new one.  We picked up the labor.  Test run allowed us to find deeper water in the channel-there was about a 20 foot wide area around the spot where we touched on the way in.  Deltaville Boatyard didn’t have our oil filters and other goodies in stock, so we strolled over to the NAPA store.  No dice for the filters either, but there’s a West Marine store a mile or so up the way, and the guy at NAPA offered us a ride-Nice.  “Hope ya don’t mind ridin’ with the dogs”.  We say “No problem, as long as they don’t bite too hard”, and slide open the side door of the van.  Whoa!  3 dogs, some homemade bench seats, and the floor is littered with rags, empty jugs and a five gallon bucket which is splattered with what looks like blood. I’m getting’ a Jeffrey Dahmer visual, but we’re already in and the van is rolling.  Story is, his dogs are old, and have all kinds of food sensitivities to the preservatives in regular dog food, and one of his buddies had hit a deer the previous night.  They hauled the carcass into the van and carted it home for butchering, so that he could feed it to his dogs.  Even so, I’m feeling better when we stop in front of West Marine and are able to open the door from the inside.  Bill & Lisa are in WM pickin’ up some doodads of their own, so we walk back to the boats together after we strike out again on our filters.  We compare notes from the past few weeks, and our plans for the next few, and decide to run together for awhile.  Anchor up at 0716 on the 4th, and it’s a sunny 49 degrees.  Exiting the harbor, we miss the silted in area that we kissed on the way in.  “Changing Course” has her hook up, and we’re all off to Yorktown, the site of George Washington’s defeat of Lord Cornwallis.  5 hours later, after a beautiful cruise over 1’ seas, and a visit by a pod of dolphins, we arrive in Yorktown.  We grab a mooring ball in the river, get our faster than fast tender down, and are visiting the battlefield, and National Park interpretive center within the half hour.  There isn’t much town in Yorktown, but what’s here is steeped in history.  For a couple of science majors, this voyage down the Northeast coast of North America has been a historical eye-opener.  When we are able to touch and feel the geography, the rat facts and dates that we learned (sorta) in grade school start to weave a fabric that makes some sense.  Some blackened Rockfish at the Pub and a brew (or 2) complete our day with B & L.  Overcast and 54 degrees on our way to Newport/Portsmouth Virginia.  Lots of commercial and Naval traffic keeps us on our navigational toes through the harbor on our way in.  This is, and has always been one of the largest (if not THE) largest naval yards in the U.S.A.  It’s one of 2 yards that are capable of refueling our nuclear-powered ships/subs.  There are also many private yards here that refit military vessels, so the scenery is quite impressive, to say the least.  Our home for the next 2 nights is Ocean Marine Yacht Center, where we have called ahead for a reservation, and to order the elusive oil filters and impellers.  We maneuver down a narrow fairway, and I’m eyeballin’ the slip, thinking “no way”.  I tell the dock guy the same, and he says “38 feet, right?”  “No, 48”.  Okay, the fairway is too narrow for The Girl to turn in, so we back out in a crosswind, and head to another slip.  All’s well that ends well.  First stop is to the boatyard to pick up my goodies-mission accomplished.  B & L, Suzanne and I are then off to visit the Naval Shipyard Museum, and the Portsmouth Light Ship.  The museum documents the evolution of the shipyard from the early days in the 1700’s to Word War Two (the docent says that they ran out of room, otherwise the exhibits would have run through the present day).  The light ship is closed, because it’s off-season, but we can walk around the outside.  The story is that these light ships (I want to say that there were about 168 of them in use between 1820-1983) were moveable lighthouses, placed in areas where it was not possible to build conventional ones.  They were manned by crews of 8-15 men, and would be anchored on station for months at a time, being resupplied by smaller boats.  I can’t imagine how brutal the conditions were at times, during gales, freezing weather, fog and huge seas.  The biggest dangers were from anchor chains parting in these underpowered, poorly maneuverable boats, and collisions with other vessels in fog and poor visibility conditions.  In 1934, the Olympic (sister ship of the Titanic), came out of the fog near the Grand Banks, 25 miles offshore, and sliced the lightship there in two, resulting in the loss of 7 lives.  I suspect that these 100’ boats got pretty small after a month or so with 15 crew, and not much to do but read and keep the lights filled with oil-wouldn’t be my ideal occupation.  After a walk through downtown Portsmouth darkness was falling and threatening rain, so we headed back to the boats.  We had our “Hour of Charm” (Bill and Lisa’s term for Happy hour, 5-7, Cocktail time) on our little ship, then grilled up some Nova Scotia salmon, mango salsa, couscous, courtesy of the Admiral, followed by Lisa’s great salad.  After washing it all down with a little white pop, plans are made to meet in the A.M. and take the ferry over to Newport to tour the Naval Museum and the battleship, Wisconsin.

Bon Soir

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