Abraxas and Endeavour

There Again and Back

 

Day 0

It is 8 June 2020, 16:30 hrs, the year of Covid19, and this is your narrator Neal Musto, with Hermione the cat, on Abraxas, a 1977 Tartan 37c, on our way to meet up with Mark Rapkins on his Catalina 30, Endeavor. We are meeting on Mill Creek off Whitehall Bay. Tomorrow we start a cruise called the Albemarle loop – down the Bay to Norfolk, into the part of the ICW called the Dismal Swamp or the Ditch, back up to Norfolk via the Virginia Cut and then home. I am leaving with a damaged and unusable main sail as well as a slight leak in the water heater safety valve so I’ll be sailing with the jib alone and have to keep an eye on the water levels.

 

Day 1

Whitehall Bay to the Solomon’s

After spending the night at anchor in Mill Creek off Whitehall Bay, we get ready to depart in the pre-dawn hours. Abraxas’ anchor comes up and is washed and stowed, but Endeavor’s hook is giving Mark fits. It appears the new 8-plait rode Mark recently purchased has some sizing in it that makes it very slippery and the gypsy on the new windlass will not grip it, so Mark has to bring in the rode hand over hand. Not a good start to the day. We finally break out of Whitehall and start down the bay and, of course, the wind is on the nose — light but still on the nose. By the time we get about to Poplar Island the wind is more than 15 and the seas are building. Mark is taking a beating, while Abraxas, heavier by more than 6000 lbs, is just plowing through the chop, managing to stay in the 4 kt range, though marginally beginning to lose speed. The wind is supposed to build and Maggie’s drawers will come out. We decide to abort plans for the Solomon’s and run through Knapp’s Narrows to hunker down in Dunn’s Cove and wait it out over night. Once through the Narrows it is apparent that the Choptank is much calmer than the bay so we decide to divert to the Little Choptank and gain a few miles on the next day’s run to Solomon’s. Once in the Little Chop, the problem is to find a suitable anchorage with protection from South winds that are expected to build over night. We examine and discard a few potential sites on the south shore, and I remember a shallow cove way up Hudson Creek that affords some protection. We spend a quiet night there.

 

Day 2

The next day, we venture out only to find that we’ve still got it–wind in the face and blowing hard. Rather than go back in the cove we search out a new place further up the Little Chop — around behind McKeil Point up Fishing Creek. After a short wait and consulting weather forecasts we decide to make a dash for Solomon’s as the winds are expected to diminish in the afternoon though rain is also expected. We get about to the LPG terminal when the heavens open. It doesn’t rain, it pours, a real frog drowner, visibility reduced to 100 feet or so. This keeps up intermittently all the way in to the Patuxent River such that, on our final approach to the Solomon’s harbor entrance, the visibility is in feet rather than yards. It is about this time that my chart plotter goes blank-the blank screen of death–I can’t go in on instruments. The last time I see Mark, he heading in a westerly direction saying he was going to stay out in the river. I am getting hammered with rain and am soaking wet because I neglected to install the filler between the bimini and the dodger, and I want to go inside the Harbor. I know the entrance to Solomon’s is a big, wide entrance, having kept my Catalina 25 there when I first moved to Maryland and, luckily when the storm hit, I am near Red 6. I remember that it is a straight shot from R6 to the entrance; I just need to know the heading.

About this time a very close cloud-to-ground lightning strike hits just about where I last saw Mark. I immediately get on the VHF: “MARK, MARK, MARK are you alright?” I wait for what feels like an eternity for a response and finally, after an extended pause, I get a “HOLY SHIT that was close” and I’m relieved it was a miss. When you can smell the ozone, you know it’s close. Now I really want to get in port so as to not be the tallest thing around, so I get back to find the heading on the charts from R6 to the entrance and then set off at a slow pace. It was good to know that, after years of relying on GPS chart plotters, I could still, in a pinch, resurrect my piloting skills.

All’s well that ends well they say and we slept well that night albeit a little damp.

 

Day 3

We start out from Solomon’s heading south planning to go to Deltaville or Reedville with the wind out of the East at 10 to 15. As the morning moves on, the wind slowly fades till we’re only doing 3 kts. Since up to today, we have not been able to sail, we stubbornly hang on resulting in not southing as much as we should have in order to make Deltaville at a reasonable hour. And now, I am having autopilot problems such that it is inoperable. It appears that the belt may be worn out– it is slipping and skipping cogs. We elect to run into Reedville and affect some repairs. As I am in the lead, I set out to find the buoy that marks the harbor entrance the old-fashioned way, sans croaked chart plotter. In order to do this, I break out my old trusty hand held GPS, which I used to navigate the first time Terri and I went south on the Bay to the ICW in our Tartan 34, pre-Chart plotter and pre-Abraxas days. At that time, in anticipation of needing entrance buoy information, I preloaded the hand held GPS with all necessary harbor entrance coordinates so that I wouldn’t have to insert them bouncing around at sea. Of course, when I turn on the unit, nothing happens indicating that the batteries are dead. Got new batteries in and it now turns on for the satellites but, as you can probably guess, when I look for the harbor entrance waypoints I entered so many years ago, they are no longer there. Apparently, without battery power, the memory does not hold onto this information, so I have to input new waypoint data, old school like I said. So, I key in the coordinates from my paper charts for the Reedville buoy, set a course to it, and off I go. Pretty soon after I wonder why to harbor buoy is not coming into view, I get a call from Mark on the VHF saying “where are you going, you’re way south of Reedville.” I check my work and realize that I made an input error; I turn around and head for Mark who has a working chart plotter and is heading for shore. When I catch up with him and start to follow him in, I see that he is headed for an small opening between two large fish traps; he thinks he sees a hole. He eventually makes it through, but I want nothing to do with this potential entrapment. l see one of the harbor buoys on the other side, so I go around the traps.

We finally get in and reject the first potential anchorage as it is downwind of the stinky fish factory and opt for one upwind. Mark elects to anchor on his own hook to condition his new rode; you will have to ask him about that. With the anchor down I start to replace the belt on the autopilot. This involves removing the drive unit from the wheel, taking the wheel off, and, finally, opening up the drive unit by prying it apart. To my horror I find that a mounting post that holds the clutch mechanism together has broken off because it’s just a cheesy little piece of plastic. I relate this to Mark over the VHF and he informs me that this has happened to him and is a weak point in the design, which he has solved by through bolting the offending piece in place. It is too late to deal with this now but fix it I must since without an autopilot I can’t keep the boat on course while I do what I have to do to navigate, which is clear from the mistake that occurred today. Tomorrow is another day, eat dinner, read some, listen to some music and go to bed.  Someone once said to me “ah, the exciting life of cruising, fixing stuff in exotic places.”

 

Day 4

Today is a lay day. We stay in Reedville, me to make repairs on my wheel pilot mechanism. Like any other boat that does long-range cruising, I have an extensive collection of repair parts and materials for repairs. I dig out some JBWeld, an epoxy repair compound, and glue the broken mounting post back on and then surround the post with a buttress of JBWeld to further reinforce it. After the JBWeld partially hardens, I through drill the screw hole through the base so that I can put in a longer screw that will stick out on the outside which will allow me to add a nut to make the mount bullet proof. Terri always accuses me of over engineering things, but my man Mark tells me this is what to do. Now we have to wait until tomorrow to put it to the test after the epoxy has time to fully cure.

The rest of the day is uneventful, with reading and writing. We will pull anchor tomorrow at first light.

Day 5

It is the next day and I pull anchor, but once again Mark is fighting with his anchor he’s screaming “I can’t get it up”. The windlass is failing him again. After much grunting and sweating he finally gets the anchor on board and we are off. Autopilot is doing well as the repairs have fixed the problem. We get out of the harbor and turn east directly into the 12 kt wind that has been blowing most of the night. Once again, the lighter C30 starts to bounce up, down, and around in the 2ft chop. We need to head east for a few miles or so before we can turn south, but we finally do, out come the jibs, and it’s off to the races. Norfolk here we come.

The autopilot is no long slipping and performs flawlessly, so now I can leave it unattended and concentrate on navigation. As we continue south the wind begins to build into the 15 to 20 range; we’re making good time. It is an uneventful but glorious sail for the rest of the trip. I arrive at the mouth of Hampton Roads, douse sail, find my way through the narrow channel into Willoughby Bay, and locate a place to anchor in the lee of its eastern shore to wait for Mark. Close to an hour later in he comes and again elects to anchor on his own in order to “condition” his rode, it is a fateful mistake.

We have made the 50 plus mile run from Reedville under sail and the hardest part is behind us.

 

Day 6

Today we wake up late as we expect to only go as far as the free docks in Portsmouth. Mark again has trouble getting his anchor up because of the slipping line hence the fatal mistake and in the drama that accompanied the anchor recovery Mark also fouls a crab pot which he drags for at least a quarter of a mile before freeing himself . We stop at the Portsmouth boating center to take on fuel and water. Terri and I used to stop here every year that we went down and back in the Ditch because they have fantastic diesel prices, this year $1.75/gallon with BoatUS discount.

We plan to tie up for the night at free dock at the North landing but we are sorely disappointed to find is has been removed for renovation and the High Street landing free dock has signs saying “no docking 12am to 6am” essentially not allowing overnight stays. With the rains from the tropical depression sitting off SC coupled with the expected high winds we elect to enter the relative safely of Dismal Swamp canal. We get to the Deep Creek lock, the first lock on the Ditch, early for the 1:30 locking through so I anchor and take Mark’s boat on the hip. When we get the call from the lock master to enter the lock, Mark breaks off and I start to draw in my 44lb Bruce. Just when I am about to pull it up off the bottom, I hear a POP, the anchor falls back in the water and the windlass won’t draw at all. (Later I establish that I lost a tooth on one of the gears in the gear box.) Now I am in fire drill mode trying to bring in the last bit of chain and the Bruce hand over hand. I just get the anchor out of the water when it’s my turn to enter the lock, so I leave it hanging like that. We are the only two boats in the Lock and up we go, 12 ft and out of the tub, but not before having our ears chewed off by the very talkative but nice lock master. I present him with a conch shell horn I made when Terri and I were last in the Bahamas; we forgot to give to him on our way back. It’s a kind of tradition as he collects then from many North-bound travelers; he probably has hundreds laying around.

Once out of the lock we immediately turn to Elizabeth’s Dock, a free dock set up by the town of Deep Creek. We decide to pull in here to lick our wounds: Mark and I are now both with dodgy windlasses, Mark is also now having issues with his autopilot not staying engaged and with his cockpit door, which has come unattached; and, for me, a growing leak problems: my water tank and leaking forepeak hatch. We assign the next day as a work/fixit day.

As a nod to our own cooking we decided to order takeout from the local Italian restaurant on recommendation from the lock master. He warned us that the portions we huge but I guess we didn’t believe him; Mark orders spaghetti with meat sauce and I order a “small” stromboli. Well the lock master was certainly not exaggerating as I get one dinner and two lunches out of my stromboli. As for Mark I don’t think he ate over half of his dish. Live and learn!

 

Day 7

So today we are getting rain, but it is a lay day because we have work to do. The list includes determining what is wrong with Marks windlass and his autopilot, which does not want to stay engaged, and then securing his cockpit door. The autopilot is an easy fix when we take the time to look at it, the engagement handle is loose. Easy fix: tighten it and check off one. Next, we tighten the screw holding the cockpit door on, easy fix and check off two. Now onto the heavy lifting, the windlass. It has been giving Mark fits all the way down, he says the 8 plait rode and the chain slips. I fear that Mark has purchased the wrong rode/chain though he profusely states that he ordered exactly what they specified. So, we go and inspect the windlass. I hit the up switch and I immediately know what the problem is, the clutch is not tightened enough and is slipping when a load is put on it. I take it apart to make sure and find that the clutch surfaces have been liberally greased — that certainly can’t help. We clean off the excess grease and really dog down on the clutch and that does the trick! Mark now has a working windlass; between the two of us with have one working windlass. Boy, are we on a roll. Three problems analyzed, three problems fixed, batting a thousand so far. We stop there though since it starts to rain harder and I can’t do what I want to check out my water leak.

 

Day 8

We are off the dock in preparation for the bridge to open that will allow us to get access to the rest of the Dismal Swamp Canal. What lies ahead of us is about 20 nm to the South Mills Lock. It is straight as an arrow except for one bend of about 20 degrees. About two thirds of the way down the canal there is a visitor’s center that has a dock with a faucet where I can take on some fresh water. I have burned through nearly 60 gallons of water in my starboard tank because the water heater pressure relief valve is leaking significantly more than when we started and even if I shut off the pump it still leaks, much less, but still leaking. We stop, get the water, and quickly get off the dock because we are trying to make the 1:30 locking. It is nip and tuck, looks like we will be 10 minutes late but the nice lady lock master lets us through as we are her only customers for this time slot. This dumps us out into Turner’s Cut which is a 3 or so mile canal that connects the locked part of the canal with the Pasquotank River that will bring us into Elizabeth City.

There are several free docks in Elizabeth City, two are before the city bridge and three are below and in the center of town. We elect to go through the bridge and take spots closer in town. The choices are between two side-tie slips and then slips of which there are ten or so of varying widths. Mark is a little trepidatious as the slips are pretty exposed to the SE from which the light wind is coming from. He has probably read that it can be nasty here if there is a substantial wind from that direction but the weather report calls for light wind the next couple of days. So, in we go and everybody gets secured, trusted up like a thanksgiving turkey.

We eat onboard our respective vessels and get to bed early, its been a long day.

 

Day 9

As promised the winds were light overnight and both Mark and I sleep late. We go out for breakfast, a coffee and a scone for me and a Mexi Coke for Mark (the one imported from Mexico that comes in a glass bottle and which has real sugar and tastes like Coke is supposed to taste—or so Terri tells me). As we hash over this day’s plans we decide, given all the problems we’ve faced, we should cut the trip short and head back home; but by the time the decision is made, it is too late to start plus we both need a grocery run.

It’s off to the Food Lion on foot 1.6 miles away, so says google maps. We stop on the way back at what appears to be the only place that is open with more than just the drive-up window, Taco Bell. It’s a couple of tacos and some drinks and we’re back on the sidewalk to the boats. After we get back Mark settles in with what ever (I think a nap was in the plan) and I dig in to the back of the boat to find out more about my water leak. To do this, I must empty the starboard side lazaret, remove the partition that separate the lazarette from the engine compartment, and crawl in to view the water heater, which is aft of the engine. What I discover is that the leak, which started before we left, is much worse than before, and is a steady dribble when the water system is pressurized. The offending component is the pressure/temperature relief valve on the water heater, I need a new one. In order to get a new one, I have to take a picture of the spec tag to see what to buy. As it turns out, the valve is different from a normal household water heater relief valve because it releases at 75 psi rather than 150 psi. Can’t be simple and just go to Home Depot. Shite. I’ll just have to turn off the pump and bleed off the pressure. Did I mention fixing your boat in exotic places? While Elizabeth City can’t be considered exotic by any stretch of the imagination, it certainly is not home.

Clean up, make dinner, have a bourbon or scotch, and hit the bed. Exciting.

 

Day 10

Woke up at dawn as usual. We’re going back up the Ditch instead of coming back via the Virginia Cut, the original plan, so we will wait around for 7:30 bridge opening. No wind this morning and it is easy getting off the docks. We head our way up to South Mills lock, weaving back and forth up the Pasquotank River. The duck weed seems to have multiplied since we came through here a couple of days ago, but Abraxas is leading not unlike an ice breaker parting the ice. Mark is following in my wake. Still I warn him to pay attention to the engine temperature in case he gets a clog. On we go, right on time for the lock opening when disaster strikes. I am a little ahead of Mark and just around the next curve from him when I get the cry, “Neal turn around I need help I’m in the bushes”. I later learn that Mark set his autopilot and ran below to get himself a cold drink and the pilot develops a mind of its own and does what I call a crazy Ivan.

So, I head back around the corner and see Endeavor nearly fully into the bushes on the west bank, listing to port exposing a substantial amount of bottom paint. It does not look good. We have two options here, try to pull her back out with Abraxas or call TowBoat US, which is back in Elizabeth City, hours away. We elect door number one. Problem one: I must present my stern to Endeavor so I can go forward to pull with greatest power. Problem two: Abraxas does not behave well when backing up–one never knows whether she will go left, right, or straight; and once going in her chosen direction will respond to helm correction. Basically, it’s a freakin crap shoot. To make matters worse, I have to hit a spot between a deadhead to starboard and a great bush to port that is just a little wider than Endeavor’s beam. If I hit the deadhead, I’ll probably bend my prop. If I back into the bush and its root system, I’ll be stuck too. Well, Abraxas must have felt my concerns because she went in straight as an arrow and I was able to throw Mark a line. He tied it off a I gunned the engine in forward gave him a mighty yank whilst he gunned it in reverse. That got him part way out but turned me so that I was now more parallel to the shore and perilously close to the the aforementioned deadhead. With some jockeying I got better aligned and gave another yank to get the C30 out. Praise the lord we don’t have to wait hours in this wilderness for TowBoat US. I am amazed that we succeeded as Endeavor, at full throttle, was fully engulfed in the bushes at the side of the river. It was also lucky that along this stretch of the river there was a buffer of substantial bushes rather than mature trees, which would have been damaging. The bushes cushioned the boat. Oh, and did I forgot to say that all of the above was done in a downpour, how could I forget?

Now we had to hotfoot for the lock so we would not miss the scheduled lock through and get there on time we did. Our plan is to stop and overnight at the same free dock as we did on the way south, but first we had to experience a little more drama, as if we haven’t had enough already. I hear a call on the VHF from Mark saying that he running hot and the engine is NOT spitting any water: duck weed strikes. Mark does the right thing and immediately shuts down. The real problem here is that if you don’t stop early enough you can fry your impeller and now you got a bigger problem than just needing to flush the filter. You’ve now got to change an impeller. While Mark is below clearing the block, Endeavor noses perpendicularly into the side of the canal. He doesn’t realize it but he has done the correct thing, last thing you want to do is lay up against the side because it exposes your prop to any deadheads that may be on the side of the Canal. There is a guy in Elizabeth city who is a master at straightening props, I know because I’m one of his customers, ask me and I’ll tell you the story some time.

Anyway, Mark clears his raw water filter we’re back on our way to Elizabeth’s dock at Deep Creek Lock. No more drama for the day, docking went smoothly. Mark asked me if I was going to order delivery from the local Italian restaurant again. I didn’t like the Stromboli I had the last time but Mark thought the spaghetti with meat sauce was good so we decided to share that because the last time it was a massive serving. However, they have a $20 minimum for deliver, so Mark has a repeat and I elected to go with lasagna both of which turned out to be two meals worth and delicious.

 

Day 11

We’re off the dock at 10:40 for the 11:00 lock. We kind took the morning off since we only had to go 15 miles with a fuel stop in Portsmouth then back to Willoughby Bay. Somehow best made plans seem to fall apart. As we are going down the Elizabeth River, we see a very dark cloud mass to our port stern. When we get to the turn off for the fuel stop, I tell Mark to go in for his badly needed fuel and I will stay out in the wide river just in case the black mass hits. I would rather be in open water than in the tiny basin where the fuel dock is located. I suggest to Mark that if it does hit then he should stay on the fuel dock. Can you guess what happened? You’re correct if you said that the black cloud hit us, me on the river and Mark at the dock: rain and lightning all around, some wind but not too much. I run to the windward water-front to get into the lee of high-rise hotels and hope the buildings will make a better target for lightning than me. As one of the free dock basins is right there, I tie up and wait it out.

The storm finally passes, Mark calls and says he’s moving out to Willoughby so I cast off to follow. We still have 5 nm to go. Mark will anchor out on his own hook and this will be the first test of the “fixed” windlass. Spoiler alert: it works like a charm. I anchor with my spare anchor, a bloody 20 lb Danforth with 15 ft of chain. End of a short day.

This is our staging point for the remaining three-day run up the bay.

 

Day 12

The day starts as usual, up before the sun rises, pull up the anchor and off we go, destination either Reedville or Deltaville weather permitting. I end up struggling with the Danforth because I have to bring it aboard over the lifelines since my bow roller is occupied by my useless all chain 44 lb Bruce. Oh, do I miss my windlass.

Let me digress here for a minute and explain the issues with heading north from Norfolk to home, if one wishes to stop at night. A problem arises because there are a limited number of anchorages on the western short between Norfolk and the northern part of the Bay. From Norfolk, for instance, the first reasonable stop, Deltaville, is 34 nm up the Bay. The next 16 nm up to Reedville finds very few reasonable anchorages. Then, after Reedville, the next available anchorage, Solomon’s, is 39 nm away. This dictates that the first day out of Norfolk you need to stop somewhere between Deltaville and Reedville. We elected to try to make it to Reedville because there was a greater chance of T-storms on the second day and we did not want a later arrival to Solomon’s due to the possibility of storms.

We are forced to motor all the way and make Reedville ahead of the threatening storm. The storm dissipates just before we get there. I spend much too much time trying to set the Danforth.  It takes three tries but I am still not confident of the hold. The weather says the winds will stay light over night, but I will not sleep well this night. Mark comes in during my struggle with that damn Danny boy and anchors on his own hook.  Eat, read, bourbon, bed.

 

Day 13

I have a terrible night as predicted. Every bump and squeak gets me up to check on the anchor, so by morning I sleep through our usual waking time and go on deck to find Endeavour gone. I expect that Mark made an early getaway because of the long haul to Solomon’s and the potential for late afternoon t-storms. The trip itself was uneventful under motor with virtually no wind from astern. I eventually catch up with Mark just before Solomon’s.

Upon arriving we anchored separately, me making the fateful mistake of not anticipating a 180 degree wind shift in the storm to come–and come it did–first with a 90 degree shift as expected with strong winds from the West. I let out more rode because I do not trust the freaking Danforth and the rode has only 15 feet of chain. The release of more rode bites me in the butt when the winds make a further 90-degree shift and drive me sideways against the northern bank. Fortunately, the winds from the north decrease a bit and lasts a shorter time. Finally, the storm passes and the winds die, but now I am firmly aground in the shallows against the northern bank. Well, that’s why we have TowBoat US. After analyzing the situation and tightening up the rode I realize the anchor is about 30 degrees off the bow so I rig a snatch block on the bow roller, run the rode through it back to the main winch, and start, crank banking on the fact that the Danforth will hold. As I crank the winch, I see that the bow is inching slowly toward open water which tells me that the strong west wind we experienced during the storm had buried the anchor well. Long story short, I am able to kedge Abraxas off the shoal and back into the deep water. All’s well that ends well. TowBoat US call averted. The rest of the night is peaceful with less drama.

 

Day 14

The day for Abraxas starts with the effort now of extracting the well-buried Danforth from the bottom; this requires bit more effort than usual since it has to be done by hand because the windlass is defunct, but out it comes. We then left Solomons in practically a dead calm, me steaming for home and Mark to join NC3 in Tilghman Creek.

It has been a good trip; we both had boat issues, but rose to the challenges and overcame them. They say that cruising is defined as fixing your boat in exotic places; though we were not in exactly exotic places, we were certainly far from our home bases.

You might call the trip the good, the bad, and the ugly but, for Mark and me, it was all enjoyable. The first mate agrees that a good time was had by all.

 

Neal Musto

Abraxas