Marking the anchor chain |
We have finally "left". We left our house some time ago (and left mentally some time before that), but we finally left the dock in Deale, Maryland. There were many small and medium things to do on the boat before we left, and some big things. Examples of small things are marking the depth on the anchor chain. Examples of medium things are making the autopilot work, fixing the instruments at the top of the
520# of ballast |
Sometimes you just have to stick your head in an engine |
But small and large problems aside, the truth is that days pass magically fast living on a boat, even at the dock. There are of course day sails and weekend cruises. But beyond that there are plenty of interesting people to talk with, people who actually have time to talk. And there are plenty of interesting projects to occupy time. And on boats, at least on older ones, any given project will cause you to discover another important project that you should do first or at the same time, and then this again and sometimes again, so you end up with three or four projects going on at once. And if you're living on the boat, you're constantly stepping through, climbing around, and eating with these projects until you can't stand it, and you put away all the parts and tools and start over some other day with none of projects completed.
The to-do list on a cruising boat is endless, but eventually one must tear up the list and go. We left with
many things undone. (The deadweight generator is still with us and working fine as ballast.) We are now at Mile 0 of the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), which is in Norfolk. (Mile 0 is a cool concept, and our kids have seen the museum there by land, so we wanted to connect them to it by sea.)
We had an interesting run down the bay to get here. We had winds on the quarter one day that had us surfing down waves at 8.2 knots (faster than our hull speed). We had winds exceeding 30 knots one night in a small anchorage in Solomons Island. I was up for several hours, making sure we didn't drag our anchor (and hit the shore or another anchored boat), and I watched two other boats around us drag past.
We spent a couple nights in the southeastern bay at Tangier Island, an island remote enough that the residents still speak a brogue that is close to what was spoken in 17th century England. They are mostly watermen, and a hearty, self-reliant breed they are, making several trips out per day to check crab traps regardless of whatever nasty weather is blowing, and repairing their own boats, gear and houses. As for the island's physical appearance, I have never seen anything like it outside of a movie or video game. The streets and houses currently in use on solid land are mostly pretty well-kept, but all over the waterways through the island are abandoned houses and fishing shacks, dilapidated docks, and sunken boats. There is an entire portion of the island (Uppards) that's been abandoned due to rising water. The island has a forlorn feel to it, and this underscores the toughness of those who live there. It has a very closed-in feel - this is a very small island - but also a serenity that is very appealing. (More Tangier pictures below).
Breakfast going down the ICW in '98, "Chuck" steering |
More Tangier Island Pictures:
Hi, Greg and crew. Reading this post tonight, 10/30. Hope Southing progresses. If you end up in Charleston, remember that our friends from Northeast Harbor live there. Tom & Linda
Thanks Guys. I had forgotten their southern location.
Southing has taken a little northeastern detour, but all is under control. Cash is writing a post about it so I won't steal his thunder here. Hope things are going well.
Greg
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