Made It

Okay, so…I kinda dropped off the face of the Earth after that last post. I’m not really sure why, to be honest, but here I am to wrap up my 2023-2024 adventure. Suffice it to say: I made it back to Annapolis. It wasn’t without some hiccups, but I made it.

The short version is this: Further and I hoisted anchor in Beaufort, N.C., on Monday, 6 May, and started north. Given the weather forecast for the Atlantic Ocean, I opted to retrace my path up the Intracoastal Waterway rather than rounding Cape Hatteras in adverse conditions. I topped up the diesel tank — in the process of which I learned that there was about one more gallon, or six-ish miles, on board after my hair-raising trip from the Bahamas — and proceeded north for about two hours. I anchored in a spot called Cedar Creek, just short of the Neuse River. It was an uneventful anchorage and there were three other boats nearby, including my friend, Ben, whom I’d met down in Marsh Harbour.

The following morning, Ben was up and out of the anchorage before me, but I caught him not far past Oriental, N.C., a nice little town in which I’d stopped on the way south in November. What was especially nice was that there was enough wind to actually sail on the ICW; Ben got a decent photo off Further with her genoa rolled out as we powered down the Neuse toward where it joined Pamlico Sound.

That was where we turned toward the northwest, into the teeth of the wind so it was back to engine-only, as we made our way toward the Pamlico and Pungo rivers and a slip we’d reserved in Belhaven, N.C. We’d anchored out farther up the Pungo in November, so it was nice to check out the quaint town we’d missed on the way south.

We were off super early the following morning because it was a long run to our next stop in Coinjock, N.C. The northwest wind continued, resulting in a lot of motorsailing up the Alligator River, across Albemarle Sound and (especially) as we wound down the day heading up the North River. My second night in Coinjock, my second prime rib for which the marina there is famous.

Another early start on Thursday and we were part of a continuous parade of boats heading north up the ICW. Things got especially packed heading up the North Landing River in Virginia, as a series of large barges had every other vessel backed up behind them.

What was especially comical, though, was when Further and I reached the lock at Great Bridge we were able to follow those barges and into the lock: Further’s 13-foot beam meant we could slide in beside the barges and tie up right by where we would all exit the lock. Several power catamerans who’d blown by Further (most of them carelessly throwing out huge wakes as they went by at full throttle) were stuck waiting to enter the lock behind the barges. Sidebar: I spent that time in the lock chatting with a young man who was a deckhand on the lead barge; he hailed from Columbia Falls, Montana, the town where I’d lived back in 1996.

Once the lock opened, Further was the first boat out onto the Elizabeth River. Thanks to an ebbing tide, Further rocketed north toward Norfolk and the Chesapeake. There was one slight delay while a work crew finished up on a closed railroad drawbridge, but other than that, we never saw those other pesky catamerans; they must have remained stuck behind the barges.

We tied up that night at The Docks at Downtown Hampton, the city-run marina in the heart of Hampton, Virginia. It was a nice facility, within easy walking distance to all sorts of restaurants and other amenities — including the Virginia Air and Space Museum, at which the airplane nerd in me spent a delightful Friday afternoon.

On Saturday, it was back on the move — and naturally, Further and I ran right into a fierce headwind as we entered the Chesapeake Bay off Fort Monroe. We took a beating for a couple of hours before the wind finally eased, taking the short, choppy seas with it. An uneventful motor trip wound up that evening in Deltaville, Virginia, but this time on the south side of the peninsula.

Sunday is when things got sporty. Naturally, right? The closer you get to a journey’s end, the more things go awry.

An early motor out of Jackson Creek and back onto the Piankatank River, and then we turned north up the Chesapeake. It was a pleasant morning, going along quite nicely under full sails and engine. We crossed the state line into Maryland and were almost all the way to the northern shore of the Potomac River when I noticed several thunderheads off toward the northwest. I wasn’t too concerned; they were in the forecast. But what WAS distressing was when the oil-pressure alarm on the engine suddenly started blaring — right as one of those thunderheads cranked the wind up over 20 knots. Grrrrrrreat.

I definitely didn’t want the engine running without oil so I just shut down the engine immediately. Then I grappled with the sails, trying desperately to get Further under control as the squall-like conditions of the isolated thunderhead had her right at the edge of control.

What was especially frustrating was as soon as I got the main reefed down and the genoa rolled up a bunch so I had Further under control, the storm cell had moved on and the wind dropped back down to almost nothing. So I unfurled everything and started sailing again as best I could — right up until the next storm arrived and I had to repeat the reefing action.

This went on for three cycles: too much wind right on the nose or no wind from the stern. And no engine to push us through both situations.

The storm cells eventually moved on and I went back to full sails and light wind. It was a long, slow afternoon making our way up the bay, including about a five-hour stretch where were basically becalmed just off the Patuxent River Naval Air Station. I kept waiting for some patrol boat to come arrest me for being too close to the facility, but thankfully they let me be…must have known what kind of day I was having.

Eventually, I was able to guide Further into the Patuxent River itself, and I turned the corner to anchor under sail behind Drum Point at around 10 p.m. It had been an exhausting, frustrating 14-hour day, and I wasn’t able to get into the anchorage (and infrastructure) of the town of Solomon’s, where I’d spent my first night out after leaving Annapolis in October, but we were secure. And I slept pretty damned well that night.

But I was up early the next morning. The FINAL morning, I hoped. The lack of wind made it easy to hoist the anchor, and Further ghosted out from Drum Point at just a couple of knots of speed under genoa alone. That slow speed continued until we were back out onto the Chesapeake, proper, and it continued as we tacked our way up the bay before a light southerly breeze. Tacking back and forth was a quicker point of sail than simply pointing dead downwind, and things paid off around lunchtime when the windspeed jumped (again, as forecast) as we neared Chesapeake Beach, Maryland, on a northwesterly heading from the mouth of the Choptank River. A sporty gybe given the strong winds and it was one long tack under 16- to 20-knot south-southeasterly winds from off Chesapeake Beach to due east of Annapolis. Another gybe there and it was a simple reach to the mouth of Back Creek, Further’s home water. TowBoatUS met us there and took us to Port Annapolis Marina, where we’ve been ever since.

I have to confess that I’ve not been in sailing mode since my return. It’s been a lot of boat work (the engine problem was simply a case of really gunky oil; I changed that and the filter and the engine has worked fine…knock on wood) and a lot of personal work. I had some surprising medical issues pop up at the beginning of June and I’ve been managing my health since then. It’s been great seeing friends again and I’m once again playing (a lot) of hockey here in Annapolis.

And now that autumn has arrived, I’m wrestling with what to do for the coming fall and winter. Will it be back to the workforce? Or back to the tropics? Maybe a plan to be named later? Stay tuned, both here and over on my other site, to find out.