Tim J Dull
15 Sept – 19 Oct
An evening underway again. However, a little different “plan” this trip. My normal start is to load up the boat for the cruise, then head up to salt Ponds the evening before. This gets me across the
HRBT so I do not have to fight the incoming tide in the AM and still ride the tidal current northward up the Bay the first day. One year I had done so, and then the winds were so favorable I just kept going through the evening and into the night until I arrived in Jackson Creek, Deltaville, thus having a great first day of sailing plus getting a good jump north for that trip.
This year I needed to get to Solomon Island, MD by the weekend to join my other Tartan 34
Classics members in our annual fall rendezvous. The trouble was a stationary high was to move in on
Tuesday with steady north winds through Friday. I really do not enjoy plowing into the Chesapeake
Bay chop for a whole day to get there. There was a window of good winds from the south predicted for
Monday night with a shift to the west Tuesday morning. The north wind would come in later in the afternoon Tuesday, so if I headed out Monday night with the tide and sailed throughout the night I had a good chance of making Cedar Point before the Bay became too choppy.
At 2100 I was underway from my southern home hoping for a good ride north to the Patuxent
River. Catching the north bound tide I was soon at a nice 6 kt downwind run heading up the Bay. One concern was running into one of the unlighted channel markers in the dark; however, I tended to stay off the buoy line and could “watch” for them on my hand-held chart plotter. The other was the everpresent crab pot floats bobbing in my way; but that problem was mitigated by there being so few of them from conservation efforts, and I couldn't see them anyway. Out of sight out of mind, seemed an appropriate thought. From my previous trips north, I knew the lengthy fish traps were only on the eastern side of the Bay until you sail into Maryland waters. The moon was out by 0100 so much of the trip was a pleasant moonlight sail. The only exception was the close passage of two southbound cargo ships just as I was a few miles from Smith Point Light. As I watched their running lights go from red to red/green to green, each made their respective turns to port to follow the traffic separation schemes and passed very comfortably to the east of my track.
By 0600 that morning I was at Smith Point ready to cross the oft-tempestuous Potomac. With the wind having just shifted to the west, however, there was little wave action as I arrived and I had a nice close-hauled run all the way across the river and up to Point No Point, which is just north of Point
Lookout. By then, the wind and the tide finally shifted against us. I went from making six knots over ground to just four inside a quarter of an hour. I was able to sail about two thirds of the final twelve
NM to Cedar Point but finally had to surrender and motor sail the final leg across the bar at Cedar Pt and into the Patuxent River. After about an hour of thrashing into the wind and building waves at Cedar
Point, I soon cruised past Hog Island Lt and Drum Pt into the Solomons. By 1330 I anchored just to port of the Green “5” in Back Creek in the cove at the front of the Back Creek Inn, a favorite B&B of
Carole and I.
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Skymark had covered 91.4 NM in 16 ½ hours, and I had consumed a thermos of coffee and an untold number of snacks and power bars and was properly fatigued. With “auto” working well throughout the night I had been able to move around a bit and keep a good lookout for shipping and other craft. I did not get dosey until the early morning when on the pleasantly restful beam reach across the Potomac. However, once I had the hook down and holding in Back Creek and the mainsail was sufficiently lashed down, I was fast asleep in the cockpit and only awoke four hours later for an afternoon snack.
0530 After a good supper and a full night's rest I am sitting here in the cockpit in the moonlight, scribbling a few notes and watching the watermen putter out to their fishing and crabbing grounds. A most pleasant way to start a day of leisure.
Early morning light Back Creek
Now later in the afternoon, and back in the cockpit, I have coined a new term for an old word
“piddling”. Most folks with rowing boats row. What are called “paddles” are really oars, even in what nowadays count for dinghies that most cruisers tow or stow for use in getting ashore from an anchorage or a mooring. These inflatable’s, sometimes with hard bottoms and sometimes soft, are a good distance from their cousin the rowboat in handling with manual labor. They are far from sleek as they are propelled haltingly through the water, more akin to the inchworm than even the most homely of real boats. What I observed today of many transiting the anchorage was a form of rowing that was closer to paddling. However, few were making a real effort of even that and appeared to be “piddling” along, dabbing rather than thrusting with their oars. “Piddling” it will be. I love cruising and idling my afternoons at anchor.
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Midweek was spent oiling the topside teak on Skymark and performing a thorough field-day of topsides and below decks to ready her for the expected visitors and other Tartan Classic owners over the weekend. This rendezvous has become an annual fall gathering between members of the Northern and Southern Bay chapters of our club. With very few mods on Skymark, and with her previous owners having maintained her in a very good shape, she is in nearly original condition albeit a bit worn in spots. The one unusual factory mod she has is the pilot berth above the port settee, which replaced the book shelves there but added three large stowage drawers beneath. My own air conditioner mod into the quarter-berth is about the only significant change made since she came into my hands. I did opt for a lighter shade of bunk cushions below to both brighten up the space and accent the dark woods found there; however, that is hardly a modification, more of a bring-up.
The rendezvous was a good success in that while only three vessels made it up or down the
Bay; thirteen were represented at the join-up dinner at the Lighthouse Inn. The Commodore's vessel was yet back in the water from a rudder repair and one of my colleagues from the southern group was still in the process of renovating his, although he had recently launched her after a seven year rebuild process. I am so happy with my pleasurably worn boat!
Spring Cove Marina (410-326-2161) was the perfect location for the rendezvous. It is a full service resort marina with not only the standard laundry & individual bathrooms which the elites have; its pool was a 25 meter pool with lap lanes which was also open through September, a very complete ships store with the Wheelhouse Bar & Grill, a complete Boatyard, picnic areas & playground, an executive boardroom style lounge & library suitable for group meetings of up to two dozen people, not only the standard courtesy bikes but a courtesy shuttle for transport throughout Solomons, a true resort in itself. Their dock prices were less than $2 per foot and included the third night free. Also handy next door was a tidy little Comfort Inn (410-326-6303) within an easy stroll of the docks; which is where
Carole stayed for the weekend.
As part of the Saturday evening's celebrations I provided a brief discussion on single-handing, pointing out the advantages of the T34C for that task. For each of the boats represented, my wife
Carole provided the party favors, which were neat quilt/appliqués of a Tartan at sea near sunset.
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Her “quiltlettes” received significantly more accolades than my handouts. It was good fun to tour the other Tartans; one, Victoria, from Oxford, and the other, Fayth, from the Baltimore area. Fayth had also been single-handed down the Bay for her two day trip. I picked up a few ideas for minor but very useful mods for Skymark and I think two of the other owners will be installing A/C units similar to
Skymark's per their spouse's requests.
While I had earlier planned to wait until Monday to head up the Bay, the weather forecast indicated the north winds would be filling in and strongly so by then. On Sunday morning, after wishing my spouse a safe drive home to Virginia Beach, I and Skymark got underway with Victoria, heading to what I intended to be an anchorage in the Oxford area of the Choptank River. During the trip north, however, Rick Clarke of Victoria suggested a new spot off Broad Creek on the north side of the
Choptank. As I rounded into the Choptank from the Chesapeake Bay I noted the distances for either Tar
Creek, one of my old favorites off the Tred Avon, or Baby Owl Cove were nearly the same. In the interest of exploring new spots I continued northeast to the entrance marker for Broad Creek. Not as you think, it is so named for its significant broad width up into the Eastern Shore. About two mile up,
Leadenham Creek leads off to the left and about another mile further Baby Owl Cove is the first of two long anchorages on the right. With nearly 300 degrees of tree lined coverage from the southwest all the way around to the southeast the only chance for stiff winds to get to you are directly from the south.
While a bit wider than described in the cruising guides it is nonetheless a beautiful spot to anchor as many as a few dozen boats comfortably. There were six of us there for the evening; two motor yachts in a raft, three of us sailboats, and a Canadian motor yacht, all anchored within sight but out of hearing of each other. As you enter there are a few homes scattered along the port shore and fields abut the starboard shore. As dusk settled in, a large flock of geese honked and splash-landed in to join us for the night. A very pleasant evening indeed after a day of motor sailing.
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A restful day spent at anchor, doing some minor engine maintenance and enjoying some time away from everyone. The winds have been blowing from the northwest at 15 to 25 since about 2 AM, but the trees along the shoreline have absorbed much of the effects, leaving an occasional gust through to water level which buffets the boat around slightly and serves to remind how comfy it is in a snug anchorage. I managed to change out the fuel filter without spilling even a drop of fuel into the bilge or onto myself. It was a task I had delayed for about 2 years too long for both of the reasons mentioned, but one that I needed to do. I had a disconcerting feeling during yesterday's motor-sail up the Bay that something was amiss; the engine would occasionally hesitate before rumbling on again. That served to remind me of the delayed project, although it may not have been the cause. Running the engine afterward both ensured the fuel lines were clear of air and served to charge the batteries.
In the evening, after I had devoured a fine supper of grilled sausages, the winds had calmed enough for me to row around the cove. A check of the scattered dwellings and grassy edges also provided a good stretch of my lower back muscles. A blue heron growl-squawked at me for disturbing his evening meal endeavors. I had heard him the previous evening as he chuffed his way to his tree top night berth, uttering that primordial noise that is so unnerving the first few times you hear it, particularly just at nightfall. Actually, it is still a bit unsettling when it bursts onto you unexpectedly.
The close of the day saw a brilliantly painted sunset, very nearly as dramatic as that pictured in Carole's just completed Tartan quilts. After I hauled in the Ensign from its perch on the transom and hoisted the anchor light for the night, some Oreos and a cup of coffee pretty well wrapped up the day for me.
With a relatively short trip planned for the day I was slow to get underway from anchor. I watched the rafted motor yachts break up and slowly motor out as I was setting up the auto pilot and hopefully getting the sails ready for some use during the trip to Oxford on the Tred Avon. As I was motoring out, one of the sail boats was also getting underway but I saw another coming in to replace them. The Canadian motor vessel folks were hauling up their anchor as I was threading my way past.
Since I had plenty of time on my hands I motored on up Leadenham Creek to Caulk Cove just a few hundred yards along the way. Motoring into Caulk I noted it was narrower than Baby Owl but also more developed along the shorelines. With full tree lines on each shore it seemed to be a good spot to go during a blow; however, I heard later that it tended to funnel the north winds and amplify them rather than knock them down as the trees had in Baby Owl Cove. As I cleared Caulk Cove I raised the mainsail with a reef since I was not sure what level of winds I would find while later crossing the
Choptank. It being much easier to shake out a reef than put it in while by myself. Soon I had turned out into Broad Creek and with the motor secured was wing and winging down the broad expanse of water, joining two other sailboats in a procession toward the Choptank.
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Skymark wind & wing, Auto steering
As the chill of the morning wore off I was shedding my extra wind breaker and enjoying my second cup of coffee of the day, Auto safely in charge of our direction of travel.
I entered the Choptank and was able to come to port a number of degrees. I was soon reaching pleasantly along the northern side of the Choptank. Halfway to the Tred Avon channel marker I passed another Tartan coming on the reverse course and discovered she was a newer 3800 class. We passed pleasantries as we came alongside and checked to see which Tartan club we each belonged to. She was a dark blue hulled beauty with the name of Rendezvous, appropriate for our past weekend in the
Solomon Islands.
I had thought of entering and anchoring in my old favorite fall location of Tar Creek for the night, however, my ice chest was slowly warming and was in need of more blocks of ice so I turned into Town Creek and toward Oxford instead. Reluctantly lowering my sails after a nice few hours of moderate cruising I was soon moored at the far end of the creek at one of the T-heads at
Campbell’s
Boatyard (410-226-5592). This is a far cry from what one envisions of a yard; it is more of a secluded oasis, away from the hustle and bustle seen in some marinas, with its well manicured and maintained buildings fitting nicely into the neighborhood of homes. There is plenty of boat work ongoing but the facilities are very top-rate, with clean showers and restrooms and full laundry facilities open around the clock. It is nestled in one of the older but updated neighborhoods in town and you are very comfortable walking around the site and along the short jog to the right to the town market. If you take a left on the main street you are within minutes of the locals' favorite bar and grill and restaurant, Latitude 38 (410-
226-5303). As luck would have it, I met my new-found Tartan Classic friends Rick and Carol at the bar there for a great evening of more sea stories and suggestions from all of us on good places to visit in each of our sections of the bay, Northern and Southern.
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With stormy weather predicted for the evening and night, and in spite of having a number of good anchorages to ride it out close at hand, I decided instead to just stay snuggled in at the dock at
Campbell's until this system cleared through.
After doubling up my lines and getting the boat set up for a number of hours of rain, I went for another quick trip to the local market for some good wines. Of equally great fortune, on the route back, I found the local farmers market had just set up, apparently in the hopes of selling some produce before the rains really roared in. Delightfully, that evening I was settled in under my rain awnings in the cockpit, munching on ears of sweet corn and fresh green beans, following those up with a large bowl of freshly sliced melon pieces for desert. A nice, peaceful day, and a full tummy, and I was ready for the comfort of my cozy bunk in the quarter berth.
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Fresh Veggie’s!
I waited out the worst of the wet weather in the morning by doing my laundry, and icing and watering the boat. Then, in spite of the left over drizzle and generally sad looking day, I headed out the
Tred Avon and turned south for the Choptank River toward Cambridge. I was soon clipping along downwind with just a reefed Genoa and making 6 knots with the drizzle hitting the bimini top instead of me in the cockpit. Thinking this was to be a quick but relative pleasant downwind run most of the way, I was not prepared for the winds to start shifting and building from the northeast. Not in the Sail
Flow predictions at all!
Within an hour of leaving the comfortable Town Creek I was surfing at 7 knots and had a steady
20 knots of relative wind shaking the rig. As I rounded up to port to clear the Hambrooks Bar Light I rolled up what little Genoa I had been using and motored my way into the wind and chop that was continuing to build. Clearing the light, I was headed well off the wind toward the US 50 bridge and trying to make out where the entrance to the marinas happened to be. Finally at the bridge, I turned to parallel it, as suggested by the Cruising Guide, and I am running bare poled with the engine at idle making five knots down the buoy line. Still with no clear idea where the entrances to either the City
Marina or Cambridge Creek lie, I am starting to run out of buoys.
Finally, I discern the breakwater across the entrance to the City marina but since I would have to run parallel to the wind and wave troughs on the approach to that channel I quickly decide to continue on until I can find the channel into Cambridge Creek. Luckily, a waterman returning to port cut across
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the flats and disappeared to port in front of me into what appeared to be just a bunch of buildings. Still making nearly five knots I followed him around a bend, and low and behold, there was Cambridge
Creek laid out in front of me! As I cleared the first of the buildings to port the wind noticeably diminished, and I was able to much more nonchalantly motor into the basin and get my bearings.
Entrance to Cambridge Creek
As predicted, just off to starboard was a long bulk-headed section in front of the County
Municipal Building, along a tree edged park and parking lot. Seeing another cruiser nestled up to it I figured this would be my place for the night. After a first attempt to get alongside I finally was moored carefully (it was concrete bulkhead) for the evening. Due to the unusually nasty weather only one skipjack had made it up or down the Bay today, so we had the area to ourselves. The trip had resulted in salt spray over the whole boat and I was bemoaning that fact when another and unpredicted band of rain storms rolled across us, providing a much needed fresh water wash-down.
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Skymark, the next morning
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Cambridge Creek Basin
Cambridge is another 19 th century waterfront city that is slowly making a recovery from a century of decline. Due to the infusion of funding from the recreational boating industry and state tourism there has been a resurrection of marinas such as the one off Long Wharf with a recently finished replica of the screwpile style light house which was on the Choptank River. There are numerous shops and restaurants within easy strolling distance from either the Cambridge Creek basin or from the Cambridge Marina. Museums abound including the Harriet Tubman Museum &
Educational Center which can be found along the Historic Walking Tour. Old town is just a short two and a half blocks up High street and to the left.
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Mural depicting Cambridge
On Friday morning, in anticipation of the rest of the band of skipjacks making it into town, I motored over to the Municipal Marina . The Harbormaster can be raised on channel 68 or better yet, at
410-228-4031, or cell 410-330-8016. The friendly folks at the County Building were very helpful in tracking both him and also the skipjack race director down for me, who had assured me we could stay the night alongside the bulkhead Thursday evening.
After I was secured in my berth at the Marina I went out for an easy run around the town to track down those important places such as pubs and ice cream parlors. There are numerous elegant homes along the way, soon however, turning into singles (similar to the reconstructed ones in
Charleston, except none of these have been reconstructed yet) as you got further from the water; I am sure they were the abodes of the numerous pickers who were employed during the town's hay days of crabbing and fishing.
Saturday, 27 September, dawned beautiful but with light winds, not a good sign for the skipjacks. After an easy breakfast of hot oatmeal I was underway, meandering toward the start line for the race, trying to find that good spot for photographs and that I would not interfere with the racers.
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(With the Choptank River Lighthouse in the background)
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After a 30 minute delay waiting for the winds to fill in a bit the race was finally on.
Skipjack Race off Cambridge Waterfront
Disappointingly, soon after, however, the breeze died and a number of the skipjacks had to be pushed away from both the committee boat and the Marina breakwater as the tide was moving them more sufficiently than the wind. Seven of the ships had made their way from as far north as Rock Hall while many were from Deal and Tangier Island from the south. The winds slowly filled and my friends on
Lady Helen were soon moving nicely to the windward mark.
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LADY HELEN
Of the group, they were the only ones who did not have to use their engine to either get back to the start line or avoid the committee boat. Unfortunately, with no centerboard as some of the other skipjacks had, they were hard-pressed to gain much ground upwind and finished fifth of the seven for the day.
Still altogether a nice day of sailing.
I made my way back to the County bulkhead in Cambridge Creek where I had spent the first night. However, it was filled with skipjacks. I anchored in the basin instead and rowed ashore for the post-race party and refreshments.
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Skipjacks in Cambridge Creek
After a couple of the skipjacks headed out following the party, I dinghied out and returned Skymark to the bulkhead.
Skipjack Lady Helen (Skymark in background)
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Skymark in Cambridge Creek (Snappers Bar & Grill in background)
I spent the rest of the afternoon at a variety of street parties as the town celebrated “Crabtoberfest” a combination of the traditional Oktoberfest of beer and a Crab festival. The local brewpub was in high insanity along with an ongoing seafood feast outside in the street. RAR was a bit too much fun and noise, so after a sampler of five I headed back to my boat for a steak on the barbie. I wrapped up the day with a quiet evening at Snappers Restaurant (410-228-0112) watching college football. Another good day on and around the water.
The morning dawned with a thick fog, some may say pea-soup, but I would call it more like potato-soup, as it was a thorough white-out, not green at all. Finally about 0800 the sun was starting to burn it off and I could see the exit from the basin from my spot on the bulkhead, so with all nav lights on, I was on my way north. I was hoping to get to the Magothy River, but in my pocket was the bail-out into either the West River or South River, as it was going to be a day of motoring with no predicted winds from any direction. And sunny. I was not looking forward to the motor trip; however, with Auto doing a fine job in the flat waters, I had cleared the Choptank with the aid of a knot of outgoing tide and was heading up the Bay toward Thomas Point Lighthouse.
While I was crossing the flats just north of the Sharp Point Lighthouse, dodging the lines of fish traps to the north and east of my route, I could see many of the buy-boats and skipjacks from Saturday's race making their way north to either Tilghman Island or Rock Hall. The Sunday “fishermen” were also out, plowing up the water as they raced from one perceived good spot to the next. In most cases they were going too fast to see the schools of menhaden boiling to the surface chased by the rock fish below.
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Good for the rock fish.
I came past the South River and made my decision to continue on northward; however, I was soon to regret it and wish I had diverted into either of my optional destinations. One word of caution, just as in traveling on asphalt highways, “Do not travel on Sundays on our inland waterways”. In spite of there being a dead calm, the waters outside of Annapolis all the way to the Bay Bridge had been churned into a maelstrom of confused waves, some rogue, some just crazy; all by the deep-hulled water-sportsmen zooming hither and yon in their meanderings about the area. With no breeze to hold the mainsail against the buffeting, Skymark rocked and rolled for the entire five miles. I resorted to lashing the main boom to port and starboard to limit its swings, but it was an unforgiving portion of the trip with even faithful Auto hanging it up until we had passed under the Bay Bridge. In retrospect, I should have motored into one of the earlier rivers to port for the afternoon, and continued my trip north past Annapolis in the morning. Adding heartbreak to the whole process, the engine began missing as I was trying to coach a little more speed from her, so I was pressed to slow down to a little less than five knots and wallow along in discomfort.
Finally under the Bay Bridge, the tidal current shifted to the north and swept me comfortably past Sandy Point Light to port and toward the Magothy River entrance. I had stayed on the red side until well clear of the bridge to let two Baltimore bound carriers get past and found the water under the right span from center to be a nice fifty plus feet, with not too much swirling around the pilings, which
I noted for future use. The bridge height at those spots is a comfortable 180 some feet, plenty for wee
Skymark.
By late afternoon I was motoring through the channel into the Magothy, rather constricted for such a large river, and of course filled side to side with the weekend fishermen still drifting about, oblivious to any boats coming in or out the channel. Turning to starboard toward the green “1” at the tip of Dobbins Island, I lowered my well-flapped mainsail, and soon was idling slowly toward the narrow entrance to Grays Creek. As you continue past the Green “1” maintain the heading toward a red “2” day beacon just in the foreground of the beach ahead of you. The channel will open up nicely as a slight turn to port. It has four more prominent markers, two red, two green, which lead you through 9 foot of water and into the creek. The Cruising Guides claim there is not room for two vessels to pass through; however, I found it quite comfortable, particularly compared to the channel into salt Ponds down our way. There is a tidy little anchorage off to port after you clear the channel, and you will find the one fathom line extends well into it. There is also a full-service marina, Atlantic Marina on The
Magothy 410-360-2500, if you bear off just a bit to starboard after clearing the channel markers. I found using the chart plotter on my hand-held GPS particularly useful in circling the anchorage and later putting around to the marina the next day. Oh, and the marina has ice cream; sorry, not hand dipped! That evening dozens of local boats, sail and power, slipped quietly into the creek and glided into their respective dock areas the crews chatting quietly about ones that got away and having to do this again next weekend. Although I had felt mentally exhausted after the day, after a bit of chill time I had the bar-be cranked up and was soon enjoying a couple of brats and a can of baked beans, content to have nowhere to go the next day.
Grays Creek is a quiet anchorage, and while it is located in a residential neighborhood, it is well clear of the mega-home developers who have “urbanized” so much of our waterfronts over the past few decades. The homes there are, in general, simple summer places which have now been converted to full time homes by the owners. Very few are ostentatious, but all have their own small, crookedy docks with mostly day sailors and weekenders, a mixture of power and sail. On Monday morning as I was
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rowing ashore for my much-needed run, one of the local fishermen gave me directions to a great market place just a few blocks up the road where I could get whatever food supplies I might need. He even offered the use of his truck, parked at the nearby park, to make my trip easier if I needed more than a few things. I like this place more and more each year I return.
Gray’s Creek
During the remainder of Monday, the 29 th
, I spent some time after my run doing a much needed spark plug change on the old Atomic Four, something that I had not done for two and a half seasons.
The plugs were plain ugly, with one's tip nearly gone. Of course I had a set of four brand new ones tucked away waiting for just this kind of rainy day. I had picked them up two seasons ago as spares when I discovered one of the new plugs back then had failed at berth. Planning to change the whole set out early this season; sailing season not fall season. Another of those “round to it” things. The condition
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of the plugs may explain the “hesitation” under load I was hearing days before which resulted in the change out of the fuel filter.
Later in the afternoon I motored over to the Atlantic Marina (410-360-2500), completely hidden about two hundred meters just around the bend, and topped off the fuel and water tanks and the ice chest, and dumped the holding tank. The folks there are so handy and helpful; what a great facility.
And I slurped up another ice cream, treating myself with two for the day. (I had one earlier in the day at the end of my morning run.) In the late afternoon, in a measure to conserve my heating fuel for the much-needed daily coffee, I heated a can of vegetable-beef soup on the engine manifold while it was running to finish topping off the batteries for the night. And, yes, I made care to place the can so that it would not get free and go clanking around the engine compartment and damage any important pieces of machinery, plus make a tomato-based mess of things in general. The heated food trick I had read in someone's tale of off-shore racing with a failed cook stove. In the evening I was reading a good book under cover in the cockpit. As the drizzle cleared there was a combination of brilliant skies to the west and a partial rainbow to the east, a proper fitting to a good day aboard at and around a scenic anchorage.
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Sunset, Gray’s Creek
Grays Creek
I was underway slowly in the morning since I was only going a few more miles upriver to dock at a fellow Tartan Classic owner's condo just a few yards before the entrance to Dividing Creek. I was early arriving at the condo so went on around the point to explore Dividing Creek, a twisty but well protected inlet near the headwaters of the Magothy. It will be a nice place to visit next time I am up the
Bay this far as there were numerous anchorages along its tree-lined length. Perhaps next year.
Arriving at my friends' David and Mary Ina's community dock, I found him standing by, ready to handle my lines. Soon I was tucked alongside a good strong structure, which also appeared to be in good repair. It was fine place to tie up for that evening and night as the winds were calm and predicted to remain that way; however, it would not do if the winds picked up out of the north as there was a long fetch of water in that general direction. I could understand why Skymark was the only one there midweek. There was plenty of water alongside even at low tide, so I was comfortable leaving her there for a few hours with fender board and extra fenders in place. They were excellent hosts and soon had helped me track down my much-needed butane bottles at an Ace Hardware and also stopped for groceries so I could restock the boat's larder. That evening they treated me to a fine grilled steak and baked potato feast with an ample amount of wine flowing with the conversations. Future trip planning,
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along with sea stories and tall tales filled the dining room into the night. A long hot shower in a real bathroom and I was soon tucked away for a good night's rest.
After a sumptuous breakfast with much needed coffee and juices, I was underway mid-morning to head up the Bay a bit further to explore Bodkin Creek just at the mouth of the Patapsco River. The trip out of the Magothy River was so smooth that I was able to perk up a full pot of coffee along the way. Bodkin Creek was on my itinerary as a special request from my wife whose revolutionary war relative, Hugh Botkin, may have been in someway related to the naming or founding of this region's
Bodkin Point, Bodkin Creek and Bodkin Point Shoal. Bodkin and Botkin had been interchangeable throughout her family's history. Within two hours I was motor sailing into the mouth of Bodkin Creek and had none of the problems with shoaling which had been mentioned in the Cruising Guide. I chose to head up Back Creek to the right as there was a Bodkin Marina at its head where I hoped to get some answers. This branch was relatively narrow and would not have been a good place for a summer anchorage; however, it was perfect for this fall weather. I anchored in a few feet of water with just enough swing room to clear the piers on one side of the creek and the trees on the other.
Bodkin Creek
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Bodkin Creek
A few yards further was Bodkin Marina ; however, after rowing over to it in the dinghy I discovered no one around to question either its history or the history of Bodkin Creek.
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Bodkin Marina
Later that afternoon, I motored the dingy around to a much larger marina just a few hundred yards up
Main Creek. It was a fully equipped yard and service center; however, I was disappointed to find neither any information on Bodkin Point nor any ice cream. While they did have room for transients they indicated that most folks who ventured into Bodkin anchored in one of the many coves and creeks instead of staying at the marina. Very understandable, as that was exactly what I had just done.
The anchorage proved to be just as enjoyable as I had hoped, and following another good meal of brats and mashed potatoes, I was entertained by a serenade of bird songs, cricket chirps and frog croaks, interrupted occasionally by the Jurassic squawk of one of a number of blue herons who were settling into their favorite trees for the evening. After a review of my trip the next day to St Michaels I was more than ready to settle in for the night.
Another day on the Bay with clearing skies and a lot of dew on the boat. Following a clampdown to get up most of the water on deck I was underway to start working my way southward.
Destination was St Michaels Harbor and specifically the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, where I have a membership. As I cleared the small creek where I had anchored I raised the main sail hoping to at least get an assist from the predicted northeast winds as I crossed to the eastern shore. I unfurled the genoa to assist a bit more as I cleared Botkin Point Shoals and soon was idling the engine down to the point I needed to secure it because the boat was healing a bit too much for the engine's good. Making five and a half knots over ground, I was sailing for the first time in about a week! With the dinghy burbling quietly astern I had an easy crossing through the numerous crab pot floats and aids to navigation scattered across the flats between the Baltimore shipping channel and the one leading
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further up the Bay past Swan Point to the east.
Too soon I needed to turn down wind for the channel through Kent Narrows and passing Love
Point into the Chester River past Swan Point was once again motoring along with the sails rendering some assist from the gentle rolling of the Bay waters. Heading south I started to trail another sailboater who was also making for the Narrows, and hoping to follow a “local” through the channel, I stayed behind him. (Later on why that may not have been a good idea.) I cross through this area only once a year so am always apprehensive about the shoaling I may find in the dog-leg channel on the north of the Narrows so I like to follow other folks if I can. Just as we got to the channel a Down East style trawler passed us both into the channel so we had what I considered a fair guide ahead of us. We were approaching high tide and I saw no less than seven feet of water anywhere in the dog-leg and mostly ten to twelve after that juncture. The current was really ripping against us however, as my SOG dropped from 5.5 to 3.8 as we approached the lift bridge.
Kent Narrows Lift Bridges (US 50 in the foreground)
Timing was perfect in spite of it and the bridge lifted precisely at 1030 and the three of us were able to slip though all in trail, wobbling sometimes violently as the water was churned to and fro by the rips around the bridge structures. One of the cautions that is always mentioned in the Guides is that the lift bridges do not go all the way vertical, so you must stay right in mid-span or you could sproing your shrouds against either side of the lift if you are not careful. (“Sproing”ing is the sound I would expect the shrouds to make if they inadvertently plucked at the bridge structure.) The mast swung crazily
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enough from the rolls that I wasn't sure I wasn't going to touch both sides anyway; however, I was soon past and sent a thank you off to the bridge tender for getting us all through.
As I mentioned earlier, I soon would have another comment about the sailor I was following through the Narrows. After we had both cleared the channel south of the Narrows and were headed fair down the Eastern Bay towards the Miles River entrance, I noticed he fell off to port a bit more than I had and was soon putting up his sails. I just figured he had decided to sail slowly down the Bay from there, not a bad idea. However, as I watched him raise his mainsail without coming about into the wind,
I thought it was strange. Soon he had both sails up but had not started to make headway. I believe he had managed to get his boat aground; probably not the right fellow to be following through skinny water.
By 1230 I was welcomed into a slip at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum (410-745-
2916), one of the perks of being a member of the organization. One can tie up there for free during the day and/or pay a nominal fee for staying overnight.
Slips at Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum grounds, St Michaels
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View of Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum
I was in need of some hand-dipped ice cream and a good Irish beer, and I wanted to watch
Thursday night football in the evening, so I opted to stay overnight. Just up the street from the Museum is an ice cream shop with numerous flavors of hand-dipped goodness and just two blocks to the left is your choice of either the local Carpenter Street Pub or a newer Irish pub two doors down. Life was slow as the season is winding down during weekdays, but all were open and I enjoyed ice cream, a couple of dark drafts, a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries, and the first half of the football game, each layered on sequentially throughout the rest of the day.
A very good day ashore, extended for another night due to a storm coming through overnight.
My decision to stay made it so I met some folks who had just come down from their permanent home in the Back River branch of Bodkin Creek, where I had just visited. Beth and Peter VandeGeijn in
Wayward Wind stood into harbor and moored on the quay wall just in front of the Maritime Museum on Friday afternoon. We were soon chatting about old locations and new destinations. Interestingly,
Beth is also a DAR member and had a number of details about Bodkin Point history which I quickly passed onto Carole. I had to have passed their vessel, a nicely appointed single masted Freedom Yacht, at least four times while transiting Back Creek both in Skymark and my dinghy as I was out and about looking for ice cream and Irish pubs. I now know how to get to ice cream from their community-owned
Bodkin Marina which is at the head of Back Creek! Yes, the one which I anchored within 50 feet of. I really should have gone for a run out of that park / marina and I would have found the restaurant about half a mile around the corner. I ended up spending the evening with them to help finish off a pot of an experimental crab soup which Beth had built. Bottles of wine later along with a series of sea stories and
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we were ready for a good night snugly moored while the storm blew itself out into the Bay.
Saturday morning I had a slow departure while waiting for what I hoped to be the last of the night's showers to pass through. With a hand from the Wayward Wind crew I was able to smoothly get underway. However, I was soon donning full foul weather gear as the then last shower passed over. The winds and waves were still kicking pretty well from the North West and I needed to motor-tack twice to claw my way up the two plus miles to the entrance of the Wye River. There I was soon in a pleasant lee and motored easily the rest of the way up to and around Drum Point, the next cove up the river past
Shaw Bay. There I anchored temporarily, awaiting the arrival of the rest of the Chesapeake Bay
Tartan Yacht Club vessels on their annual fall “Goose Cruise”.
Ultimately six boats arrived, two of which were Tartans, but a Saber 34 had a Tartan owner as crew, so I guess three of six was the mix. All had had Tartans at one time in their boating careers and still have a fondness for them and/or the folks who own or owned them. The winds were too strong for us to all stay together in one raft for the night, so after cocktails and a couple of boat visits we split up for the rest of the evening. I sought shelter in the lee of the north shore in the mouth of a small inlet and road comfortably through the night in spite of the 20 gusting to thirty knot winds from the Northwest through the wee hours of the morning.
With the winds predicted to go from the west to the southwest and strengthen later in the afternoon I was up early to get a jump on them. Setting a double reef in the main for motor-sailing, off I went for the mouth of the Wye River, hoping that I could get around Poplar Island and into the
Choptank before the wind shift whacked me with the old Bay chop. I had planned to cut a good deal of distance off my trip and get into the Choptank even quicker by using Knapps Narrows, a route I had not been through in all my years on the Bay. However, it was one that a young friend of mine in his Saber
34 has used often, so I figured my shoal draft Tartan could get through easily enough. I also sought relief from the west winds and waves by sailing between Tilghman Island and Poplar Island. When I fell off to go through that channel I was able to unfurl the genoa and was soon sailing along at a good five to six knot clip, even better than I had earlier hoped. I used the mostly well marked path through the Poplar Island Narrows that nonetheless was very tricky just past marker “3” and before getting to the “1” at the entrance to Knapps Narrows. There is a double shoal in that portion of the Narrows which is not marked; however, I found the chart plotter on my GPS to be extra useful in getting through the required “S” turn.
As I approached the start of the Knapps Narrows channel at “1”, however, I rolled up my
Genoa, as I did not relish being blown through the shallows there too quickly. The Knapps Narrows bridge tender answered pleasantly on VHF 13 and was able to get two of us through the lift bridge in one lift and I only needed to idle for a moment before the lift was clear. The route through is really scenic with a number of restaurants and marinas with ample water throughout. With the Choptank side channel much deeper and less nerve racking than the thin-water Bay side I may plan a trip into that harbor from the Choptank for an over-night side trip some day. Exiting through the channel away from the lift bridge, I had to remember to chant the “Red Reft Reaving” rule as the markers assume
“returning” from either side as you transit the channels towards the bridge.
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Lift Bridge at Knapps Narrows
Exiting the channel I decided to head across the Choptank toward my old anchorages on the
Tred Avon instead of turning north for the closer Dun Cove just up Harris Creek. The winds were going to be strong out of the south for the next few days so I wanted some options on anchorages to easily visit rather than be limited to those few on Harris, many of which provide excellent protection from the north but not as much from the south. I was awarded with another terrific couple of hours of beam reach sailing towards the Tred Avon River. Turning into the Tred Avon I was swarmed by returning fleets of racers in all manner of craft who were also heading back into the Oxford area. I slid behind the
Oxford-Bellevue Ferry as it made its way across the river, a journey that it or its sister ships have been repeating as frequently as hourly since 1836.
I dropped the sails once I was sure I was clear of its quick return path and then motored toward
Tar Creek, a small but delightful anchorage on the north side of the Tred Avon just across from the
Town Creek entrance to Oxford to the south. Not in your usual Cruise Books as it has a double sand bar across its entrance (left and right and they cross); however, I had cleverly marked each with my own
“red” and “green” channel positions on my GPS earlier so I slid slowly through them in seven to eight feet of water. Continuing well into the creek I anchored in five feet of water in the lee of the field and tree lined southwest shore, well protected from winds from nearly around the compass. The “channel” markings? Those were taken from my GPS after I grounded in three feet on either side both entering and, yes, exiting a few years ago. Good “solid” positions those. Looking forward to an easy night of rest particularly after last evening's escapades of musical anchorages off Drum Point.
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Last evening in Tar Creek was so peaceful. A little cool out so not much time spent in the cockpit after the sun was down but so very pleasant anyway. Nearly full moon shined through the boat's starboard portholes all night long as the winds shifted Skymark ever so lightly to follow the moon's path throughout. So quiet I was up somewhere in the middle of the night for a hot cocoa just to rattle around in the galley. The only path the winds can find into Tar Creek is from the southeast, so there was barely a ripple on the water even though the weather app showed twelve to fifteen in Oxford just two miles away.
I was up early on Monday in spite of the broken sleep earlier. I think I was “engineering” how I needed to adjust the shift clutches on the Atomic Four; forward was very snug however, reverse was slipping pretty well and would take no load at all. Reverse on most sailboats is usually not a very useful method of force but I did need to feel I could at least back out of a slip into a bit of a breeze anyway. I had reviewed the motor manual in the evening; however, there was nothing in it about the clutch adjustments. I remembered somewhat vaguely being guided in the forward ring adjustment by the everhandy Chess Harris a couple of years before, and I also remembered some discussion about having to adjust the reversing clutch once the forward mechanism had been tweaked a few times. I figured once I had the top off the tranny box it might become obvious, but was not looking forward to mucking something up in there. A sure way to make the winds go away completely.
Sure enough, once the transmission area was exposed I could readily see how we had adjusted the forward clutch and remembered I had done it by myself one more time after that. Probably why reverse was no longer happy with me. After failing to see any obvious way to adjust the reverse clutch and not wanting to make it worse, I simply backed off the forward clutch adjustment one notch. Hoping therefore to gain a little more reverse and not lose forward in the process. Popping the cover back on so
I wouldn't sling oil about the cabin, I started her up and did a simple forward / reverse action to check my work. Forward was still fine and I did have a modicum of reversing power again. Whew. I planned to move to another anchorage during the day and figured I could give forward a good check then. Now all I had to do is remember to check for new oil leaks after that short run up the Tred Avon.
Later in the morning I got underway and carefully backtracked out of Tar Creek, remembering that I had come in at high tide the afternoon before and was now leaving near low. I did get close to one of the bars and saw five feet and dropping and had a momentary panic as to which way to turn to avoid the low spot and not accidentally turn into the other side's equally bumpy spot. Even with my mock markers I was relieved when I made the correct turn to port and cleared both bars. Someday I need to drop my own “PA” markers there; however, I am sure one of the owners back in there would pull them just to keep us wandering gypsies out of their personal cove. Besides, what fun would it be to just be able to go right in after a long day underway? Right.
Heading up the Tred Avon river I aimed for the green “5” to port and, slowly turning to starboard thus placing the red “6” on my port hand, I headed approximately 150 magnetic toward the entrance into Goldsborough Creek. The Guides say to put the cove past “5” on your stern and head in, so I used that and the ever-ready plotting chart on my hand-held GPS as backup. Part way in I noticed a very helpful set of large flags ashore pretty much right on the heading needed to clear the shoals to either side of the unmarked channel. As I got closer I determined the flags were prominently displayed on a large pole in the front yard of the big house referenced in the Cruising Guides. The house is now covered by a stand of trees; however, the US, Maryland, and a large three white star on blue circle on a
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red background flags, top to bottom respectively, very nicely aided my entry. Once through the channel there is more than six feet of water depth all the way into about a mile and a half of tree and farmland lined creek.
Upstream, I returned to an old spot I had marked a year earlier and found a tree lined south bank. I tucked in behind the bank to stay out of the predicted 25 knot gusts from the south that evening.
Anchoring in 5 foot of water at about and hour after low tide I figured I would be in good shape for the overnight stay. Sure enough, as the wind piped up in the afternoon and I conveniently layered on a winter coat of teak oil in the cockpit, Skymark was gently meandered forth and back by the few breezes which made it through from the creek bank. It was almost as if the winds were basting the newly oiled teak in sunshine as we drifted there. Now if I can just not put my hand in it until tomorrow when I get underway. Guess I'll go check for oil leaks below while I am thinking of it. The forward clutch worked fine, even responding well without slipping under full power, such as it is, when I tested it underway.
And for the first time in a while it slid nicely into reverse to help set the anchor on arrival.
The geese are laughing at my work and wondering, as I am, whether the gulls will decide to drop a few on the new oiled teak before it dries. Similar to last year this spot appears to be a favorite of the birds as it is filled with many varieties swooping, honking, and splashing about. This end of the creek is surrounded on three sides by fields of grain, so most likely part of the draw. The corn in one field is about half harvested so there has to be some good pickings on the ground, even if the machinery has gotten better at leaving less behind. Nice to see. The breezes seemed to have kept the wee bugs away so far anyway, and the humidity is nice and low so my afternoon teak efforts should not be in vain, just vain. Well, off to check for oil in the all the wrong places; wasn't that a song?
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A nice spot here in Goldsborough in the middle of corn fields and geese.
I miss being able to share this with Carole; maybe talk her into joining me for a week next year here in the Oxford area. This is like Ohio and Salt Ponds stirred together. You can see forever and the temperature is in the 70's this afternoon. I can't figure out whether I want to pick corn or crabs.
After a slow wake up with the geese who were then heading off to the fields to refuel themselves, and an easy motor over to Town Creek and Oxford, I was soon at the Jack Point fuel dock replenishing fuel and water. I then headed back to my favorite spot in Oxford at Campbell's Boatyard for the day and night as I expected storms tonight and I wanted someone else's cooking for a change, I was delighted to see another Tartan 34C as I came into Town Creek. She was a good looking cruising vessel named Seven Sundays.
After securing Skymark for the day, I started my routine of laundry, run, bike to grocery, and shower, which pretty much filled the middle of the day. As I was prepping to run, Steve and Mary Ellen from the Tartan dinghied by to chat. They were off for a bike ride down to Cambridge, as they had been unable to sail there due to the winds. Having spent the past seven years restoring their Tartan in upstate
New York, they were traveling the eastern canals, rivers, and waterways enjoying their labors. He had put in a significant amount more than he ever expected to get out of her if he ever sold, but they were pleased with the results. Due to the expected thunderstorms this evening I believe we will not get a chance to swap boat stories. They plan to head north to the West River tomorrow and I south. One of us will have a good sail of it, as the winds are to be from the west; northwest would be good for me and southwest would be good for them. We expect to have some good swells from the south in either case.
After a great pork dinner and monster desert I returned to Skymark before the rains hit. It is now pretty stormy with heavy rains, predicted tidal flooding and a significant lighting storm; nice to be dockside for this evening. We will see what tomorrow brings.
What a stormy night! I had to move from the quarter-berth into the main cabin because the waves coming down Town Creek seemed intent on coming through the hull; at least it sounded that way. The rudder was also creaking as it worked against the helm lock so I was getting no peace. Finally nicely asleep, I was awoken by a text message from my Daughter about 5 minutes before my 0605 alarm engaged. She just figured I was up for travel anyway and wanted to jabber. As I hoisted my still sleepy self out of the companionway I was greeted by a nice sliver of the moon. Kind of freaky since it was full when I went to bed. It slowly came to me that I had seen something recently about an eclipse.
As I was bumbling up and down the dock to the head, the moon was slowly engulfed to where there was just a blood-red shadow remaining of its former self. It set behind the trees before I could see if it came back.
The winds had come around nicely from the south to the west and dropped a little so I was hopeful for a southward passage as I got underway from the dock. Auto assisted as I raised the mainsail with a double-reef. As expected, as I cleared the tip of land at the end of the Tred Avon, the left over waves from the south west greeted me with a vengeance, daring me to make headway out the Choptank
River. I checked the heading for the entrance to Harris Creek on the inside of Tilghman Island, which
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was my fall back if the winds stayed from the southwest or if the waves were too much to plow into all day to the Solomons. As it was I could just motor-sail on the 3000 course to Harris Creek, and having mentally planned that as a part way destination, I was happy to make at least that. My preferred course out the Choptank was closer to 270 magnetic, but that was not happening this morning.
Within a couple of hours of steady plugging I was into the lee of Tilghman and thought, what the heck, why not give the course south toward Summer Gooses a shot? I could always come about and sail easily up Harris Creek if it wouldn't work. I found that not only could I make good headway I was able to unfurl the Genoa and was soon sailing along at five to six knots, making within twenty degrees of the heading I needed. Occasionally there would be a real smasher of a wave that would come well over the bow and dinghy riding there and leave buckets of water running out the scuppers along with few choice words from me about the conditions. However, I only needed one tack to clear the point on the eastern shore at the Summer Gooses and soon was much more smoothly sailing along, about sixty degrees off the winds and waves so I was riding comfortably. As I cleared the shoal area I shook out both reefs and both I and Auto were much happier with the balanced ride toward Cove Point. The Bay was full of vessels heading south with these good winds so I was soon in good company. With the dinghy stowed on the bow for the trip, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the gentle gurgle of the stern wake as Skymark came up near hull speed; almost the sound a baby's bubbly laughter.
The wind stayed solidly out of the west for the trip, allowing a final close-hauled reach along the cliff faces between Cove Point and Drum Point. As I rounded into the Patuxent River I had to secure all sail to motor upwind toward the entrance to Solomons. I was inside the Solomons channel and motoring up Back Creek in eight hours, not a bad trip altogether, considering the extra four miles covered motor sailing off-track in the Choptank and the one tack that was perpendicular to the desired course to Summer Gooses. Only ran the engine for four of the eight hours; averaged 4 knots with engine, six under sail. Anchoring in front of our B&B for the weekend, Back Creek Inn , I cleared up the decks and re-stowed items which had come loose down below in the heavy waves in the Choptank.
One bag of cookies had gotten underway and found its way out of the locker, and across the cabin to the bunk on the other side; could say Skymark was tossing her cookies? Then I settled into the cockpit in the strong sunshine and sipped away at a freshly shaken rum punch, watching all the snow birds coming into their respective perches for the night. There are more boats underway up here in the middle of the week in the fall than in Tidewater on a summer weekend.
Funny thing happened after I moved over to a Zahniser's (410-326-2166, 4817) mooring for the day and evening. As I got ready to don my running apparel for a nice jog ashore I discovered it was bit damp. As I dug further into my workout bag the wetter things seemed to become. Thinking the solar shower bottle above the bag in the V-berth was the culprit, I moved it, only to discover water in other places on the port side; “dry” towels, my other utility bag of odds and ends, and the port side bunk cushion. Way more water than from a fairly empty bottle. A quick check with the tongue said, yak, salty water! Somehow the day before the water from a couple of the bow-stomping waves had come not only over but also under the tied-down dinghy and through the closed hatch cover to migrate into the berthing area. Since the wind scoop, which had also been in the port shelf, was damp, I popped the forward hatch, inserted the scoop, to both dry it out and send a blast of dry air through the whole area forward. And, even though I had just finished my laundry for the week while at Campbell's Boatyard, I tossed another load of soggy stuff into the dink to take ashore and wash up while I was on my run.
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The day was gorgeous, with full sun and temperatures in the high 70's, a nice day for a good set of wind sprints. By mid-afternoon, I had finished my much needed run, washed and dried the assortment of clothes and towels, showered and shaved, and had an ice cream. I managed to get everything back aboard dry, and after a quick lunch was ready for a nice afternoon of reading in the cockpit. As dusk approached, I secured the wind scoop and buttoned up the boat for an evening on the beach. Rowing ashore, I planned to pick up a cheeseburger in paradise, find a pub to watch Thursday night football, and listen to some good local entertainment. Fisherman's Restaurant had all of the above; including a good sounding musician who could be heard above the general hubbub but was quiet enough folks could carry on easy conversations. The Colts had decimated their poor opponents by the end of the first quarter and before they could roll up the pub around me I was rowing myself back to my boat in the moonlight, ready for another night's rest on a secure mooring.
Up early in the morning, I perked up a fresh thermos of coffee and then motored over to a dock at Zahniser's Boat Yard (410-326-2166, 4817) so the mechanic could more easily get aboard the boat for a much needed tune up of the ol' Atomic Four. After securing Skymark for the process, I walked down the street to Back Creek Inn for a homemade breakfast of french toast, fresh fruits, and banananut bread. Carole and I were not checking in until the afternoon but I had already made reservations for breakfast there, the usual habit of mine each year. Following a leisurely meal plus a couple of extra slices of nut bread for good measure, I strolled back to Z's to check on the mechanic’s progress. Much to my delight they were filling out the invoice for the already completed repairs to the tune of $75. I motored out the channel past G “5” to the berth at the front of Back Creek Inn.
I had the boat secured for the weekend by noon, leaving plenty of time in the afternoon to clean and oil-polish the teak cabin sole, a now annual ritual while here at Back Creek for the holiday. I am hoping for a nice Sunday so Carole and I have a chance to motor around the Solomon Island anchorages which we try to do each year. Now for some coffee on the patio as I wait for Carole to arrive from her trip up from Virginia Beach, our second rendezvous of this trip!
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Slightly drizzly view of Back Creek entrance from Back Creek Inn Pier
Saturday, as predicted, dawned a cool and drizzly day which never much improved. We had sampled some of the brews at the Ruddy Duck Brewery the evening before so we had a gradual start to the day. After a slow morning of eggs Benedict, we did make it to the Calvert Cliffs Marine
Museum grounds to pick up a light lunch and to purchase a few items for our remodeled spaces at home. We spent some time reviewing the new sections of the museum and then walked through our old favorite depictions of the Mesozoic age in the Bay. Battles between whales and mega-tooth sharks, oh boy! Then it was back to the B&B for some recovery time from the walking and cool and damp weather. Dinner was at the ever satisfying Dry Dock Restaurant at Zahniser's Yacht Center.
A little pricey so we limit our visits there to just once a year; however, the meals are always really worth it.
Sunday dawned clear and comfortable, with Fall having returned in all its glory. The Back
Creek breakfast buffet of crab quiche, eggs and ham quiche, sticky buns, fresh-cut fruits, biscuits and handmade jams, with the ever plentiful coffee and juices, took much of the morning to work through.
By noon, however, we were aboard Skymark for a sunny afternoon of cruising around all the anchorages in Mill Creek and Back Creek. Much of the land is a comfortable 15 to 20 foot elevation above creek level; however, the climbs up the numerous stair landings to get home from the water's edge did not appear to be very inviting. Many of the anchorages would serve well as storm or hurricane havens if required. I was eying a few of them based on recent heavy weather predictions for the Bay
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on Tuesday evening through Wednesday afternoon. I still hoped to start working my way further south on Monday, however. After tying up again at the pier we stayed aboard for an afternoon of wine and cheeses and fresh baked bread and crackers, listening to the lapping of the waves on the hull and to the church kids in the school yard next door squealing their enjoyment of one more lovely day outside at play. While Carole napped down below I readied Skymark for her sail down the Bay on the morrow's tide. Another fine day in paradise.
Up at dawn to finish prepping for the next leg south. The weather was not particularly inviting as, while it was predicted to be mostly cloudy through the day, a heavy rain rolled in as I was singling up the mooring lines. That and the winds being somewhat out of the south already and not just pure easterly made me want to just surrender the day and stay in port. So I mulled over my choices as I had a nice breakfast with Carole and helped her get packed up for her drive south that day. I had laid out two choices for my day's destination, one on the eastern shore and one on the western shore, Crisfield and Reedville respectively. I bent on the single reef to the main before raising it as I expected to be motoring much of the day but still wanted a steadying sail up. Waving goodbye to Carole, I was finally off for the mouth of the Patuxent, still planning to just turn around as I got to the Bay, expecting the waves to be too much to punch through all day.
However, as I motor-sailed around the remnants of the Cedar Point Lighthouse, I found the waves and winds to be staying pretty well out of the east and soon I was rolling somewhat easily down the Bay. I found however, that I would not be making Crisfield, as much of the weather was from that direction. I kept the information for the Kedges Straits (into the top of Tangier Sound) ready in my GPS in case the winds turned to the south and I needed to motor-tack to port across the Bay. The winds stayed relative quiet and I was able to make it to Point Lookout at the opening of the Potomac with no further diversions however. Crossing the Potomac, which always seems to have its own weather systems, proved to be even better than expected. The wind strengthened from the east significantly a little after noon and I was able to spend an enjoyable couple of hours sailing under a full genoa and reefed main, engine off. And the sun came out for the rest of the day; so much for partly cloudy. I handily made Smith Point as the tide changed and the breeze died completely, so it was back to the iron genoa for the final hour and a half into the Great Wicomico River.
Rounding the spider lighthouse at the mouth of the river, so named because of its appearance of a giant spider resting on the water, I rolled up the genoa and made ready to tie up at Carole's friends' house about a mile upriver. As I approached the tip of Reedville I lowered the mainsail and then headed into their so-welcoming dock.
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Buzzards Point, home & dock
Both were home this time, and with some handy aid from Ray, Skymark was soon comfortably moored with shore power plugged in, and shortly thereafter I had a glass of wine in my hand. The local Crabby
Shack, just across the inlet, was closed during the week, but I offered to buy them a meal one evening if they would provide the transportation. I also still owe them a day sail in Skymark from previous visits when they had been too busy to get aboard.
Despite the dire predictions of clouds, Tuesday dawned clear and stayed sunny and very warm throughout. I did get in a short set of sprints in the morning before having a good run-around-the-rainlocker in my hosts' guest room. As a weak payback I took Linda out to lunch; well, she drove and I paid. A really good little spot just up the road, but not within walking distance. I may yet need to get a used bike to get around while out and about on Skymark. On the other hand, nearly all marinas have bikes available, so it may not be worth the bother after all.
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Buzzards Point Dock
Winds are up today, but I am well protected in here with a line out to a windward piling and an ample fender board between Skymark and the dock. A nice chop has build up from the 20 knot winds but I thoughtfully had swung around to put the bow into the sou’east as I moored. The local evening radio news has even been running reduce-power-usage requests because of the unseasonably warm weather; may get to 80 today yet! Another nice Fall day!
Wednesday the winds continued to build as a line of storms slowly made their way to the seaboard. Numerous tornadoes were spawned from Louisiana east as the system spiraled our way. It stayed warm and humid into the late afternoon and I was comfortably stretched out on a lounge chair on a screened in porch overlooking Buzzards Point. Numerous birds were out and about in spite of the winds and a flock of a dozen or so of the point's namesakes had joined a hawk or two in riding the thermals along the creek's edge. I had already cleaned up Skymark from the earlier trip and now was just waiting for the winds to shift and blow us home. I worked on the trip journal and read a couple of books and watched as the storm line came through. The rain came in a deluge and seemed to smash all of the winds into submission. The inlet was left in relative calm with only a few ripples to show for two days of stormy weather. I was still happy to be setting safe in port. I waited until my hostess had returned from the beach and then headed down to my boat for an evening pot of soup and a nice gentle rock to sleep.
Taking a chance that the winds really would come and stay out of the southeast and not bend to
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the south I headed out into the Bay from my snug mooring in Cockreel Creek. The trip out and around
Windmill Point was about twenty miles and would put me within a day's sail of Norfolk, if I could get that far today. Surprisingly, about an hour into the trip I was able to unroll the Genoa and get a few hours of sailing in, and while not quite on the lay line to Jackson Creek, we were able to make very good headway into the chop that had built up through the morning. When I tacked off the Eastern Shore at Occohannook Rock, I also wisely decided to motor-sail the final leg into the Piankatank, as the wind shifted and the chop continued to build from the sou'west. The only casualty I incurred was the wind bird decided it had enough rocking and pitching at the top of the mast and it jumped off, swinging too and fro, tethered by its power cord to the mast head. The tail came off on one of the wild swings and nearly beaned me before it hit the deck.
I arrived at Jackson Creek and entered just in time to catch the last slot open on the fuel pier at
Deltaville Marina and was able to top off my fuel tank for the last leg of my trip south. Apparently there was a trawler convention there for the weekend and they were tying vessels everywhere possible;
I would hate to be a late arriving cruiser and be told the fuel dock was to be closed through the weekend. Fuel was 30 cents more per gallon and ice was twice as expensive as further up the bay.
Strange. It is a nice marina and has a well-equipped yard attached where you can find a number of southbound vessels getting their final adjustments before jumping out at Norfolk. The marina has bicycles for transport to the local groceries and stores and also has a vehicle available short-term for those bigger provisionings. Once I was fueled, I proceeded back to my favorite anchorage deep in the inlet, right off some friends' dock.
Taking the opportunity of a super-clean waterway, I dove on the boat to check the prop for fouling, as I was not getting the speed out of the tune-up that I had sort of expected. Prop was sparkly clean; it was the boat bottom that was munged up. I cleaned the water line and the rudder; however, I left the rest of the work for my diver when I am back in Norfolk. After a very welcome warm shower in the cockpit I tossed on some dry clothes and rowed ashore to our friends' dinghy dock. Just up the street is the local Taylor's restaurant, which is well known for its excellent seafood selections and other country style cooked meals. The blackberry cobbler was particularly tasty. I noted how dark it had gotten by the time I was headed back to the boat; usually I visit here on my way north in September when there is a bit more daylight left after a trip on the Bay.
I am still undecided about whether to try to get further south tomorrow or just enjoy this place for a day. I need to see what the weather-guessers are predicting for the next few days.
With winds still out of the sou'west I decided to stay and play in Deltaville. After a quiet breakfast aboard I packed up the dinghy for a day ashore; running gear, shower paraphernalia, and change of clothes. I had a nice easy run around the roads between Deltaville Marina on the south and
Norton Yachts to the north, visiting the newly renovated Deltaville Wooden boat Museum in the middle. Oh, and a stop at the Cafe by the Bay shop for an iced coffee half way through my run. After a clean up in a real shower at the Marina, I hopped on one of their bikes for a ride back into town and a tasty sandwich at the same Cafe. They were doing a good business even in the off season as I saw not only a number of visitors but numerous workers from the Deltaville Boat Yard come through to pick up bags of sandwiches for the crews there. By the way, the charge for all the good stuff at the Marina is
$11 a day for bikes, showers, laundry, gas grills in a screened in porch, lovely lounge with wide-screen
TV open 24/7, and the use of a car for one hour for those larger hunting trips in the neighboring stores.
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And I figured out why the fuel price was a bit higher, it's pure gasoline, no corn syrup additives.
I spent the rest of the afternoon on the shaded porch catching up on my internet activities and smoothing out some of my journal notes. After a meal aboard, I returned for a dose of the evening news hour and found I had not missed much of anything in the past week away. The weather continued warm and clear with the wind holding to the south, confirming my decision to wait for more favorable winds on the morrow; westerlies I hope!
Early morning underway, Jackson Creek
A very nice day of sailing in awesome winds. With them predicted to be out of the west today I headed out of Jackson Creek at first light followed by a string of other southbound cruisers. With the winds still light but building I motor-sailed with a reefed main for about an hour and a half until I was just past the Bay side entrance to the “hole in the wall” into Gwyn Island. As I secured the engine and adjusted the Genoa I was soon making the same speed over ground as I had been with the engine, 6.3 to
6.5. The wind continued to build past Wolf Snare and by the time I got into the clear air past New Point
Comfort I needed to reef the Genoa down to jib size. The rudder was much more balanced and the boat's heal went from 35 to a more comfortable 25 degrees and the speed came up to 6.8 to 7.3 kts.
There was an almost continuous mist of salt spray over the whole boat from the bow cutting through the waves. With the sun out full, there were numerous little halos dancing in the spray.
Almost too soon I was past my waypoint off Back River and rolling the jib in the rest of the way to motor-sail to Salt Ponds. I made 33 NM in five hours today, with some help from the out-going tide but mostly due to the 20 to 30 kt westerly winds about forty-five degrees off the bow. For the hour I
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was crossing part of the York and Mobjack Bay the waves were pretty decent, but off the bow enough so I was not slowed down appreciably.
After I secured Skymark at the Salt Ponds docks I rolled out one of the neighbor's hoses and gave the boat a good wash down to get most of the salts clear before it dried in place. I also hoisted the dinghy and gave it a good scrub and then left it to hang from the spin topping lift while I had lunch and finished the last beer from my ice chest. Close that. Luckily I had plenty of rum left for the evening. As
I was rolling up the dried out dinghy I found there was to be a farewell party at the Marina pool for one of the BBSA racing couples. Dave and Nikki were due to launch on Sunday in their sailboat for places way to the south.
Luckily I had excused myself early from the party the night before. So I was up with the dawning and had quickly stowed my gear in their assorted bags, ready to be hefted off on arrival at
Norfolk. The winds were way up as predicted but with some help clearing the dock and a quick pump out of the holding tank I was soon motor-sailing down Buckroe Beach with just a bit of the Genoa unfurled to make 6 kts. In spite of the full sunlight, the winds from the NW were brisk and I was happy
I had bundled up with an extra layer for the short hop to the Naval Base. I managed to get across the
HRBT and into Willoughby Bay without splashing sea water all over the boat, a mission not often accomplished the last morning out. I was watching for the sometimes bothersome security boats as I crossed Willoughby Bay, but they seemed to have worn themselves out the day before and were safe in harbor. After rolling the Genoa up I soon slid into my old slip at the Naval Sailing Center, home safe but not really quite ready to step back into society. Carole was soon there, however, and I had to offload my gear and say goodbye to my “room without a roof” for the past month.
Skymark had travelled 455 NM in the 34 days we had been away. The only casualty we had sustained which was not yet repaired was the poor windbird still dangling from the mast head; waiting to be plucked from its electric tether at the next opportunity for a trip up there.
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