North Carolina / Georgia Loop

[available: full size presentation]

This 475 nm cruise was a mix of coastal offshore and the AICW. Each have challenges. They both offer scenic splendor with a bit of adventuring

Typically, the inside passage is a pleasant ride with smooth water and most would choose it for comfort. It is much slower because of its twists and turns. Due to lack of maneuvering space it can’t reliably be sailed and must be motored. In fact, the ICW is very narrow in most cases and a rigid course line must be strictly followed to avoid getting stuck in the mud (run aground). Further, it is generally unwise to traverse the ICW during darkness for it is difficult to spot hazards to navigation. With a bit of planning there are many option locations for stopping to rest and at days end.  I find the venue a nice change of pace and even though helmsmanship is very high workload it is likely that one will have a genuine restful night at anchor — just be mindful of the mosquitoes.

Coastal offshore is very different and you must have a stomach for it as there is constant motion depending on the sea state.  Aside from the continual action attributable to wave and swell, it can be somewhat relaxing and less stressful, your body does adapt to this environment. Glorious sailing is possible and one is able to minimize the use of noisy auxiliary diesel power. Talmid, with a displacement hull / full keel, is happiest in the deep blue and with shallows and bridge crossings not being a factor. With an adequate watch routine you needn’t make layovers and can track nonstop. If wind permits, follow a rhumbline course and the miles click by. The autopilot steers your course freeing the mind to keep tabs on the big picture and contemplate life.

A July afternoon on anchor was a near experience in heat stress. Keep in mind that A/C is a shore powered luxury only available at the marina; on the water you take what you get. This outdoors lifestyle can be pleasant, even on hot days, if there is a breeze across the water but during this exposure wind was calm.  [Cod Harbor Tangier Island.]
…and from the picture evidence observe the lone crab pot in a sea that is flat glass. The opaque sky seems to merge horizonless into haze and humidity. You can take a dip in the sea but with a water temp of 91 indicated it is not refreshing. The sun is high and shade areas on deck shrink The only escape is inside the cabin below.

This is the representative cabin temperature log. Strip down and perspire. Try to hydrate. The water from onboard tankage is room temp. Hopefully there are some ice cubes left in the refrigerator box.

This was two days later on the Potomac. Same temperatures but with wind relief. Very nice. Even looks cooler doesn’t it?

The bane of intracoastal cruisers these seasonal traps are everywhere. They are at times waywardly placed in the middle of navigable routes, which is where we connected with one or should I say connected to us. It was broad daylight (and you can imagine the extra challenge at nighttime) and was unseen but suspect when we heard and sensed a thump. A crap pot consists of sunken coup resting on the seabed, a stout retrieval line is floated to the surface by a marker buoy. Boaters must scan for these little floats but they are easily obscured by wavelets and glare. The float marker, styrofoam and plastic, can be harmlessly nudged aside by the hull but it’s the attached rope that is drawn to your spinning propeller that is the spoiler.

After the unexpected bump scan checked engine RPM and detected no changes in sounds or frequency but did note a loss in speed of about 1 knot. Aside from the thump this was the only clue. The only way to know for certain was to inspect the prop.

The prop is about 2′ below the surface and the only way to view is to stop and go over the side with mask and flippers; an unscheduled swim.

Most of these pesky hazards are in coves and harbors, anchorages are littered although in fairness they are distributed in linear string fashion every x number of feet. When you are anchoring they can be intimidating and always a challenge to stay clear to avoid mixing. If you happen to tangle, your prop is likely to be jammed into a non-functioning balled up mess. A saw tooth hand knife is necessary to laboriously cut the cord away. An enterprising idea is to install a set of propshaft blades that act to preemptively slice and dice.
I’m not convinced that this would actually work effectively at slow maneuvering RPMs in an anchorage or when using reverse.

During my impromptu inspection I discovered we had indeed been fouled and had been dragging an entire bundle of float, line, and trap for a mile. Our prop-wash had slammed the float through the propeller aperture snagging on the rudder without the line wrapping up in the prop. Phew! Lucky easy removal for us — but not for the Waterman. He will be wondering where his Crab Pot and Catch are…

There was an obscure note on the chart that we overlooked. It needs bells and whistles because it caused some chagrin. Transiting local shoreline routes are challenging due to shallower water and obstructions. Our Washington DC back to NC trip just completed was roughly 450 miles of mostly Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) so I guess we were fortunate that we escaped [most of] the unseen. The ICW is supposed to be maintained to a nominal depth of at least 12′ at low tide. Talmid requires 6′.  Satellite view of the Masonboro Sound on the New River – Cape Fear River
…and the NOAA chart presentation  – same locale

The dashed lines indicate the charted bounds of the ICW. Here is a closeup of the chart and observe the notice that we found pertinent which reads Shl to 5 ft 2016.

Translated: Shoal to 5 feet and dated last year. Ordinarily this would not be a problem area at high tide and I’d been through here twice before but at low water our deep keel found it — and we slid to an abrupt halt.

Worth mentioning is that the inland water is murky dark. Your eye can’t tell if it’s 2′ or 20′. There is a depth transducer onboard which gives us a digital indication of actual depth. We have a aural warning alert set to 10′ to get our attention should depth become a concern. In this instance it did give alert but the depth readout quickly went to 8′ and then just as fast I saw 4.6′ with no time to react. Stuck.

Pure sand bottom, so damage only to my ego. We were able to use reverse propeller at max RPM to extricate and not have to wait for the water to rise. After the fact, and back at my desk, I downloaded this Hydrographic Survey from the Army Corp of Engineers and one can clearly see the issue. The image below is the satellite view with the survey overlay.…and the relevant closeup section (just North of green lateral daymark #135)

Blue is 15+ deep water. Red = bad; and must be avoided. Ordinarily you keep the boat between the channel markers and you should be okay.  From the comfort of my armchair I can see that the preferred and ONLY route through favors the one side.

A published guide book might prove useful as no doubt there have been many gone before that made the goof. I can now say that I have first hand [local] knowledge.

North Carolina / Washington, DC Loop

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I’m no longer in my comfort zone. I won’t say that I was uncomfortable, but rather exhilarated, enlivened. Wind speed steadily had freshened to an average 30 knots. There were gusts. In fact having been hand steering in them since breakfast time, I got so that I could anticipate those gusts and the wave sequences too. They came in cycles. During the lull when the wind seemed to moderate, the feeling became one of relative calm. But that wind always returned and blew with certainty.

This storm wasn’t part of the picture in Marsh Harbor Sunday, 17 January when I sailed for home.  An upper atmospheric disturbance came ashore over the Pacific Northwest the trough strengthening as it moved southeastward and on the 21st a weak low-pressure over central Texas had spawned. The next day a new low-pressure area began to develop over the coast of the Carolinas as the former storm tracked North and East to become a 2016 named Winter Blizzard Storm — Jonas. The worst aspects of the manifestation was from Hatteras, NC and way North along the Mid-Atlantic all well documented by CNN breaking news for those tuned in. This main assault: missed it by that much.

The biggest eye-opener for me was the confirmation that you can’t fight mother nature. Which is to say, that it is easier to go with the flow! It would have been impossible to sail to windward. The boat just wouldn’t have gone. She would have just layed down and taken a beating. With daylong wind from the South and anticipating the westerly wind shift, it was my advance desire to make my way slightly North-Westward and avoid close hauled sailing later on.  Good idea which I tried, but was poor to execute. Running with the wind was happiness. Maneuvering left or right was a tight confine. The one direction killed boatspeed bringing waves and wind to bear and the other was certainty of a crash jybe. Just ride with it and experience the spectacle. The wave swells were high enough that it seemed like the boat (mast and all) disappeared in the bottom of the troughs. When riding back up the crest you were on top of the world. Those wave crests looked like they wanted to fall over and break like surf but they never did. They boiled up and collapsed upon themselves. The froth was whipped and picked up by wind to become driven spray. The best view was aft. Large waves form a train as they roll toward, under, and past the bow. But it was hard to turn ’round and watch in slow motion. Brief side glances were possible, into the stinging windborne drops.

There was very little rain and the clouds were not ominous or threatening. The reader absorbing this over short span of time raises feelings of fear but the main brunt stretched for 6 hours; plenty of time for this sailor to accept, settle in, and cope for the duration.

By dusk, the gale had abated. The angry seas diminished after frontal passage and the winds would soon shift to a western flow. Hungry for some supper and needing rest I hove to and went below.

Typical view at days end… however to be transparent: This was my sunset on 21 January — the night before the blow. Red Sky at Night; Sailors’ Delight. Right??

I’d quipped during verbal narratives on my travels that Talmid’s self steering control affectionately nicknamed Otto Pirate,  was indispensable and that it would be hard luck as a solo sailor to be without it. Well, that happened.

As it turned out it wasn’t my worst nightmare after all. Never having actually hand steered this boat while sailing before, the autohelm is used most [all] of the time, it wasn’t too bad.

The actual 7/16″ SS Pin  — that crystallized and snapped in two and disabled Otto.

Pin fastens the Raymarine M81132 type 2 (long) linear drive rod end to the tiller arm. There can be some tremendous forces exerted. The image depicts a [intact] typical setup. I never would have suspected the beggar would fail.  I will order a spare and while at it, preemptively replace the other adjustment bolts that hold cable tension.

So, there were long hours behind the wheel but Talmid tracks straight and true. I got into the swing of it and found it enjoyable. There were many mile to go however and when you have eating or sleep needs for instance the only way is to heave to. I had to do this a lot; although I had some very long stints at the helm.

I cut a piece of twisted nylon rope and fashioned a short line knotted at both ends to serve as replacement for the pin which worked until my knots failed or the rope chafed through. I re-did and decided that I was asking too much. I reserved usage for calm and smooth sea such as when motoring.  Unfortunately, the only such conditions occurred during the last 12 hours of the voyage but still I was grateful to have Otto.

• Keep the water out of the boat
• Keep the people in the boat
• Keep the boat moving

These are basic adages, useful for staying out of trouble, but modern boaters desire many of the comforts that technologies offer. A boat’s electrical system and its management is integral. Consider what items might become unavailable without it. I have a list in my head because one learns to play “what if” scenarios and plan for contingencies and prepare backups.

Without electricity, for example, you lose the ability to heat/cook food. This is because the CNG fueled galley stove has an electric solenoid valve at the supply tank that is safety mandated to help prevent accidental gas leakage from becoming deadly. This valve is powered to the open position which means that without — it’s shut. Cooking fuel not accessible.

The boat does have storage batteries and these are isolated so that if one goes the other is backup. The engine, when running, has a generator.  So, imagine my shock (no pun intended) when all went dark. Not literally; it happened to be the middle of the afternoon. But it also happened to be the middle of the big wide open ocean miles and miles from land. There was a thump noise and my first observation was that the steering autopilot was offline. Further investigation revealed that the navigation chart plotter and associated electronic aids were down. Going below I discovered that lights, radios, pumps all via the panel could not be switched on. The diesel auxiliary could not be started. There was no power whatsoever. Total loss!

I began a futile search for some sort of Main Circuit Breaker… knowing that there wasn’t one. I opened the master electrical panel to see what I could see. I felt like the driver disabled roadside opening the hood of his car looking in thinking he’d see something obviously wrong but only staring into unknown complexity. I crawled over the diesel into a small space under cockpit deck to go hands on with the batteries. Nothing obvious there either until I stumbled upon the culprit.

Checking security of the battery cable connections I found one awry. Not apparent by eye, a cable was loose and the problem obscured by black electricians tape. This wiring, a crucial common ground, had separated from its terminal lug. The original solder joint had failed. The black tape held the cable near but the detachment prevented the circuit. I removed the tape and with Leatherman stripped insulation to reveal more  copper. This bare wire was inserted at terminal junction under the other lugs and the whole shebang secured. This was a bandaid fix but I was back in business and on my way in short order. Upon arrival at my island destination I endeavored to replace the offending terminal lug. I didn’t trust the bandaid to get me back to home port. After learning at the auto parts supply that these items were available only on prefabricated [short] cables I visited a hardware store and found a grounding cable clamp that gave me the idea for a MAcGyver fix. I stripped insulation from another cable and siamesed the two so as to share a good terminal lug. This was still ugly but secure. Happily restored, the electrical system held together on return voyage and meals were served hot — and the electronics worked, lights, and toilet. Yep. It’s electric too!