The Mid - Atlantic... part 1

Thought I forgot about you??  Maybe I abandoned the project, eh??  Nope!  Im back baby, back and determined to finish!  With all the hoopla of getting married this summer (thanks, it was a blast!) I had to table a lot more than I would like to admit, and this certainly didn't make the cut.  But, without further ado, here is yet another installment of my trip up the coast.

For those just joining us, we left off after a fantastic trip to the outer banks; with plenty of fish, good friends, and great memories.  Now, as we have done in the past, its time to move on, and march northwards...

The Mid-Atlantic, part 1

Schedules are a blessing and a curse.  Sure, they can serve to organize our life, and keep us in check, but sometimes they put us in positions we don’t want to be in.  Either way, we have to deal with them.

Since buying the boat in January, we have had a rough schedule of moving the boat home to New England, and two deadlines to meet.  First, we needed to have the boat out of Florida waters within 90 days, as per their tax policy.  We met that by 1 day, pulling into Charleston, Sc 89 days after our purchase date.  The second, was that we had to have the boat home in time for the Snug Harbor Shark tournament, which falls on the second week of July every year.  As I wrote in an earlier post, this is one of those ritual events that we don’t miss.  With home and summer fun on our mind, we headed back down to Hatteras Island, Pt. Judith being our final destination; and stops on the way of Virginia Beach, Atlantic City, and Manhattan.

Arriving in Norfolk, VA (the closest commercial airport) we hopped into the Island Hopper van, and made the 3 hour drive south to Hatteras all the while conversing with a very interesting woman named Ruth, our driver for the night.  Ruth, a transplant to Hatteras, had grown up as an Army brat, but every summer the family was together, for varying lengths of time, in Hatteras.  She has a bit to say about most anything, and it made for a pleasant ride.  Getting to Hatteras landing around 1:00 am, we dropped our gear where it lay, and hit the sack.

The next morning, spurred on by our previous fishing bonanza, we headed out of the inlet in search of some fish before heading north to Virginia beach, and its somewhat protected Rudee Inlet. While we didn't have the lights out luck that we had last trip, we managed a few mahi, enough to make a few meals out of.  We turned north, and began the run up to VA beach, with little fanfare.  As we headed north, we could feel the change in the weather coming.  A front began to bear down on us, carrying reports of waterspouts and lightening along with it.  As it was a coastal storm, we pushed a little further offshore, and were able to hook around the sinister looking weather; leaving it on our port side.

Inlets are something that I have come to appreciate, and well maintained ones doubly so.  The wide, deep channels I have navigated in New England are more rare as you head south; jetties and man made canals being replaced with shifting sandbars and narrow, tricky passes.  Rudee inlet was at least a man made inlet, and one that is fairly easy to navigate.  They also employ a full time dredging ship, who's job it is to remove the constant barrage of sand from the inlet, maintaining the 10 ft. depth.  We barely made it under the fixed bridge that lies between the inlet and Fisherman’s Wharf, however, and once again our outrigger lost a little paint to a bridge.

After cleaning the boat, and enjoying our fresh fish for dinner, we had a nice conversation with a guest, there to visit our friend Alan who was along for the trip.  I busied myself changing some fuel filters after that, as we hadn't changed them recently, and, on the whole, it was a pleasant, warm evening.  With a good forecast laid out before us, I didn't have much of a care in the world.  

How things change.  The previous evenings forecast of 2-3 foot seas and 10 knot winds was updated in the early morning, to reflect a front that pushed through quicker than anticipated.  5-7 foot seas and winds 15-20 were the order of the day.  It was miserable. Any direction I headed in resulted in a head sea, something the Post is not famous for making a pleasant situation.  Pounding, huge spray, and the constant up and down of the waves made for a most uncomfortable morning. 

After several hours of “Bang, Smack, Hold on…” I was second guessing myself on the filter change I had done the night before.  when my brother headed downstairs for some relief from the beating we were taking ( and doing only 15kts. to make matters worse ) I asked him to check the engine room to be sure no fuel was escaping the filter and onto the floor.  Good news, no fuel.  Bad news, a foot of water was in the engine room.  A quick position check put us about 10 miles East of Chincoteague Island.  Hmmm. Water in the boat, 10 miles from shore… what to do.  

First thing; Rich hopped into the engine room and started hand bailing while Alan ran the manual bilge pump.  Slowing down to idle speed and keeping our nose into the seas, we were able to empty the bilge and engine room in about 5-10 minutes.  But where did the water come from?  I thought maybe the engine room vents in the hull; after all, we were taking big waves all day.  Rich thought maybe the bait well was overflowing and filling the area. We carried on and checked again in 5 minutes.  No change.  Good.  20 minutes of cruising, and water was coming back in. Bad.  This time I called the Coast Guard.  Now, calling the Coast Guard is never my first thought.  Personally, I don't like to bother them unless I really, really, need to.  Because this isn't really a “Mayday”, I called a “Pan Pan” which means the safety of my vessel is in danger. I advised them of our situation, and we were in contact for about 30 minutes or so.  They actually were standing by to send out pumps to us to help us dewater the boat.  After taking stock of what was happening, we got a handle on where the water was coming from, and, using our bait well pump, we were making headway on keeping the water down.  After that, we advised the CG of our progress, and they advised us to get to Ocean City, where the facilities were available to get us out of the water and repaired (or at least diagnosed).  Done deal!

Thankfully, the seas calmed shortly afterwards, and with good headway, speed, and some phone calls and researching; we headed in to the Canyon Club Marina in Cape May, NJ.  Although north of Ocean City, they had the facilities in place and the willingness to meet us at 7:00 on a Friday night to figure out what was going on.  An easy inlet, good channel, and calm tide greeted us in Cape May; as did the service manager of the Canyon Club, who was waiting with the travel lift in the water.  Travel lifts are giant boat hammocks that can lift and transport large boats out of the water and around the marina yard as needed.  Once we were “sitting in the sling”, Dave hopped onto our boat and headed right down into the engine room after a quick hello.  “Ah-ha, yep…” he said.  “I got it…” Really, that quick? And in fact, it was that quick.  We split an exhaust hose that handled the sea water the engine cools with, and the hose was spraying water all over the place. At low speeds, it moved less water, at high speeds, it was a torrent of water coming into the engine room.  All because of a $25 hose…  Whatever.  It's fixed and the ordeal is over! Time to ogle some sick yachts!

Relieved, we were put back together, and sitting comfortably at what turned out to be one of the nicest marinas I had ever stayed in.  The Canyon Club is a must visit marina.  Beautiful facilities, beautiful boats, and Cape May is really quite nice.  The pools, grounds and docks at The Canyon Club are all meticulously maintained, and I could see myself spending lots of time lounging at the pool, If we weren't on a schedule.  I can't say enough good things about the Canyon Club.  You owe it to yourself to head on over there and experience what a first class operation is like.  Or maybe don't... I feel quite let down now with my marina.  Sigh.

As the sun set, we all sat in the cockpit, eating dinner, and rehashing the days events; now laughing at our actions, and joking about the tension we had all been under.  We learned a great deal that day; about our boat, about large seas, and how we act under pressure.  Overall, I think we managed pretty well.

Next up, part 2! Motoring into the Big Apple.