Aweigh!

 

 

Wilbur's opinion of my blogging abilities.

 

Eight days after departing Stuart, Florida we've moved about 180 miles. 800 more to go.

I just got online to publish the blog post I labored over for days, and discovered it's gone. My draft disappeared.

Actually, it was not about this trip, but was about our last day on the ICW from two years ago. The only reason I didn't write about it then was because it was just an awful day.

So in short (and remember this was all in one day):

While underway I had to jump from our boat into the dinghy and bail it out as we forgot to loosen the painter and it filled with water.

In a very narrow part of the ICW a trawler in front of us came to an abrupt stop and proceeded to reverse. They very nearly hit our port rear quarter as Hans managed to motor out of their way.

In the same narrow waters a huge yacht in front of us stopped and began backing up just before going under a draw bridge. When I hailed him on the radio asking if there was a problem, he screamed at me and said he had to let oncoming traffic through first. The oncoming traffic turned out to be a small dinghy sized fishing boat that in no way needed us to stop.

A family of five, who in their kayaks, had been sitting idlely along the channel decided they needed to cross in front of us to the other side RIGHT NOW! Hans throttled back on the engines as they madly paddled and I'm pretty sure they spend their spare time running across highways in front of semis.

And finally there was the idiot who didn't understand that he needed to stay on his own side while passing under a draw bridge and ran us into the fenders. We were horrified to see him coming straight at us and even with me standing on the foredeck waving at him to move over, he just kept coming. The bridge tender called on the radio to him and told him he needed seamanship lessons. I tried to call him on the radio about the damage to our boat and he wouldn't answer.

We've got seen way too many of these along the shorelines.

So before heading north this time I was remembering that last awful day and I'm hoping this trip will be a little less exciting.

 

Do you think I'll be safe down here?

 

Posted with Blogsy

Cobb Island

Because of its location in the Potomac, and the fact that it had a very nice market within dinghy and walking distance, Cobb Island, Maryland became a bit of a home away from home for us this summer, and we ended up anchoring there on three separate occasions.

The first time we showed up and anchored, I felt a bit like the main attraction at a freak show. For such a small town there was a surprising amount of traffic in the channel, and each and every boat slowed down to a crawl while the occupants stared at us with open mouths. After I checked to make sure I was adequately clothed (it was so hot, there were days when we wore next to nothing), we just didn't get it. The staring continued during our next two visits but by then we were used to it.

We finally decided it was because we were the only sailboat that ever anchored there. Everyone else had stink pots (very loud motor boats), tattoos, and cigarettes hanging out of the sides of their mouths (even in their cockpits where the smell of gasoline hung very heavy in the air), and if they didn't have slips, they tied up long enough to enjoy a visit at the Drift Away Bar and Grill (we ate lunch there one day and they have really great food) before motoring on.




During our second and third anchorages, a trawler (its name won't be disclosed here!) anchored beside us and even though to my absolute horror the captain and his mate spent quite a bit of their time sitting around 'in the buff' (I know this for a fact because I have binoculars you know!) they still didn't get the attention Hans and I did.
And believe me it wasn't a pretty sight!

But imagine how the stares increased when we finally broke out the red neck awning (purchased at WalMart a couple of years ago)! What took us so long to use it is beyond me but for the rest of the trip that awning was strung up on a regular basis and literally saved us from being fried like eggs on a sidewalk.







Life on Cobb Island is slow and we spent our days reading, drinking beer, staring at people staring at us, and watching Billie Joe McAllister jump off the Tallahatchie Bridge.
"That's not the Tallahatchie Bridge." Hans informed me (in his sensible voice) after I excitedly informed him of what I'd witnessed.

I told him to look for himself just as a couple of additional bodies hurtled over the railing and into the water.

Apparently during sizzling hot summers, a favorite past time for Cobb Island youths is to jump off the bridge. If I weren't such a coward at heart and not afraid of heights, jelly fish, or water of unknown depths, I would have gladly joined them if it meant keeping cool.


(This is a crappy picture but it's the bridge and those little dots in the water towards the bottom, are the kids)





It was during our third anchorage at Cobb Island that the Knotty Cat decided to test our sanity. Hans thought something didn't seem to be quite right after dropping the anchor because we weren't swinging properly into the wind, but after putting her in reverse a couple of times she held fast. The next day we thought our bearings were a bit off, but what the hell did we know anyway?

That's when I realized we were a lot closer to the 'no wake zone buoy' than we should be.

"We're a lot closer to the no wake zone buoy than we should be." I announced.

"No we're not."

"Yes we are."

"No we're not."

"Then why is the no wake zone buoy about to be rammed up our boat's ass?" I asked as our stern plowed into it.

"Oh shit! We're dragging!" Hans had to admit.

We fired up the engines and re-anchored thus giving the locals something more to stare at, but at least we held firm this time.


And finally, Cobb Island is where I witnessed the infamous cormorant fight.

Hans had gone ashore and Wilbur and I were left to fend for ourselves. I was watching the morbid battle with my binoculars when I realized a passing motor boat consisting of an entire family of Dad, Mom, and kids was staring at me. Embarrassed at being caught with my binoculars I tried explaining myself by frantically pointing toward the gruesome fight. Dad laughed and shouted to me, "They're fornicatin'!" and I shouted back, "No they're not! They're fighting over a snake!" Only then did the bored family come to life and they all leaned over the side in excitement in order to see the battle, leading me to believe that fornicating is a pretty dull routine on Cobb Island.

I gotta tell you, this trip was way better than reality TV.