Post-Irene

Weather is important—especially when it’s in the North East, it becomes a major media event.  Also the coverage area of our local media includes communities that had good reason to prepare for a hurricane.  In Philadelphia, we were only expecting a Tropical Storm, but multiple forecasts threatened sustained winds of 40-45 knots per hour with gusts up to 60-65.  For peace of mind we prepared for the worst and hoped for the best.

Friday

Although the sun was shining Friday afternoon, our office closed early as a show of support for Mayor Nutter’s preparedness plan.  Knowing all that we had to do, I was happy to take advantage of the extra hours.  Stopping at the market, I stocked up on staples.  The grey clouds had set in by the time I got across the Market Street bridge.  I ran into a marina friend, baby strapped on, and asked what their plans were.  She told me she and the baby would wait out the storm in the safety of a friend’s house while her husband tended to the boat in the storm.
The men in the marina had spent the last few days denying any concern, shoving their hands in their pockets.  “It’s just another storm.”  That they happened to be right in the end is happenstance and little more.
Once home, I began working on the sailboat.  The marina guidelines said “remove all canvas” which matched my Dad’s advice.  He warned that even a slight gap in the roller furling could create windage.  I took off the dodger and bimini which prompted Peter to grumble that he would have just tied them down.  Together we took off the mainsail and headsail and stuffed them into the sailboat.

Saturday

The next morning clouds hung heavy in the sky.  By afternoon the rain began and the wind picked up.  Gusts were now predicted at 55 kph.  Friday evening’s argument was resolved:  if the value of staying was the ability to respond to any problems, then being over-prepared to deal with them quickly and safely was paramount.  We spent the next several hours cleaning up anything that might blow and eventually moved our plants inside. I had an evacuation bag ready, life jackets and a flood light on the boat, extra lines a hand’s reach away. We took stock and decided that everything was replaceable except our laptops and my teaching portfolio which I moved to storage.  We settled in for a night of wind and rain, ready to respond to trouble, fix a broken line or evacuate if needed.

Sunday

Thankfully we only saw sustained 20 kph wind with the highest gust getting up to 37.  We were fine.  The wind and rain continued through morning and we saw sun late that afternoon.  The worst part is the inconvenience of having to hank back on sails so we can get out to enjoy the beautiful weather that always follows a hurricane.

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Irene

All anyone is talking about is Hurricane Irene.

Updates

As of 11:00 a.m. The National Weather Service (NOAA) issued the latest bulletin.  As the Bahamas discontinues their warnings, we on the East Coast, particularly places near the water, are on alert as watches and warnings are extended.  A Hurricane Warning has just been extended northward in the Chesapeake to Drum Point.

Defining the Terminology

According to the NOAA website: 

Hurricane warning

• Hurricane conditions are expected somewhere within the warning area.

• Issued 36 hours before the anticipated first occurrence of tropical-storm-force winds...conditions that make outside preparations difficult or dangerous. Preparations to protect life and property should be rushed to completion.

Tropical storm warning

• Tropical storm conditions are expected somewhere within the warning area within 36 hours.

Hurricane watch

• Hurricane conditions are possible within the watch area.
  
• Issued 48 hours before the anticipated first occurrence of tropical-storm-force winds...conditions that make outside preparations difficult or dangerous.
  

Preparing to Ride out the Storm

The closest I’ve come to a hurricane so far was when I first arrived in Trinidad and Hurricane Ivan brushed by east of Tobago—of course it hit Grenada, Jamaica, Grand Cayman, Cuba and Alabama—but we were lucky to only see high winds and some rain.  Nothing too dramatic.  Peter witnessed Arlene passing right over him as he returned to the US after a year long sailing trip.  These experiences make us a little less nervous than most people, but we still plan to be fully prepared.

After a close eye on the NOAA and Weather Underground websites, the prevailing prediction for Philadelphia is that we will see more of the Tropical Storm conditions considering that the Hurricane is predicted to be downgraded to a Category 1 by the time it reaches the Delmarva Peninsula and we are a good 50 miles inland.

Peter will take all our sails and canvas off and secure everything outside that might be carried away by the winds.  Our emergency readiness is something I maintain on the sailboat at all times:  flashlights, batteries, first aid kit, canned foods.  We probably have enough to bug-out at a moment’s notice and live for three or four weeks!


We’ll prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.  Updates in the next post!

In the meantime…Dark & Stormy anyone? 

Here’s my version of Rum & Ginger Ale

Squeeze juice of one lime into a 1 Qt pitcher Add Sailor Jerry’s or a good dark Caribbean Rum (Cruzan, Appleton’s, etc.  Pyrat is too good for this drink!)
Dash or two of Angostura bitters (this makes the drink—don’t even attempt it without!)
Fill pitcher 1/2 way with ginger ale, stir allowing bubbles to mix and infuse the drink.  This is essential to a good drink!
Fill pitcher with remaining ginger ale Serve over ice; garnish with either a lime slice or a bing cherry (as shown) if they are in season.

Block Island: Andiamo!

Having heard about Block Island numerous times, I was prepared to love it, but nothing prepared me for the magic!

Getting There

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Our 2010 trip from Philadelphia to Block Island, down Long Island Sound through Hell Gate to New York City and back home was my first time offshore. We left Philadelphia July 3^rd and motor-sailed down the Delaware River and Bay rounding Cape May lighthouse entering the ocean the evening of July 4^th.

That evening as the waves rolled and the last blue-violet light of day clung to the horizon, I looked up at the sky and began to see stars emerge. There were so many they looked like fireworks standing still. They glowed and shone in twinkling rhythm, the vast blue sky steady behind them.  As darkness fell over the ocean, I could barely make out the lights of land. Then fireworks flashed like brake lights in traffic. They flashed up and down the Jersey coast in all the seaside towns where people went to celebrate Independence Day. The vastness of that night, my first night offshore cannot be captured.

By evening of the second day, we had Montauk in sight and shortly after, Mohegan bluffs on the south shore of Block Island.

Arriving at anchorage

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Coming into Salt Pond, the Coast Guard Station on the right stood watch as the sun set.  Looking for a place to anchor, I was astounded by the number of boats anchored. We motored past row after row finally finding a place to set down the hook. It was late--we were happy to sleep.

 

To Do

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It was late morning when we woke.  Around noon we took a water taxi up to The Oar for a lunch of gin and tonics and seafood. There we met a man who began describing the place where he’d recently bought his sailboat and we realized he was describing our home marina!  We had that small-world coincidence feeling that told us we were in the right place at the right time.

We began to wander the two miles into town, stopping to take pictures and pick up a few supplies. We found Block Island Depot, a grocery with some choice provisions. Looking for propane tanks, we stopped next at Island Hardware store. Then we worked our way into town finally reaching Sachem Pond.

 

Only on Block Island

The next morning, I awoke to a voice far off calling out. As it neared I heard An-di-AHHMMM-OOOOO, An-di-ahhmm-o! It was Aldo’s Bakery boat motoring up to those who hailed him either on the VHF or from the cockpit. As the boat approached our cockpit, we saw a spread of danish, muffins, breads, coffee and juices. I pointed to peach muffins which were carefully handed up to us with coffee.  We also stocked up on bread:  Challah and Italian.

It was time to go, but with plenty more to do in Block Island we have good reason to return.

Favorite Dock Bars

It’s getting near the end of the season here in the Northeast, but as they say, it’s 5:00 somewhere.  Check out these favorite dock bars either by land or by sea.  Remember to enjoy in moderation though so you can safely get to an anchorage or home.

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79th Street Boat Basin Café

By far my favorite of all.  If you have the chance, stay at the 79th Street Boat Basin and walk up to the restaurant.  It’s tough getting into the basin (you need at least a half tide’s worth of water) and they don’t take reservations, but it’s well worth the feeling of staying there.  If you have a dinghy, you can pick up a mooring ball and tie up at the marina.  There’s nothing calm about the water here—it is New York Harbor—so don’t expect a gentle night.
The café is laid back and totally unpretentious: plastic blue checked table cloths on plastic tables.  This belies the coolness of the place.  The vaulted ceilings inside give it an old world feel and the lights give it an ambience only outdone by the view of the Hudson River and the boats in the marina. This is a great place to have a bite to eat and a few margaritas.  It’s an even better place to meet friends.  Hands-down the best way to arrive in New York City that I know!

Curtin's Wharf Restaurant

Curtin's, located in nearby Burlington, NJ, is the easiest place to get to from Philadelphia, whether sailing or driving.  Open from Memorial Day to Labor Day, they have a very laid back atmosphere and music at night.  We’ve taken several group sails up the river and stopped here. This is a good place to get a spot on the dock and settle in for a night of fun—it’s smart to take a dinghy though in case the dock is full.  This place is packed on nice weekends.  Mariners seeking ice will find it in the ship’s store located a few hundred feet from the front of the restaurant.

Red Eye's Dock Bar and The Jetty

These are two separate dock bars on either side of the Kent Narrows drawbridge.  You may decide to stop at both if you are awaiting a bridge opening.  At The Jetty, you can order crabs and sit at an outdoor table for the Maryland feeling.  I much prefer to sit at Red Eye’s outside bar for the Caribbean feeling—but only during the week when they aren’t having the bikini contest and every red neck on the Eastern Shore shows up on their Harley to partake in the action.

Stan's Idle Hour

Note the segue…here it is every red neck in Southwest Florida and even wannabe red necks donning mullet caps (baseball caps with built in hair pieces) for the occasion to watch Stan do the Buzzard’s Lope.  Everyone should experience Stan’s at least once, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Check back for more dock bar suggestions!

Making the most of summer

Making the most of summer

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The best laid plans

Last week signs of fall began making their debut in Philadelphia: sunrise a few minutes later, sunset a bit earlier, longer shadows, women trying on boots, and Eagles shirts on passersby.  Two beautiful days at the end of the work week promised to be followed by at least one perfect summer day on Saturday.  We planned to take full advantage of it by planning our weekend sailing trip: a sail down river with Saturday afternoon’s tide and then anchor, barbeque (see Galley) and enjoy a full moon, making the most of our favorite season before it ends.

Friday evening we had cocktails on the patio and enjoyed the sunset and the nearly full moon coming up over the river while we tested out the new camera.  Saturday morning, I awoke to a beautiful sky and ignored the niggling “red sky in the morning” warning.  After a run and getting a few chores out of the way, we prepared to leave the marina in the early afternoon.  Suddenly black clouds rolled in.  We ignored the sky’s warning again and thought maybe it will blow over as quickly as it blew in.  Once out, the rain was hard to ignore, but we rationalized a bad day sailing is still better than sitting indoors.

Up the Schuylkill:  Exploring Philadelphia’s other river

As the rain got heavier, we decided to head home for the night.  On the way we took the opportunity to explore the Schuylkill River.  This has held a fascination for me—to see how the river connects from the Schuylkill river trail to where the mouth meets the Delaware.  Normally we would never take several hours to get somewhere we can walk to in 20 minutes, but we wanted to add a little adventure to Saturday’s disappointing weather.  Imagining ourselves as explorers entering the unchartered interior didn’t work for long as we saw smoke stacks, oil refineries, and eventually the city skyline.  But it was a cool view of Philadelphia and the natives seemed friendly!

Deep Water

Our weekend ended with a deluge and an inside movie day.  We chose Deep Water which Peter told me was the story about the 1968 Sunday Times Golden Globe Race, the first single-handed, round-the-world, non-stop sailboat race.  Not knowing Donald Crowhurst’s fate before watching made it much more engaging.  I felt the anxiety that Donald’s wife expressed because I can imagine Peter being out there alone.  The danger the men faced and the compelling call of the sea for them were haunting.  The wisdom of both Clare Crowhurst and Bernard Moitessier’s wife were highlights for me.  These women somehow held it together while their husbands faced unfathomable odds--they are the professional sea wives!

While the weekend didn’t turn out as we planned, we felt lucky to be tucked in safely as we waited out the storm and we’ll hope for next weekend to be those great summer days we need before the end.

Coming into St. Michaels Harbor

IMG_3835, a photo by mikec16 on Flickr.

Mariners cannot miss the entrance to St. Michaels when they see the old Hopper Strait Lighthouse which was relocated to the current location at the mouth of the harbor.

St. Michaels

In keeping with our vacation goal to get into new places when we needed to provision, we headed to St. Michaels—the place to arrive by boat.. St. Michaels wasn’t exactly new to me, I remember going there as a teen on our family sailboat. It was one of our first weekend trips south of the Route 50 drawbridge at Kent Narrows where we kept the boat. I don’t remember much from that visit and Peter had never been so we made it a priority stop.

Getting to St. Michaels

Waking up at anchor in Tilghman Creek, we watched the crabbers run from shore to shore, trying to decipher their system. A few days later we would see the trotlines up close, but for now we watched without grabbing the binoculars, not wanting to offend these working watermen.

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Of the few marinas listed in our guide, we decided on St. Michaels Harbour Inn Marina.  When I spoke to the dock master on the phone to reserve a slip for a flat rate of $110 a night, he told me to hail on channel 9 when we arrived in St. Michaels and to remember to say “Harbour” to distinguish them from the town dock.
Following the chart and channel markers, we motored 45 minutes before seeing the iconic Hooper Strait Lighthouse.

Arriving at the Marina

We found St. Michaels Harbour Inn Marina a good choice.  The pool and outside restaurant added to the atmosphere.  Clean bathrooms with laundry facilities are a welcome detail to any cruiser’s ear and ice an appreciated amenity.  The next morning we borrowed bikes at the front desk of the Inn which made the commute into town easy.

To do

Whether arriving by water or land, the town of St. Michaels is a tourist’s town with history surrounding it.  Walking down the main street, Talbot, you can choose among shops for tee-shirts, hats and post cards or more serious shopping in the boutiques lining the street which itself is a postcard, lined with entries in the annual poster contest.  

Top Picks: 

The Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum is as informative as it is beautiful.  Here you can learn about the history of the bay, how the European settlers negotiated with native Americans, navigated the waters of the bay and made first attempts at mapping the area.  You’ll also learn the importance of the oyster business to bay waterman and residents.  Maritime historical novelties abound:  a boat building shed, old working boats, old pleasure boats and sea treasures like the figurehead from the schooner Freedom.  Be sure to tour the Hooper Strait Lighthouse.


The Crab Claw Restaurant which has a website but not a credit card machine (!) serves a great lunch/dinner of local seafood.  Bring your cash and your appetite here!  We started with steamed oysters served with drawn butter and Old Bay and lunch was rockfish—mine was topped with crabmeat.  All was fresh and delicious.


Please share your experiences in St. Michaels.

Chuting The Moon

We got our spinnaker up last night! Since we brought Moon home in May, we’ve been trying out different sails—either bequeathed to us or retrieved from storage. Yet this was only the third time we’d had a spinnaker out of its bag on Moon, the second time it was flying and the first time it went smoothly.

Flying the “chute”

… or “kite” requires not only just-right conditions—a light breeze from the right direction, fairly calm seas—but also coordination between everyone on the boat and a steady focus on the sail.  Normally the headsail is controlled by two lines, but the spinnaker has five controls that must be coordinated:  the guy, the sheet, the downhaul, the topping lift, and the car on the mast that determines the height of the pole.  For all the work, it’s worth it especially while racing because the spinnaker makes the boat go fast.

Despite best intentions of testing our new spinnaker on vacation, it never got out of the bag.  Once home and these weekday races started, Peter reclaimed his old spinnaker from storage.  I just learned the old one is affectionately referred to as Mrs.Thatcher and the new one had no name until the first time we got it out of the bag.

The first time

The night we sailed downriver with Liz, Ralph and Andy, Andy proposed getting Mrs. Thatcher out of the bag and after a short group discussion we all decided that the new spinnaker needed a name but couldn’t be named until we could see it flying. Andy ran lines while Peter drove and I observed/assisted—something that only happens when we have more hands on deck. The conditions that evening never warranted a spinnaker though and despite our readiness and even hoisting briefly enough to see it, the thing never filled with air and we dropped it quickly. But we saw enough of the blue and red on white background to conjure up the Czech flag and suggestions of Václav Havel were discussed.

The second time

Havel went up was last week, racing against Mike and R on the Santana. Peter and I alone, we worked our stations and clumsily raised the spinnaker for the first time together. From R’s account, there was a good deal of yelling heard across the river. We needed to clear the air.

Third time’s a charm

Last night, knowing we were facing Mike in the latest re-match, and knowing the wind would go light, Peter pre-ran the lines for the spinnaker thinking we would be out alone. At the last minute Al joined us for the race. With the three of us, we hoisted Mrs. Thatcher with ease. Her broad shoulders and light weight (half ounce) were perfect for the downwind, broad reach conditions. Peter and Al taught me how to pull the guy to adjust the pole and the big red, white and blue spinnaker puffed out over our starboard bow.  The spinnaker was flying with ease!
Sailing Glossary

A sailboat in the moonlight & you

Billie Holiday's song “A Sailboat in the Moonlight and You!" Lyrics

Click on the arrow to play the song.

A Chance to Drift

Leaving our anchorage across from the Bohemia River Sunday morning, we had little wind and no idea of our plans.  After a early morning swim around the boat, we had our coffee and started down the upper bay.  The wind was non-existent and our sails hung limply.  The current was the only reason we were moving.  As the morning drifted by, we moved slowly down the bay.  A lazy lunch of barbecued pork chops (just thawed) and Sauvignon Blanc left us calm and carefree.  It was a chance to drift.

It was mid-afternoon by the time we realized the remaining ice would be gone long before evening cocktails.  We planned a quick dip into Tolchester Marina for ice to maintain our other carefully frozen provisions, but found a jumping Tiki bar and the fuel dock packed with boats.  As we got back out into the bay, we discussed our new number one boat project:  refrigeration!

Thoughts of a stopover in Rock Hall or Annapolis ran through my head but the wind picked up that afternoon as we approached the Bay Bridge and we knew we had plenty of good sailing hours left in the day. We sailed past the mouth of the Severn with the sun setting behind the capital building in Annapolis and decided to keep sailing.

A Soft Breeze on a June Night

The nearly full moon was rising just as the sun was getting low and we prepared for a night sail.  With the decreased visibility of night, the navigator’s role becomes vital.  Checking charts for navigational aids and then scanning the horizon for the blinking red and green lights of the markers helps the skipper to avoid dangers, in this case:  Bloody Point shoals.  One thing that makes all this much easier is the GPS-connected laptop with the chart plotter showing the boat’s position.  With my help, Peter sailed us safely past the shoals and we were tucked into Tilghman Creek by 1:30 that morning.

The night will stand out in memory.  These are the moments why we sail, why we tolerate small spaces, the lack of modern comforts, and windless drifting.  This night, the breeze was perfect: a warm, steady breeze out of the south east at 12-14 knots.  Waves just big enough to give the boat some motion and occasionally cause some spray to splash up on the deck.  The moon, big and bright reflected on the water. As we sailed down the bay, I recalled Billie Holiday's lines, "Some things dear that I long for are few, Just give me a sailboat in the moonlight and you."

Chesapeake Bay Getaway

Chesapeake Bay Getaway

We wanted a relaxed vacation this summer. After the hard work of finding our new boat, getting her ready to put in the water, and bringing her down from New York, we just wanted time on the boat without any  adventures. We wanted great day sails, quiet anchorages where we could swim and have happy hours followed by barbequed dinners, and easy port destinations when provisions ran low. These reasons among others are what draw recreational boaters to the Chesapeake Bay for vacation. We also wanted time to live on the boat to find out what we need to do to make her ready for a longer trip, perhaps across the Atlantic, down the Islands or just temporary living quarters to relocate to a warmer state.

 

Planning the Trip

One thing to explain about planning a sailing trip, while one may hope to stop somewhere, the trip is determined by the wind, the weather and optimizing the experience—which means even though we have a new diesel engine that can reliably get us from point A to B, it’s just not vacation while it’s running. One way we make the most of our days is to plan our trip for early July when the days are 15 hours long. Evening stopovers usually happen with just enough time to set the anchor before the sun goes down. Going into a town marina takes a little more time and planning.  Given all of the variables, we start our trip with some loose ideas and a wish list.  The wish list for this vacation:  getting as far south as possible, perhaps as far as Mike’s house in Virginia, a stop in Solomon’s Island, Annapolis to see family, St. Michaels, Kent Island (for the Red Eye bar), and anchoring in gunkholes for a front row piece of sky. With only 10 days, we weren’t going to be able to do it all, but we’d stay open to what developed along the way.

 

Getting there…

From Philadelphia, the Chesapeake Bay is about a day away.  Timing the current in the river and canal is the best way we know to ease progress to the bay.  Catching the ebb in the Delaware late in the evening, a stop-over at Newcastle Flats just south of the Delaware Memorial Bridge is a welcome half way point to time the current through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. An ebb current through the canal means three hours' motoring gets you to the other side. So it makes a good time to multi-task—wash dishes, stow everything away properly, read the cruising guide, look at the charts, discuss possible itineraries—all while getting to the bay.

Once through the canal at the top of the bay, the sunset saw us anchored directly across from the Bohemia River.  It was Saturday evening and our whole vacation was still ahead of us.  Our Chesapeake Bay getaway would unfold over the next week in ways that we didn’t yet foresee.  <check back!>