11/24 ● You Don’t Always Get What You Want

We arrived in Bermuda around 3am of the 18th, but had to stall outside the reef until day break in order to let two tankers go through the Town Cut before we could enter St. George’s harbor. How we got here is an interesting story.

Upon leaving the Chesapeake, we were greeted with calm seas and almost no wind. In fact, we just sat in the water, sails down, most of one evening waiting for wind. Then, the wind came, first from the northwest (good for our intended course), but then, increasingly from the south or southeast—directly where we were headed! Not only that, the force of the wind grew. We began to reduce sail, able to sail east, but only a little south. The fourth day out was pleasant. We checked the forecasts and decided to head SW, not ideal, but at least getting to lower latitudes. It appears we sailed directly into a major gale. After battling the wind, reefing sails and trying to make headway, on the morning of the 16th, hove to (more or less stopping with minimal sail up). This went fairly well. We stayed below, resting, occasionally venturing to the porthole to witness the massive seas we were climbing over. As we were eating lunch, we heard an explosion from on deck. Bill popped up and saw that the furler, an aluminum rod that the mainsail attaches to and wraps around, had sheered off at its base. It was being held more or less to the mast by the furling wire. Bill returned to think a minute, donned his foulies, and approached the mast with a piece of rope, planning to try and secure the whole thing. As he leaned to it, boom!, the whole thing came loose, the outhaul line parted like a piece of string, and it all went flying horizontally from the masthead. We watched in amazement, being thankful that Bill approached it from upwind. The forces were amazing. We looked at each other. “Bermuda seems like a nice place to go,” Bill said. We started up our engine and began motoring the 150 miles to the WNW.

Later that evening, the winds subsided, but the ghost of our mainsail and the long metal furler continued to haunt us from above, like some tormented soul who didn’t know it was time to let go. Occasionally it would dip playfully beside us in the water, but at other times, it soared down like a banshee, bent on destruction. It did do damage, and prevented us from using any sail at all on our limp into Bermuda. Then, as we made our slow way around the west side of Bermuda, like a contrite runaway pony, the mainsail stuck its nose inside the cockpit and let Pam get ahold of it. Bill quickly wrapped the whole mess around the mast. It was thus that we entered the harbor at St. George’s. We couldn’t ignore other cruisers coming out to take pictures of us.

Once anchored, we checked in with customs by radio, put up the quarantine flag and began to get the damned dead mainsail and assorted wreckage down from atop the mast. Bill was able to finally free it but Pam had too much trouble getting it to behave on deck. All of a sudden there were four on-looking cruisers at our boat (in their dinghies) asking if we needed help. Before we could finish saying yes, they were all on board, doing all that needed to be done to get the main under control and tied down to the deck. They were like angels swooping down to our rescue. Once that was done, we went to the customs office to officially check in. We found a sail maker to take the wreckage off our hands and we contracted them to furnish us with a new, traditional sail (no more furler). Finally, at around 2pm, we took a well-needed nap. Not sure exactly how long we’ll be here, but probably about a month.

We’ve since learned that, during this particular big blow, 4 boats had to be abandoned (including a commercial fishing boat that went down with some of its crew) and several boats came in to Bermuda which hadn’t planned to do so because of some kind of damage, malfunction or just to get out of the harsh weather before continuing south. Rubin (with whom we’d left Hampton) was on his way to St. Marten but ended up here. Ed, Sandy and Mick Jager (their German Shepard) were on their way to Puerto Rico but ended up here. Another crew was on their way to St. Kitts but ended up here….. and on like that.

As Thanksgiving approaches, we realize we do have something to give thanks for. It’s a different place, but we are safe. Maybe we didn’t get what we wanted, but we got what we needed.

Photos: The sail loft; our present home; making friends at the sail loft; mainsail wreckage.

11/7 ● On Our Way to St. Thomas

Hampton was great and the town harbor and marina was a perfect place to get ready – state of the art! We had big fun with Dwayne and Lillian Ross (Pam’s brother and sister-in-law). They showed us a good time and were an invaluable asset in getting us around town in order to provision for the ocean passage. The annual Caribbean 1500 rally–-a group of sailboats that travel en masse from the Chesapeake to Tortola, BVI are here but plan on leaving this morning. We were going to leave with them (about 49 boats in all) but we’ve decided to wait to see whether hurricane Paloma would cross our path. We decide to leave on Sunday. Next stop: St. Thomas.

10/31● Happy Halloween!!

After being in Washington, D.C. for well over a month, we finally left (last Thursday) and made our way to Hampton, VA, arriving yesterday. We stopped in the Coan River, Cockerell Creek in the Great Wicomico River, the Piankatank River and Cape Charles. Most of the way was fine and the anchorages were beautiful but Cape Charles was a nightmare all around. Think of it as the Tierra del Fuego of the Chesapeake. We had horrible weather both going and leaving there. We careened in with a 30 knot wind, only to find that the harbor barely had water deep enough for us. In fact, after bouncing off the bottom and finally tying up 3 feet from the sea wall, Songbird had to remain there for 2 hours until she could float to her assigned slip. (Meanwhile, we walked ashore and had a nice dinner – a redeeming feature of Cape C.) And, the wind the next morning was only 5 knots less than the preceding day. It wasn’t a pretty place either – a desolate, industrial setting. We may never go back to Cape Charles!
We had a great time in D.C. visiting with friends and making new cruiser friends as they came and left the D.C. harbor. One of our favorite places to spend time was at the Capital Yacht Club bar but we weren’t always derelicts. Pam did her power walks around the tidal basin and Bill participated in a weekly Tuesday eve regatta with Captain Skip, coming in 6th place – not too bad since they only participated 60% of the time.

We’ll be in Hampton for about a week before we take off.
Photos: Holiday greetings from Ted; D.C. arrival; Weekly Regatta; Capital Yacht Club; D.C. departure - note difference in attire.

9/13 ● Solomon’s Isl., Cobb Isl.., Mattawoman

There were plenty of anchorages to choose from once we were inside Solomon’s Island harbor (many lined with marinas), but Mill Creek was too charming to resist, so we dropped the hook smack dab in the middle of it. It was a small, little tree-lined bay populated with very nice houses, all possessing there own docks, boat houses, etc., and of course, interesting (to us) boats. We stayed for 2 nights, then moved on to Cobb Island, arriving in the early evening.

We anchored in 8 feet of water (whew!) and went ashore for happy hour at The Pirate’s Cove. Once we ventured onto the harbor-view patio (away from the eardrum splitting juke box) we were greeted by the friendly, colorful people of this small water-based community. There were the two on the rail, working on their most recent of many, many beers—a weathered, scarred waterman and his heavily-tattooed biker friend. The first commented that we tied up our dinghy just the way he does, then, remembering his manners, held out his hand and said “Duffy, my name’s Duffy.” Bill took his hand and said his name, then the fellow nodded saying, “Well, same as me. William Duffy’s the name.” He was a commercial crab fisherman, and had many interesting stories about work and misadventures, but for all his roughness, he was a kind fellow. Then, we were greeted by the deeply-tanned, short-shorted self-described “Social Director” of Cobb Island (nursing-director was her day job). So, our happy hour was just that, about an hour long and very happy. We merrily motored back to Songbird for dinner and a quiet evening.
Next day ... Mattawoman, where we spotted a bald eagle hunting for dinner and heard the call of blue herons. They sound sort of like a pterodactyl might have, eons ago.
Friday morning, 9/12, we weighed anchor and headed up the Potomac River, arriving in the Washington, D.C. channel that afternoon. When we dinghied to the marina, we were greeted by many of Bill’s cronies at the Capital Yacht Club. We’ll be here for a few weeks to visit friends and family and to wait out the hurricane season before heading offshore, toward St. Thomas, USVI.
Photos: Homes & their boats along Mill Creek; below video of Songbird on the move.

9/8 ● Galesville, MD – on the West River

Shortly after we arrived at Hartge’s Marina Friday afternoon, and tied down tight to a slip (9/5, we walked to town for a wonderful crab cake dinner, had a good night’s sleep and woke up to an all-day storm. It wasn’t nearly as severe as the weather sayers predicted and Saturday evening, when the storm left the river, it was absolutely beautiful. We departed the West River Sunday morning …. on to Solomon’s Island, via a peaceful night in Herring Bay.

Photo: West River, just after storm Hannah

9/6 ● Annapolis Is Truly Charming But …

…we must move on to a better location to be ready for tropical storm Hannah. We had planned on staying in Annapolis through the weekend and do some sightseeing but we changed plans on Thursday and made our way to the West River on Friday (9/5). This particular part of the West River, near Galesville, MD, is known, among sailors, for being a hurricane hole – safe haven in a storm. We took a slip at the Hartge Yacht Yard, tied down tight and waited for the storm to pass – high winds – torrential rains – oh boy!!! We’ll head to the Potomac River on Sunday or Monday.

Photos: Thomas Point Lighthouse, just south of Annapolis; A dense forest of sailboat masts in Annapolis, the boating capital of America.

8/29 ● Engines Are Good

We have a sailboat and that’s good. The boat has sails, and that’s even better. But the best combination is when you add a properly installed engine. WE ARE ON THE WAY TO ANNAPOLIS! Yay!!
Cape May was very pleasant and laid back with down-to-earth locals. We met several interesting characters while anchored in Cape May Bay. Many cruisers on their way to Florida or the Bahamas, or just to the Chesapeake. Retired couples, young couples on summer holiday, people with kids and dogs. One couple had a well adapted kitty cat, anxious to meet and greet. We watched the fishing boats go out in the evenings and come back early the next mornings. We explored Cape May’s harbor living. We saw houses and condos with yards and garages in front and boats, in their slips in the rear looking out onto canals -- the best of two worlds.
Photos: Sunset across from the Coastguard Station; Commercial fishing boats; Townhouse with its own windmill power; Songbird on its way out of there.