With our new crewmember, Grampa Wells, aboard, we cast off the lines from the public dock at Elizabeth City, saying goodbye to the gracious hospitality of the ‘Rose Buddies’ and their quaint, small town. With little wind, we motored about 35 miles back out into the Ablemarle Sound, then up the North River to rejoin the ICW at the beginning of the ‘Virginia Cut’. The ICW here splits into two routes to nearby Norfolk – the Virginia Cut and the Great Dismal Swamp. While the later sounds unappealing, it is considered to be the more scenic of the two routes. Opened in 1805, it was not just scenic but much safer compared to the ravages of the North Carolina coast for transporting cargo north and south. Flatboats were the name of the game back then, and they carried lumber and other critical supplies in and out of Norfolk, as that city became a major supplier to troops in the Revolutionary War. But, as the flatboats gave way to steamships, the Great Dismal Swamp met its demise due to its shallow depths. The deeper Virginia Cut came into being in 1859, and although traveled now by larger boats and commercial craft, it is no less stunning in its beauty. We dropped anchor at the small uninhabited Buck Island. According to the chart, we could expect depths of 7-8′, and thankful there is virtual no tide fluctuation here, as you can see that we had a measly 0.3′ under the keel!
But, whatever the depth, stopping here was a foregone conclusion. It was 21 years ago that my father and I anchored in the lee of Buck Island aboard my boat ‘Two if by Sea’. I remember the sky looking cold, gray and threatening, and perhaps that is way my Dad and I retreated to the cabin to rustle up some stew. Having limited culinary skills, we based this stew on what ingredients we had available, starting with a stick of kielbasa and several cans of beans. After whipping the drool off our chins (hey, mom was away and I wasn’t courting any girlfriends at the time!), we deemed our stew a success and dubbed it ‘Buck Island Stew’. To our amazement, Buck Island Stew has carried on through those 21 years and been served up on other boating and camping trips, most recently when my Dad and step mom visited us in Puerto Rico. On that occasion, we passed the ‘secret’ recipe on to the next generation – Zack – and although several changes have been made to the recipe that reflect a woman’s (read: Karen) touch, the stew is unmistaken bachelor in origin! And so, without question, and as we watched the sounder alternate between 0.3 and 0.4, Buck Island Stew was borne out of the Thalia galley to grace the dinner table once again! Here’s Zack on veggie detail, and Grampa and our youngest enjoying some first spoonfuls. That’s little Buck Island in the background.
Clearly, Mother Nature had been at work in the 21 years since our last visit, as we were graced with uncompromising beauty on our overnight stop. As we enjoyed our stew, the sun set behind us and brought with it a bug-less, cool evening, easily the nicest evening we had enjoyed so far in North Carolina.
Before we left the next morning, we launched the kayaks and had a great time exploring the marshes around Buck Island. That’s Buck Island in the distance.
I hope that when we come back to Buck Island, the activities, the company, and the reminiscing will be as special as this visit.
We had 3 days before we needed to get to Hampton to drop off Grampa Wells, which allowed us the advantage of less time underway and more time to explore ashore. From Buck Island, we motored up the ICW about 20 miles to the town of Pungo Ferry and secured one of the marina’s slips. This was more of a utilitarian stop than anything else, as we couldn’t find a suitable place to drop the hook in this narrow part of the ICW. The chart clearly indicated a couple places with 10+’ depths where the original North Landing River winded like a serpent downstream, looping back and forth across the direct cut that the ICW engineers had made. We tried three of these serpent alcoves and were rebuffed by all of them. I jumped in the dinghy and with the handheld sounder checked them out, driving slowly across the entire opening of each, but they held depths of only 6′ or less. I doubt there are many ICW travelers that haven’t at one time or another, perhaps in a fit of frustration like we felt now, longed to survey these waters themselves and offer up truly accurate charts, something much more current than the government charts. At some times, the antique quality of the charts was glaringly obvious. We crossed under one bridge that was labeled as a swing bridge on the chart, the kind that rotate on a central island, but the bridge was actually a bascule bridge, the kind with two halves that rise up vertically from each side. The bascule bridge had been completed 3 years ago. In another spot, the chart indicated we were approaching a railroad bridge and it gave its height and width, but there was no bridge anymore. In fact, there was no trace of it anywhere; there were significant shrubs and trees growing where the grading had met the river bank. The bridge clearly had not been there in at least 5 years. Oh well, it kept us on our toes!
At Pungo Ferry, we discovered a wide open grassy field that was perfect for a model rocket our youngest had purchased back at the Wright Brothers National Monument store. It wasn’t exactly the ideal toy to have on a boat surrounded by water, and our youngest, after diligently cutting and assembling the pieces together, became distraught that he’d have to wait until our return home before it would see some flight time. But, this field was unmistakably the ideal testing site. His rocket used baking soda and vinegar as a propellant, and thankfully, the second attempt worked, as we promptly ran out of vinegar!
Our evening was wrapped up with another amazing sunset. I used to look at these types of sunset shots in magazines and smirk at how the photographer must have cheated with a color filter, but this is the real McCoy folks, nothing but your middle-of-the-road digital camera at work! For a moment, it felt like we were back in the Caribbean!
With not much else binding us to Pungo Ferry, we left early the next morning. I must say, I am going to look back on this trip with fond memories of these mornings. Nothing feels better than to turn out of the bunk, throw on another pair of shorts and t-shirt, and raise anchor as the sun is just starting to break through. Karen and I have enjoyed many mornings this way, either motoring or sailing under a light breeze. The way the sunlight strikes the shore, the water, and the seabirds, and casts long shadows is truly spectacular. Plus, it helps you beat the heat to get to your destination before the peak of the day!
On this day, we had another short 20 mile motor to a town named Great Bridge. Here, we tied up at a town dock, one of many free docks that these small towns offer to welcome transients like us. By late morning when we arrived, it was scorching hot, heat that was only slightly reduced by our big white awning. But, to get some much needed exercise, we all started on a walk down the main street in town and just before major heat exhaustion set in we found our savior – a Dairy Queen! We also found, just beyond the public dock, the impressive new five lane bridge at Great Bridge and the only lock that we would transit on the ICW – Great Bridge lock.
This lock only lowered boats about 2 feet, into the Elizabeth River, but more importantly, it serves to protect the salty water of Elizabeth River from affecting the fresh water habitat of the North Landing River from whence we came. We planned to transit the lock the next morning, and it was enjoyable to watch other boats negotiate the lock before we had to take the plunge.
Back at the dock, we were joined by a smaller sailboat that hailed from Boston, and the lone skipper was a friendly chap, looking so comfortable in his cockpit that it seemed like he was a foot fitting into a well worn shoe. Indeed, he regaled us and the boat behind us with a few sailing stories before the bugs forced us into the womb-like interior of Thalia. Sadly, it was two days later that we learned from our neighbors that his boat, ‘Morning Sun’, had struck an overhead power line after the skipper missed a turn on the ICW and the boat lit up and quickly burned to the water. He escaped to the water and was safely rescued, but lost what had been his home for 8 years. Arguably, the fact that he didn’t carry any charts, and only had a small old GPS, might have led to the accident, but it still showed how close we can be to a major catastrophe, to ‘losing it all’. There have been many times on this trip where I’ve had to wrestle with these devilish thoughts. We’ve worked to create the safest ship we can, and one can do the same on land, but chance or worse yet a humanly mistake can end it all. Who was it that said that you should worry about what you can control and let the rest go? That sounds like the ticket!
Once again, we motored away at first light and caught the hourly opening of the lock with a few minutes to spare.
Thankfully, this was easy work. Karen kept tension on the bow line and I held the stern line. After about 10 minutes we had dropped the 2 feet and the sizable gates opened in front of us, begging our departure. We had been through our first lock and, like a kid, I couldn’t have been more excited! Could we do it again, I thought! But we resumed our motoring of the final leg into Norfolk. This would be a big bridge navigating day, with 7 bridges needing our attention. And the freighters, tugs, barges, and patrol boats – my gosh, this was bringing back anxious memories of New York harbor! We were monitoring several channels on the VHF radio, and there was a near continual crackle of captains calling for bridge openings, bridge tenders calling other bridge tenders, tugs calling containerships for clearance, and Navy ships – man, the whole Navy must be docked here – announcing intentions to depart berths and their associated patrol boats in fast, black Zodiac-style craft ready to dissuade us from our course with their automatic weaponry. Help! Give me the peace of Buck Island, would ya! But we made it, and the gee-I’m-sure-glad-I-came dial was reading high for Grampa! Despite what you may think about military spending, the war in Iraq and other hot topics these days, it is darn impressive what this country has built in terms of a naval fighting force. Here are but a few of the sites we saw in the harbor.
With our early morning departure and easy 8 mile day, we were able to tie up at the city run Waterside Marina in downtown Norfolk by 10am and have the whole day to explore. This was a Sunday, and Karen and I joke about how all too often we walk ashore in a town with great sightseeing potential on Sunday’s, when everything is shuttered, but we found the nearby national maritime museum, dubbed ‘Nauticus’, open and the adjoining USS Wisconsin battleship ready for wide eyed tourists like ourselves to explore. Here’s yours truly standing next to one of three triple 16″ gun turrets, each designed to fire a 2700lb projectile at a target up to 23 miles away. Come on, you can be the biggest tree hugger around, but those are some pretty amazing, testosterone-generating stats, wouldn’t you agree! OK, you tree huggers will want to ignore the fact that those are teak wood decks – the ship required the clearing of 4 acres of the hardwood!
The city of Norfolk puts on a summer concert series and finally we were in the right place on the right day of week – it was a Sunday concert series! A local artist named Lewis McGehee put on a show that would sooth even the most stressed of the modern day’s soul. It turns out that this guy was the father of two talented daughters, both of whom joined him on the stage, one as the vocalist, the other on the keyboard, for a rendition of the classic Rolling Stone song ‘Wild Horses’. Put the kids to bed or close the office door, grab a glass of wine and relax for a moment – this will take care of what ales you!
Well, all good things must come to an end, and Grampa Bill, after spending nearly the whole vacation on the foredeck snapping pictures and buying more disposable cameras (OK, I’m exaggerating just a tad)…
… had to depart us and so we bid him adieu at the docks in Hampton, VA.
As we set foot ashore, we closed the loop on what we had started on November 8th — 8 months ago — when we joined up with the Carib1500 to Tortola. How different it was to be back in Hampton now. Gone were the bitter cold days of November, replaced by 90 degrees and humidity. Gone too were the pre-departure jitters of a pending 12 day ocean passage. We had made it down and back, each retaining all ten of our fingers and toes, and shared some lasting memories with countless kind souls.
Bill left to spend time with family in his hometown roots of upstate New York. Meanwhile, we laid low in Hampton, reprovisioned, made repairs and saw sights we had missed back in the hectic November days. Lacking a valid drivers license to rent a car (mine expired months ago), Zack and I navigated the local Hampton Roads Transit system bus network and after 3 buses and 3 hours, we made it to Virginia Beach. Most tourists there were trekking to the expansive beach in what I was told is the nation’s largest beach resort city. Yet, we came to see the Naval Air Station Oceana, the Navy’s largest air base, a statistic easily confirmed by the continual screeching of F/A-18 jets across the sky over our heads. We made it in the nick of time, buying the last two tickets on the tour bus. Not since I was Zack’s age, growing up in the flight pattern of Miramar Naval Air Station outside San Diego had I seen so many jets and their support personnel. When squadrons are coming home from a deployment, they fly off the carrier as it approaches the coastline and they land at Naval Air Station Oceana for maintenance and repair. Then back they go, as the carrier heads out the harbor again. Each one of these jets, at $40 million a piece, comes with a mind boggling array of hangers, fuel depots, flight simulator buildings and administrative offices. Too, there’s the housing for officers, enlisted personnel, and their families. I’m not sure if it is the Reagan/Bush/Bush era or not, but all these folks had some mighty fine perks. In our short tour, we saw horse paddocks, golf courses, movie theaters, the largest commissary imaginable (like a suburban mall), two banks, a plethora of playgrounds and a sizable pool complete with multiple waterpark-comparable slides. I’d say the happy index must be reading high at this installation! The tour included lunch at the officer’s club, which, when asked, Zack said was the tour highlight!
The buffet lunch was a delight, but equally intriguing was a memorial to naval aviation that the Association for Naval Aviators had sited, or I should say shoehorned, in between the lineup of resort hotels on the beachfront. It included a tribute to Eugene Lily, who in 1910, just 7 years after the Wright Brother’s first flight, successfully flew a plane off the deck of a ship at sea and thus started the age of naval aviation. Now, any guesses on what those things are that are wrapped around his chest for flotation? Perhaps he took a hint from the lessons of the Wright Brothers and their bicycle shop business – they are bicycle inner tubes!
We ended our visit to the Norfolk area with a diversionary trip up to Williamsburg to spend a day at Busch Gardens. The kids had seen a brochure for the amusement park several weeks ago in NC and, seeing that the trip is close to an end, we felt a little amusing was in order! Our family is a big fan of DisneyWorld so it was no surprise that everyone was up early on Saturday morning and off to the park for the 10am opening – we were going to get our money’s worth on this one! Busch Gardens is a bit smaller than DisneyWorld, but they made judicious use of space, cramming roller coaster rides in and around each other in what can be mistaken as a tangled mess. This picture pretty well sums up the scene – coasters and crowds – as we looked on from the gondola ride.
The park was quite proud of their newest ride that had just opened in the spring, Griffon. Now, Busch Gardens has an amazing array of rides – all a bit different and cool and heart-poundingly fun – but this Griffon ride was something truly over the top. You stop on to a platform that is 3 rows of 10 seats each. After locking yourself in like you are an astronaut on the launch pad, the floor drops away and your feet dangle as the car is carried rapidly up on a monorail to a plateau far above the other rides. To build up the suspense, the car stops on the precipice of a 200 foot completely vertical drop, with the front row of passengers hanging over the edge! 5 seconds later, it “let’s go” and away you plunge.
We had a hard time tearing the kids away from the many rides, but by late afternoon, Karen and I were in need of a little ‘chill time’! Busch Gardens was kicking off their summer concert series, starting with Dennis DeYoung playing some songs from when he was part of Styx. He regaled the audience with tid bits of his time with Styx and how he had just celebrated his 38th anniversary with his wife (who was on stage as a backup vocalist). They had met at a high school dance in Chicago when he was 16 and married shortly afterwards. Many of the songs he wrote were for or about her, including this recognizable one, ‘Babe’.
By 10:30pm, at park closing, you would have seen a couple dreary-eyed boys and their delighted parents navigate out the exit gates and head home – this park was a hoot!
Well, that is it for this week. We will leave Hampton tomorrow to sail offshore as we hop our way up to New York City. We all can feel the clock ticking to the curtain drop on our year long adventure. We have made a reservation to be hauled out in Mattapoisett, MA, near Rhode Island, on August 8th, just 2 1/2 weeks away, so we are anxious to make the best of what remains. Last July 1st, the end of the trip seemed an eternity away. We had a world of adventure ahead of us, far more than we could imagine. Now, we are all caught with unexpected moments of reflection, stopping us in our haste and drawing us in to the sweet memory of what once was, and still can be, the colorful tapestry that is this voyage of discovery.