TWL: Log, ICW from Deale, MD to Myrtle Beach, SC
Rita and I are in our third season of cruising aboard Derreen, a Monk 36.
The first two seasons we were onboard for only 3 months each. This year we
have arranged things so that we are now full time cruisers.
The following is a log of our first trip on the ICW, our first trip out of
the Chesapeake Bay, that we sent to friends wanting to know how we were
doing. It might be of interest to those reading TrawlerWorld contemplating a
trip on the ICW.
Realizing that the TrawlerWorld conference is a public conference, I decided
to retain the personal reference to our 30 year old autistic son. I think it
is important for those wanting to go fulltime to realize that their are
agonizing, personal sacrifices that you and your family will have to make.
-- Jim
March 18 - 28, 2002, Shipwright Harbor Marina, Deale Maryland
Derreen is sitting on the "hard", where she has been all winter,
shrinkwrapped. Rita and I spent two nights at a motel before getting the
courage to move aboard. It's hard living on the hard, as Eileen's song goes.
No running water, no toilets (to speak of). Minimal electricity. Maryland is
having a cold spell, freezing overnight temperatures. We close off and sleep
in the V-Berth, a smaller volume where a single space heater can keep us
warm. Using the second space heater blows the 15 amp fuse that the boat is
plugged in to.
Provisioning and commisioning for the trip takes a week. The mechanic needs
to finish installing the bowthruster, a sideways propeller that will help
steer the boat in tight situations. The outside need scrubbing, the
shrinkwrap happened a month after the trees had a chance to dump their fall
foilage onto the decks. The dinghy needs inflated and put back together. Its
outboard engine serviced. The main engine and the generator need their fuel
filters changed, hydraulic fluid leaked from the steering system over the
winter through the bleeder valves and left a mess in the bilge, need to add
more fluid in order to get the uppermost helm to work. Water tank needs
filling, get a second anchor and rode, replace water impeller, load up on
food, drinking water, soft drinks and beer.
Is this fun or what?
Monday the 25th, the tractor crane comes and hauls Derreen off its supports
and places her into the water. The operator and I open all the hatches to
the bilge area. No water! I start the 6 cylinder diesel engine that hasn't
run since September. It's reluctant, but it starts. Then it dies. I start it
again and let it run for a half hour. Vital signs are good. oil 60 psi, temp
180 degrees, alternator voltage ZERO!?, RPM 600.
A loose wire fixes the voltage reading. This has happened before when the
autopilot was installed, and must have happened again when the controls for
the bowthruster were installed. I've learned two other trouble spots that
don't faze me anymore: crawling around the engine will disconnect a little
wire from the alternator that feeds the RPM-o-meter and makes it report 0,
the feedback arm on the rudder for the autopilot will come disconnected and
make the autopilot think the rudder is hard to port.
Now that we're in the water we have 30 amps of AC. We can turn on lights,
refrigerator and two of any of the following: space heater 1, space heater
2, microwave, battery charger and water heater. This reminds me of my rocket
scientist days when Roger Chaffee would recite off the electrical power
comsumption of the Apollo spacecraft.
March 29, Shipwright to Solomons Island, MD
All the Shipwright staff come down to the dock to see us off. Are they
wishing us Bon Voyage, or being entertained by our undocking skills? We
leave with no damage, not even to our pride. We figure by the end of the
trip to MB, SC, we will have regained our skills and then some. Unlike most
couples, Rita docks and undocks, I handle the lines. This plays into our
strengths better. I don't have the patience to abort a landing, I have the
brawn to handle the lines and anchor.
This is a trip we made several times last year, once with Jamie, once with
the Glennons. It all comes back, the power of Derreen pushing us along at 8
knots, the wind, the sun, the spray.
Marina or anchor out? The weather prediction is bad thunderstorms. Not
wanting to risk dragging anchor, we decide to check into a marina.
March 30 - 31, Solomons to Deltaville, VA.
Deltaville is on a peninsula. The north side has many marinas and no place
to anchor. The south side has places to anchor and only one marina. We
choose the south, and then start searching for the green and red day markers
that guide us in. The charts tell us that the channel is narrow and not too
deep. I hail the southside marina and ask for "local knowledge". He tells us
to follow the rules of the road (Red Right Returning) and we'll be OK.
We spot the entry gate (a pair of red and green) a half mile away, and Rita
makes a beeline towards it. About the time I double check the charts, the
depth alarm goes off telling us that we are in 6 feet of water, we draft 4,
then we slow way down. Panic, the bow has plowed into an underwater shoal.
Should we back out or power through? Of course you should never plow
through, but fortunately the bottom is muck and in seconds we are free again
and turn to port where the deeper water is.
Now we're lined up more properly with the red/green gate trying to spot the
remaining gates into the bay. They seem to direct us straight onto the front
porch of a house sitting near the beach before they take a sharp bend to the
left. We proceed in, very narrow channel, the turn is no more than 20 yards
from the shoreline.
This time we choose to anchor out. Nighttime is peaceful. Derreen gently
rocks on the water as the air and tidal currents swing her around the
anchor.
A steady rain develops overnight and we decide to spend another day, Easter
Sunday, at anchor in the same spot. Rita prepares us a full course Easter
dinner with ham. It amazes me what she can do in this limited galley, and
what food she has stored away under the settee.
April 1, Deltaville to Hampton, VA.
I start the engine, weigh the anchor, and within 200 yards, bam, the bow has
hit an underwater sand bank. As we were leaving we tried to avoid a shallow,
muddy shoal to the port side that we had discovered with the dinghy only to
discover this sandy starboard shoal. It is obvious by the sudden stop we
need to back up. Thank God the Chesapeake is mostly mud, occasionally sand,
and the rocks are rare. How do we get out of here? How did we get in here?
We spot a local crab boat, loaded down with its traps, pulling away from its
pier and signal to it that we will follow him out.
Hampton is separated from Norfolk, VA, by a stretch of water called Hampton
Roads. This water is very wide and very deep. A lot of Navy ships and large
commercial vessels pass through here. We are out there with the big boys.
They have the right of way. We are much slower than them.
This time we stay at a marina. A chance to have a real shower.
April 2, Hampton to the Dismal Swamp Visitor Center, NC.
As we cross Hampton Roads to enter Elizabeth River, we pass a large
commercial vessel at anchor. Twenty minutes later we hear its captain
hailing the Coast Guard asking permission to exercise a routine drill where
it lowers its life rafts, runs them about the bay, and then secures them.
Apparently by regulation this is a routine drill that they have to do
periodically. But do we detect a Middle-eastern accent? Rita and I develop
this far out conspiracy theory that the life rafts, loaded down with
explosives and suicide drivers, will be attacking the Norfolk Naval Base. We
keep moving away from the scene, and keep an ear to the radio.
Downtown Norfolk on the Elizabeth River and we are overtaking two big
tugboats in line pushing barges in front of us. We start to pass on their
port side, and discover that all of us are going under a bridge and a third
barge is coming towards us. We make it in front of the two barges and let
the third figure out how it is going to avoid us and them. As we leave the
barges in our dust, we notice that we are approaching another bridge that
isn't in the charts. Where are we? I run down to the laptop that has a GPS
hooked to it and is running a navigational program, a chartplotter.
We are going up the wrong river! As we passed the barges, we missed a turn
to starboard. We pull to the side of the channel, wait for the amused barges
to pass by, and head for their wake and the right river.
The entrance for the Dismal Swamp Canal is about 15 miles upriver from
Norfolk. It had reopened only a few days ago. The canal was built in the
early 1800's. Occasionally you can spot one of the remaining original mile
markers, a stone column about 4 foot high with a number carved into it. It
is no longer used commercially, and not many recreational boaters choose
this route over the faster Virginia Cut route. It has two locks that open
only 4 times a day, one to lift you up 8 feet to the level of the swamp, one
to drop you back down to near sea-level. It is nearly impossible to make
both locks in one day, which means you spend a night in the swamp.
We spent ours tied up to the free dock at the Visitor Center. Bird songs and
frog belches all night long.
April 3, Visitor Center to Elizabeth City, NC.
Strange birds in the Swamp. One is either a Turkey Vulture or a Buzzard
Duck, our names. At first we thought it was a turkey walking into the water,
but then we noticed its webbed feet. Its face had lumpy red skin. I've never
seen a bird so ugly. Another, blue gray egret-like was dumb. As we would
approach one, it would start squealing and flying away from us only to land
100 yards ahead and repeat the cycle.
Elizabeth City is the last stop before entering the Albemarle Sound. The
weather was turning bad again and we decided to pull into a marina. Pelican
Marina is relatively inexpensive $0.75/ft per night, compared to $1.25/ft at
most places. It has the cleanest, nicest showers and laundry facilities of
any marina we've stayed at. But it is exposed. That night we had a major
thunderstorm with winds that partially dismantled the bimini top (no
permanent damage), lightning bolts that sizzled into the river next to us.
We just turned out the lights and waited it out.
Elizabeth City is known by boaters for its Rose Buddies and their founder
Fred Fearing. If you stay at the free city docks, you will be serenaded by
the Rose Buddies, offered a free rose, wine and cheese. Except that the
buddies have pretty much died out. Fred, in his late 80's still carries on
the tradition. We found him mid afternoon in an antique store on a side
street. We spent two hours with him, learning about Elizabeth City, and
about Fred himself.
April 4 - 5, Elizabeth City, NC
Always wait until the weather is right before crossing Albemarle Sound, is
the common warning. We waited in Elizabeth City.
April 4th is the date that Jamie was to finally see a urologist. A month
overdue. His idiot careprovider at Cheyenne Village had screwed up taking
him to two earlier visits to the doctor. On the second occasion, she called
and started with, "Are you ready to hear something really funny?..." This
time she starts with, "I've got good news and bad news." Too disgusted to
listen, I hand the phone to Rita.
The doctor has discovered that Jamie's uretha is nearly blocked. For him to
urinate he must have a full bladder, and then it is uncontrolled.
Catheterization in the office was impossible. He needs emergency surgery,
scheduled for the next day, to install a pair of catheters and a collection
bag. No way can we get back in time. Rita calls our friends, Joyce, Tammy
and Frank. They take our place and help Jamie into surgery and wait for him
to come out. Tammy takes Jamie home for 4 days of post-op recovery. There is
no way we can adequately repay this favor.
We decide to rush on to Myrtle Beach, where Rita can fly back to Colorado
Springs to be with Jamie when the tubes come out. We check with Tammy and
Joyce several times to see how Jamie is doing.
April 6, Elizabeth City to Belhaven, NC
Albemarle Sound was a piece of cake. We passed the "Happy face" tugboat
headed north. There's a kids show on TV based on it. We stay at the River
Forest Marina and visit with another couple from Dekalb, IL, who are
cruising on an Albin 36, a boat similar to ours.
We check with Tammy, and talk with Jamie. Considering his new equipment and
procedure, everyone is handling this well.
April 7, Belhavn to Morehead City, NC
We never thought the ICW would be so beautiful. I expected a long series of
narrow waterways that passed through the backyards and clotheslines of
thousands of homes. Instead 90% of the trip is pure wilderness. Birds of all
colors and types. The color of the water gradually lightens as we leave the
inland waterways and we near the Atlantic coast.
We stay at the Spooners Creek Yacht Harbor and spend a delightful evening
with "Tom Smith", a slip neighbor, who spent 20 years with the Department of
State. His language is colorful, his stories are entertaining.
April 8, Morehead City to Wrightsville Beach, NC
Most of the bridges on this trip have had a clearance of 65 feet, the
current standard for new bridges being built over the ICW and other major
waterways. Derreen has a stated "air draft" of 17' 11". We've never measured
it, we're not sure. We have had to ask several bridge tenders of older
bridges to open their bridge so we can pass through.
We are now approaching the Figure 8 Island Swing bridge with a reported
clearance of 20 feet. We hail the tender and find that because of the water
level it has a clearance of 23 feet. We decide with a 5 foot margin to go
for it. As we pass under, I estimate that we had four feet to spare, a 19
foot air draft.
The next bridge at Wrightsville Beach has a reported clearance of 20 feet.
We hail its tender and he reports that he only has 18 feet at this time. We
decide that further calibration is not necessary and wait for the next
scheduled opening on the half hour.
April 9, Wrightsville Beach to Barefoot Landing, Myrtle Beach, SC.
Dolphins in the ICW! Good fortune, and we find that Jamie is doing quite
well in his recovery. There are several direct openings to the ocean that
small boats can navigate. The Dolphins must use these channels.
Part of the ICW crosses and follows the Cape Fear River. This is a wide,
nasty body of water with strong tidal currents. This does not look like a
passage to make on a bad day. A Coast Guard inflatable passes us twice. We
must have passed any visual inspection that they do.
The Sunset Beach bridge is the only pontoon bridge on the East coast. The
other bridges that open are either bascule, (open vertically), or swing
(rotate around a pivot point). This bridge floats away from itself. The
operator must separate the floating part from the two fixed ends. He then
uses a cable to pull the floating part away, and I guess the same cable to
put the bridge back together. We didn't stick around to see.
The last part of the ICW to be completed is a stretch called the "rockpile"
between Little River, SC, and Barefoot Landing. the engineers had to blast
away rock so that traffic could pass through. Some clever fellow has posted
signs offering his propeller and shaft repair sevices. At low tide we can
see some monstrous rocks at the edge of the waterway. We keep our eyes open
for an oncoming barge. Until then we want the center of the channel.
We arrive safely at Barefoot Landing. We made it!
Jim & Rita Ague
M/V Derreen, Monk 36
----- Original Message -----
From: "James Ague" jim.ague@worldnet.att.net
Strange birds in the Swamp. One is either a Turkey Vulture or a Buzzard
Duck, our names. At first we thought it was a turkey walking into the
water,
but then we noticed its webbed feet. Its face had lumpy red skin. I've
never
seen a bird so ugly.
Hi Jim,
That sounds like a Muscovy drake and I agree that it's got to be one of the
ugliest birds around. The females are quite a bit smaller and somewhat more
attractive. They might not show up in a field guide because it's a domestic
species. We used to have a few of them, ostensibly for slug control.
Unfortunately for us our slugs were too big and numerous to be controlled by
a few ducks. Unfortunately for the ducks there was a Great Horned Owl that
included our property in its territory. One by one our flock was reduced to
zero; we tried to think of it as a beautification project. Here's what my
dictionary has to say about them:
Muscovy duck noun
A greenish-black, gooselike duck (Cairina moschata), having heavy red
wattles and found wild from Mexico to northern Argentina but widely
domesticated around the world for its succulent flesh. Also called musk
duck.
The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition
copyright 1992 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Electronic version licensed
from InfoSoft International, Inc. All rights reserved.
Thanks for a great report! I'll be looking forward to future installments.
Vicariously yours,
Alex