Cape Lookout, North Carolina

(No wifi, weak cell signal, so no pictures for a while.)

On Friday we bade farewell to Oriental, had a delightful short sail across the mouth of the Neuse River and headed to a quiet anchorage at Cedar Creek. The wind was in the low teens and we had plenty of time because the anchorage was less than 10 miles from town. So under sail we tacked across the river back onto the ICW where it follows a narrower, river-like channel. The wind dropped but stayed steady enough for us to sail all the way to the little creek where we anchored.

The sail was one of those perfect afternoons where the destination arrives before the wind dies or the sailing becomes a chore. We worked our way into the little side creek and dropped anchor in about 7 feet of dark brown water. Later in the evening another sailboat anchored for the night.

We were treated to the drama of thunderstorms on and off all night. Lots of lightning and distant thunder, but no big winds, no big rains, no drama. After dark we watched a tug and barge make their way past our anchorage, headed for Beaufort. Glad we were not on the water in the dark with that scary rig.

Sunday morning we got up earlier than we have in a long time so we could catch the tide for our 26 mile run down the ICW, through Beaufort, then out into the ocean (!) and up to Cape Lookout. Didn’t really figure the tide right. Somehow we caught a great ebb tide and were zipping along at 6 knots as we motored down the canal. But when we got to the Beaufort end of things it turned into a flood tide and really slowed us down. Yet just an hour or two later when we were flying along under sail towards the Cape, we were again on an ebb tide. Peculiar.

Sunday was another day when the destination arrived well before we wanted to stop sailing. After overhearing some sailors chattering on the VHF about the big wind as they sailed up to Cape Lookout about an hour ahead of us, we figured the wind on the outside was up, so we hoisted the mainsail with a double reef. (Side note: the jiffy-reefing system I’ve been planning since the winter utterly failed. Somehow after the boom was reinstalled post-hurricane, things have not been working properly with the reefing. It led to difficulty hoisting the mainsail, strong words among the crew, and frustration for the chief engineer aboard. Alas.

Out on the ocean it turned out the wind was a perfect 16 knots or so. We (ultimately) hoisted the whole mainsail and unfurled all of the jib and were rewarded with a sparkling ride for the 7 miles or so before getting to the anchorage in the bight at Cape Lookout. Saw dolphins for the first time in weeks.

Dropped anchor onto a sandy bottom in blue-green water for the first time since Virginia. (Didn’t check the tide height ahead of time, so the 9’ of water rapidly decreased to 7’ and headed for about 3.5’ as Moss and I got in the dinghy with our lead line to find a spot deep enough that we wouldn’t be on the bottom at low tide.) Found eleven feet, moved Cupcake and that was that. 

After that we re-anchored and dinghied the half mile over to the lighthouse to check things out. On the way to the lighthouse we crossed a shoal with about 2’ of water. Moss wanted desperately to swim, so we stopped and she hopped out. And promptly lost her green Croc. After a flash of panic (with only one shoe, she would need to become a peg leg, we think) we spotted her Croc and reinstalled it on her foot.

The lighthouse at Cape Lookout is one of those beautiful black and white jobs that are common on the Carolina coast. (In New England our beacons are much less showy – I almost said “less flashy” but that would be inaccurate.) I always attributed the spirals and stripes and diamonds that are common on the lighthouses down here to some southern immodesty. But we learned that this lighthouse, at least, uses its diamond pattern to provide additional information to mariners: if you see black diamonds, you are headed north/south. If you see white ones you are headed east/west. And with the relatively featureless coastline (no hills to speak of) the spirals or stripes or whatever let you know where you are. Clever.

Not so clever, perhaps, were the Carolinians who built the first iteration of the lighthouse. It was too short to be seen from far enough out to sea to warn sailors off the shoals. Seems like a basic trigonometry problem that should have been worked out well before construction began. Maybe the builders used all their energies coming up with the black and white pattern, leaving nothing for mathematics. The art teacher aboard does not like the implications.

Immediately after we were secure at anchor, three of our neighbors in the anchorage came over by dinghy. We assumed they were going to tell us what we already knew, that we were in too-shallow water. But instead they invited us to a beach bonfire in the evening. Turns out about eight of the boats here were out of the Oriental area and meet up annually for a dinner and fire. Very welcoming. We did not make it to the beach because by the time we were back aboard from visiting the lighthouse, the ocean side of the cape, another swim, we were all a little cold, tired, and not too interested in another long wet dinghy ride after dark. (Yes, you read that right – cold. Temperatures were in the frigid high 70s – Moss got the shivers after her swim. She is currently wearing a long sleeve shirt with a picture of a mug of hot cocoa on it, and polar fleece pajama bottoms. Winter is coming.)

Today is being passed reading, learning, fixing things, and preparing for our 130 mile overnight run offshore tomorrow. Because the wind looks ideal, we will leave here tomorrow in the mid-morning and head to the Little River Inlet in South Carolina. It’s just up the coast from Myrtle Beach. 

This morning when I went up on deck to ensure Cupcake was more or less where we parked her the day before, I was treated to the sight of a pod of dolphins hunting for fish. It is wonderful being back in clean water again. There was no sign of the brown murk evident in that satellite photo from September 19, thank goodness. (Although I have no doubt the harm to the ecosystem did not just wash away.)

Ellen and Moss baked brownies. (The crew-minus-Ellen (who is off sugar because of a control issue) has had a bit of The Shugs lately. Craving chocolate and ice cream and whipped cream and cookies and brownies and sweet tea…mmmm. Today it was finally cool enough to justify running the oven for snackery.) Yesterday we mentioned to the neighbors that we were looking for somewhere we could get ice cream (a curious goal here at the end of the earth, surrounded by nothing much more than dunes). About 30 minutes later their friends dinghied over with three freeze-pops. That’s southern hospitality.

Apology section: I apologize to our Canadian foes* if I offended them in an earlier post. The point was not to say that all Canadians are rude and entitled. Just the ones on the boat docked next to us in Oriental. Heck, some of my best friends are Canadians. Nobody is less anti-Canadian than I am. Trust me.

*Since the groper** in the Whitehouse decided that the Europeans are our foes, I assume the same logic applies to Canadians.

**That’s a Canadian cousin’s term. Her words, not mine.***

***Sean Spicer’s words. Not mine.

On the hook

Here’s a quick one. The Oriental town dock was hotter, noisier, wind-lessier, fish-stinkier, and shrimp-boatier than we really wanted. Ellen, already worked up about soon-to-be-hurricane Leslie, had a rough night and was awakened by the shrimp boat crews at around 6am.

Also a Beneteau 39 came in to the dock this afternoon. The captain asked if we would be leaving soon because their buddy boat was coming in. I asked when they needed the dock, because we were considering moving to the anchorage. They said “immediately.” When I told them we were likely to leave in an hour or so we got a grumpy, Gallic look. (They were Canadians from Montreal.) We took our time heading out. Ellen points out that cleaning the composting head is not a job to be rushed. Also, a merci would have been nice.

The neighbors, Ellen’s early start to the day, and the fact that it is still incredibly hot and humid down here, led us to decide that after walking around town and then getting some boat chores completed, it did make sense to move about a tenth of a mile out to the anchorage. Now we have less shrimp stink, fewer Canadians (zero), and more breeze.

I installed the bilge blower fan (tomorrow we will see how it does at keeping the engine heat out of the boat) and a fourth cabin fan. 

It. Is. So. Hot.

By the weekend we hope to be somewhere we can swim so the hot won’t be as much of an issue. It is still so hot. So hot. So. HOT.

However, we are finally back at anchor and that’s a treat.

Moss is back in her favorite spot.

Sunset over Oriental.

Bureau of Waits and Measures

As grateful as we are to have been kept safe at the marina in New Bern, we nevertheless were very eager to get back out on the water. Our days at the marina were been fairly productive and we got to the tasks that would otherwise have stayed low on the to do list.

Ellen modified the mainsail cover so the spinnaker bail can stick out even when the cover is zipped. (Landlubbers: sailors who fly true spinnakers use the bail, a stainless steel ring permanently fixed to the mast, to attach a spinnaker pole to the spinnaker sail because spinnakers need a pole to act kind of like a boom. We do not fly a spinnaker because downwind we fly our asymmetrical sail which does not require a pole.* (We actually sold the pole this spring…it’s a 14’ aluminum tube that telescopes to around 20’ long. Takes up tons of space on the deck and is a great object on which to stub a toe.)) We use the bail on the mast as an attachment point for our laundry line which also serves as an anti-foul line – keeps the multitude of lines from snagging on the hatch or on Mr. Flowerpot when we are underway.

Our little short wave buddy.

Yesterday I started messing with the short wave radio. We are not really in a place where we need the weather broadcasts yet, but it makes sense to re-familiarize ourselves with the care and feeding of the radio. So this morning I got up at 6:30 to catch the weather and the cruise net checkins. We picked up some chatter from at least as far away as Florida.

What we learned, aside from the welcome news that this week’s crop of Atlantic storms will not be impacting the East Coast in a meaningful way, is that the ICW is closed for much of northern South Carolina. We also learned that winds predicted for Monday and Tuesday look promising for the overnight sail south.

So our plan to sail offshore has become a necessity. We are glad it was our choice first and only became a requirement after we committed. I’m guessing there are a lot of snowbirds up in New England and the Chesapeake and Norfolk who are panicking. Lots of those guys really do not like to venture out into the ocean.

It remains to be seen if we will get the swimming we crave at Cape Lookout. Our pal Matthew told us what he read about the nastiness that has been washing out to sea as the floodwaters make their way down the rivers and out into the Atlantic. Then we saw this beautiful/horrifying satellite photo from September 19.  

We are pinning our hopes for a cool cabin on this little devil.

Our departure from New Bern today was dependent on another UPS delivery. We decided to place an order for two new cabin fans and a bilge blower. When we run the engine for longer than 15 minutes or so, the Westerbeke puts an incredible amount of heat into the cabin. The last thing we need is more heat around here, so the bilge blower will suck all the engine heat out and exhaust it through a vent at the stern. There was a blower in the bilge when we bought the boat, but it never worked well because its bearings were shot. So all the ducting and wiring is in place and the installation should be a piece of cake. 

UPS made the delivery before 12:30 so we filled up the water tanks and headed down to Oriental this afternoon. We are now tied up at the Oriental Town Dock. Once again, if you are reading this between September 26 and September 28 you can see Cupcake at the dock. https://towndock.net/harborcam 

At sea once again (ok, just the Neuse River, but still…)

While that page is loading for you let me explain the title of today’s post. “Waits” because we have been waiting for storms to pass, waiting for deliveries to arrive, waiting to get back on the move. Northwest Creek Marina is a pleasant place, but it’s not near anything. As soon as we got to Oriental, we went for a walk in town. (And this town got beat up by Florence. There’s a smell throughout town that’s a mixture of wet insulation and shrimp boat. It’s not offensive or oppressive, but I will forever associate this pre-mildew odor with hurricanes.)

The “Measures” part of the title has to do with what I learned when I filled the water tanks this morning. We already knew that our stern and our bow tanks are about the same size because we regularly pump the full stern tank forward to the empty bow tank. (Remember that the water maker only fills the stern tank, we generally draw water from the bow tank. When the bow tank is empty we transfer water from stern to bow and then fill the stern tank using the water maker.)

Today was the first time the stern tank was empty and I had to fill it with jerry cans instead of directly from a hose. (The marina only had water available at A and B docks, too far for our hose to reach. So I trundled jug after jug to the boat and filled the tanks that way.) Figured that it would make sense to mark on my tank gauge where the water level was at 15, 25, 35, 45 gallons since I knew how much I was putting in.

To my astonishment, although Pearson advertised the boat as holding 100 gallons of fresh water, the stern tank was overflowing at just under 35 gallons! Our 110 gallon capacity (counting both tanks and the two jerry cans we keep full on deck) just shrank to less than 80 gallons. This piece of information changes our water consumption not one bit. But really, how does a manufacturer make a 30 gallon mistake? Tomorrow we are measuring the boat to make sure she really is 36’ long.

More sailboat math: If a boat that travels at an average speed of 5 knots must travel 20 miles to reach its destination in Oriental and prefers to tied up to the dock by 5pm, what time is the latest she can depart the dock in New Bern?

*The asymmetrical sail is Ellen’s favorite piece of sailing equipment. We fly it when winds are below about 15 knots and we are heading more or less downwind. The sail is beautiful, the boat behaves predictably and calmly and smoothly with it up. Generally if the asymmetrical is flying, we are having a very relaxed time and are pretty proud of our saltiness. 

Alternatively, downwind sailing without the asymmetrical is slow and sloppy and frustrating. Sailing with a true spinnaker is a frustrating, hands-on, high-stress proposition. A spinnaker may be faster than the asymmetrical, but the tradeoff is not worth it to us.

Nothing goes to waste on Cupcake. A cooler full of ice water invited some dunking…

some dumping…

and some dripping.

Also: sailboat gear tidbit. I got two of these fantastic little siphons for maybe ten bucks apiece. We use one for fresh water, the other for diesel and other petroleum products. They aren’t much more than a tube connected to a brass fitting with a marble inside. Put the marble end in the jug of liquid, shake the tube up and down until there’s fluid in the tube, and you’ve got a siphon.

Years of getting a mouthful of gasoline every time I tried to siphon gas into one empty old car or another and all I needed was one of these marvels. Go get two. They are excellent.

Eyes on the Atlantic Basin

Cupcake and crew are still hanging out at Northwest Creek Marina in New Bern. Part of the reason we are not back out on the water moving south is that we were waiting for a delivery of boat stuff. That delivery arrived on Friday and we got the 150’ of line we need to replace the dock lines which were worn out by the storm.

The repeated yanking seems to have heated the lines to the point that they are pretty stiff…an indication that they heated up and started melting perhaps. In any event, new lines seems like cheap insurance.

This morning I had the brainstorm to mark the different length dock lines with different color whipping on the ends (for the landlubbers, whipping is a waxed twine used to keep the ends of the lines from fraying and unravelling). I figure I will use black whipping for the ends of the bow and stern lines, and use white whipping for the ends of longer spring lines. Genius.

A few years ago Ellen and I decided that as far as dock lines go, fancy braided line with spliced loops on the ends were less useful than standard-issue three-strand anchor line. Braided line catches on splintery docks easier, it’s more expensive, it just seems less salty and utilitarian. We also realized that lines without spliced loops are more useful because we can always tie a loop when we need one (landlubbers: learn to tie a bowline, it’s the most useful knot).

Another reason we are still in the marina is that there is a lot of storm debris in the waterways and we don’t need to rush out onto the Neuse River after surviving the storm, just to clonk into some log or dock or submerged boat or floating pig carcass.

Yet another reason we are in no hurry to leave is that the storms in the Atlantic Basin are not going away. There is Kirk, there is Leslie, there is “a broad area of low pressure located between Bermuda and the Bahamas,” there is the remnants of tropical depression Eleven. Plenty of reason to wait and see. Check out “https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/gtwo.php” to see how I start my day and end my day.

And a final reason we are delaying our departure is that we have met some really nice people at the marina and are in no great hurry to leave.

Our daughter has become a fantastic helper. She is also getting long and lean.

So what are we doing with ourselves? Sweating, primarily. Every day the forecast promises temperatures in the mid-80s and every day the temperatures rise to the high 80s or low 90s. Fortunately the nights have been cool - in the high 60s so the boat cools down and the sleeping is pleasant.

It was odd, with Ellen stitching the sail and Moss washing the laundry, I had nothing to do.

Laundry day.

And doing projects and maintenance. Ellen stitched up a torn reef point in the mainsail. Moss did a huge bunch of laundry (in a dock cart). I changed the transmission fluid, changed the raw water impeller, cleaned the instrument panel, whipped the line, rebuilt another winch, bleached the water tanks, organized the big storage locker, and so on.

Moss finished her first math unit and took an assessment test. Killed it. Smart kid, talented teachers. As a reward, we all went dumpster diving. Lots of interesting storm detritus out on the curb near the rec center and the marina.

And every evening we take delightful cold showers in the still-without-power marina bathrooms. It’s fun, it’s definitely part of the adventure, and it cools us right down.

Had a bit of a scare the other day when the fan in the v-berth stopped working. Panicked, then realized it had overheated because its cooling vents got blocked by some clothing we had jammed behind the fan to keep it from driving us crazy with its vibration. I tightened the screws attaching the fan to the boat, let the thing cool down, and now it is working fine and not making noise. Success.

The plans for the future are to head out on Tuesday or Wednesday and spend a day or two in Oriental. Then spend a day or two anchored out in a nearby creek. Then spend a day or three anchored at Cape Lookout waiting for favorable weather for an overnight sail down to Cape Fear (great name) or Little River.

Generally speaking we have not always enjoyed overnight sails. But we are going at it with a different attitude this time because it will allow us to stay relaxing at anchor for considerably longer, waiting for favorable winds instead of motoring motoring motoring down the ICW every day. A 120 mile passage can save us three or four days of driving down the ICW worrying about shallows, cursing the wakes of big powerboats, watching out for barges and buoys and logs and shifting shoals and so on.

If we enjoy the overnight, it will empower us to do more of them. And more overnight offshore sails will free up our schedule immeasurably. Also, it gets us back out on the big ocean in the clean water we love so much.

A few days ago we took a dinghy ride up a nearby creek to see how the boats up there did during the storm. Many did not do well at all. New Bern got pretty torn up. The nearest grocery store is still closed. The marina still has no power or internet (but the water is now potable). To our great dismay (well…) the New Bern synagogue cancelled Yom Kippur services because of the hurricane.

We’ve been reading the Oriental, NC website (check out towndock.net it’s very funny) and for a town that got whacked pretty hard, they seem to have a great attitude and are putting things back together well. We enjoyed our stay there earlier this month and are looking forward to seeing Oriental again.

Took a dinghy ride up a nearby creek. Many boats did well, but the loss of one line (in this case a stern line) and the boat ends up in a very unfortunate place.

It appears that whether a boat survived unscathed or not depended as much on luck as on preparation. Boy, were we lucky.

This is a 40+’ catamaran parked in someone’s yard. The storm surge came up so high the cat tore loose from wherever it was docked and then floated (more or less gently) into someone else’s yard.

We assume this is the home of New Bern residents celebrating Rosh Hashana.

An optimist would say this boat is half floating.

Moss went up the mast twice to do some rigging work. She is a handy kid to have on board: light enough that she is easy to winch up the mast, better than a monkey because she more or less understands English and can follow directions.

This is the view from about 30’ up (Moss was disinclined to go to the top of the mast).

Safe and sound in New Bern

On Tuesday, the drive from DC back to the marina in New Bern was, thankfully, uneventful. It rained most of the way down I-95, but the rain stopped before we got to the marina. Highway 95 was closed, but not until south of where we turned off. None of the secondary roads we needed were closed, and it wasn’t until about 30 miles from the marina that we started seeing evidence of storm damage – trees down, yards that looked like ponds, that sort of thing.

The only water we saw on roadways was about half a mile from the marina, and even that was just a little section less than 6” deep – easily forded by the Chevy.

Back at Northwest Creek Marina the scene was more dire. The water level during the storm rose to above 6’ in the marina buildings. That’s probably 9 or 10’ at the docks. So all the buildings and pools flooded, many of the cars flooded, all of the machinery like ice machines, washing machines, fuel pumps were destroyed. There is no electricity, wifi, or potable water at the marina and it’s not expected to be restored for weeks or months.

Dozens of boats were utterly destroyed – they were thrown about, landing on top of one another, on top of the docks, upside down in the water. Utter chaos on D-dock. 

Cupcake is just fine. Not a scratch. Not a leak. One of our stern lines chafed through (but we doubled all the lines in case one failed), another line tore the cleat out of the dock (and appears to have torn the little finger-pier off the main dock too). That’s it.

On Tuesday, once we got over our amazement at our good fortune, we set to work reinstalling the sun canvas, the solar panels, the boom. Got everything pretty much back in place in about an hour and a half. Down below, Cupcake was not the wet, moldy mess we anticipated. There was water in the bilge, but not more than I could dry out with a sponge (wasn’t enough for the bilge pumps to move). Maybe a gallon and a half in total (and some of that was beer – Budweiser cans will corrode through in the bilge, it appears). It’s not clear if there ever was enough water to activate the pumps. Remarkable. This boat is lucky, stout, and dry. 

Today we went grocery shopping to replace the perishables we brought to DC for Simon. While Ellen returned the rental car, Moss went up the mast (in a safety harness or course) to rig the lines we took down for the storm. Then we did a little boat school. Tomorrow we will bend on the sails (that means install the sails, you landlubbers) do some more boat school, move the boat to the next slip over because that one hasn’t been beaten up like ours, and maybe get the dinghy from the storage unit.

Karen and Paul, the friendly neighbors on the next dock over, stored Mr. Flowerpot and the outboard at their storage unit. Paul is a little upset about that deal because now he wants a dinghy just like ours (we sang Mr. F’s praises: she is a great little boat). Karen and Paul put all their stored gear in their dinghy and our dinghy. That way, when the storage unit flooded everything floated and was fine.

So things with Cupcake and crew are returning to normal. We will probably stay at the marina through the weekend. Just placed an order for some boat gear including 150’ of dock line because even the good lines are showing their age. Once that delivery arrives, we will head back down the river. We want to take some time to visit Oriental a little longer than before. We also want to get out to the barrier islands to see what they are like and to get back in to water where we can swim.

Albino squirrel we spotted in DC.

Moss is appreciating the Baselitz upside-down paintings we enjoyed.

Ellen is about to return the rental car. Good riddance (to the car, not the girl.)

The kids and George.

Carnage photo 1.

Carnage photo 2.

Carnage photo 3. This is the fuel dock. It’s going to be closed for a while.

Carnage photo 4. This is D-dock. Thank goodness we were put on C-dock.

And this is the view we enjoyed as I typed this post. Idyllic. (Also hot, of course.)

Air & Space & Other Fun

D-dock carnage.

This morning we got another Cupcake scare when we found this picture of severely damaged boats on D-dock at our marina. We are at C-dock and our alphabet skills tell us that we are just one dock away from this chaos. Didn’t know what happened overnight, but got nervous all over again.

Best picture we’ve got of Cupcake.

After a few hours, our friends Karen and Paul sent this photo showing Cupcake safe and sound. She looks lonely and bare, stained from the ICW water, but the photo is one of the most beautiful shots of the boat we have ever seen because we at last know for certain she is ok. Now we are done worrying about Cupcake’s safety at the marina and will enjoy our remaining time in DC with Simon and the museums. (Simon and the Museums is not a particularly good name for a rock and roll band).

The plan is to check out of our hotel bright and early on Monday, stop at a West Marine to purchase a new VHF handheld radio to replace the failing VHF we have owned since 2001 and pick up a few hundred feet of line to replace our stressed dock lines. We will also load up on groceries to replace all the perishables we donated to Simon, then head down to New Bern to start putting Cupcake to rights.

Our thought is that the dock lines we used to secure Cupcake were old to begin with, and the repeated shock loading from the storm probably rendered them unreliable. Certainly wouldn’t want to trust them in another storm (which we will try to do a better job avoiding).

Last night we enjoyed the particular treat of eating dinner at Simon’s place. He and his roommate Ethan cooked the meal for us. Cauliflower, pasta and sauce, good company. It is such a pleasure to see Simon in his element, happy and thriving, surrounded by intelligent, interesting people.

Today we woke up late (enjoying sleeping in a normal rectangular bed) had big sandwiches for breakfast, then headed to the National Mall. Moss completed the exploration program at the Air & Space Museum and earned a badge. Now she wants to be an astronaut for Halloween.

Shocking revelations about Amelia Earhart. Moss was stunned to learn from the audio tour that Earhart never returned from the Pacific.

Then we met up with Simon at the National Portrait Gallery and checked out the presidential portraits (and a whole lot of other excellent art).

Simon and Barack. We are big fans of each.

After a delicious dinner at a ramen house we are now home watching Star Wars on the television box. Civilization has its pleasures, but Moss and I decided we are ready for the peace and quiet we get when Cupcake is at anchor. We may be getting overstimulated in the big city.

Moss isn’t waving because she is afraid a bee, attracted to her sandwich, will take advantage of her inattention and GET her.

And another selfie. Ellen fears no bee.

The DC-3 is one sexy plane. I’m also fond of that super cool TWA mail plane. The Ford Tri-Motor sounds like it provided one heck of a ride: unable to fly high enough to get above most turbulence, the ride could get so bouncy the seats came loose and the fuselage sides would bulge and flex. The plane was so noisy people could suffer hearing loss. The romance of air travel.

Meanwhile, in DC...

Because there’s nothing we can do about the situation with Cupcake and Florence, we figured we might as well enjoy our time in Washington. Got to see Simon, something we did not expect to happen until December. We have missed our boy. Look at the happy college boy!

Visited with cousins Amanda and Sean. Got to meet Simon’s roommates. Got to see Simon’s pal Siena (who was eager to meet little sister Moss). Visited to the Air & Space Museum. Briefly checked out the National Museum of the American Indian. (We ran out of time but are planning to return to each tomorrow.) And I’d like to find time to check out the portraits of the Obamas and go for a run or two.

Today, however, we are so worn out from the rollercoaster of emotions we felt from figuring out our next move if the boat was sunk to immediately getting the glimmer of hope that Cupcake will be fine. Decided to walk back to the hotel after our late brunch and just relax, read, and do some boat school with Moss.

Moss made all-gone with her yummy drink. Thumbs up if you like dirty dishes!

Look Facebook friends: I ate breakfast!

So here are a few photos from yesterday. And a picture of my breakfast plate. I don’t understand the impulse to share photos of every meal you Facebookers eat at a restaurant. Far more fun to show the empty plate. My breakfast was delicious. Moss enjoyed her hot chocolate.

Now this is one fine canoe.

Ellen is laughing at the gridlock on Capitol Hill. Moss is dismayed at the future we are bequeathing her.

Saw these guys marching up Pennsylvania Avenue. Made us wonder if perhaps DC wasn’t due for more rain than forecast.

Space cadet.

Super cool Peruvian reed boat.

Cautiously optimistic

We (ok, probably just me) spent the morning resigned to the loss of the boat. Couldn’t see how she could possibly be ok with a storm surge so great that people in New Bern were getting rescued because their ground floors were inundated with water.

Then we got word about some photos of the marina, taken this morning. We anxiously scrutinized them, and among the many photos, we found this shot of Cupcake. Afloat.

She is the boat farthest on the left. The one with radar at her top set of spreaders.

She looks fine to us: floating at her waterline (not low in the water as if she is leaking or sinking). She is where we left her (next to her sister ship – another Pearson 36-2 parked stern towards the camera). In another shot you can even see that the fenders we left over Cupcake’s port side are still hanging from the lifelines.

The tide/surge may still come up high enough to imperil her, but at this point with the majority of the big winds and waves moved to the south and with the rain past its heaviest, we are feeling a little bit better. We couldn’t see any listing/sinking/damaged boats at all in the marina. That fact is just amazing.

We still don’t know when we can or should head back to New Bern, but boy are we boat-sick like never before. It’s unlikely Cupcake escaped completely unscathed. At a minimum, we anticipate chaos in the cabin, possibly some water damage and mold and all that. But we can deal with those things if she is still afloat.

Storm Update

Stripped for the storm.

After a very busy day getting the boat squared away on Tuesday, we left our girl Cupcake in the hands of marina staff. Hoping for the best. And we are surprised that we are not worrying about it. Nothing more to be done. 

No matter what happens, we will at least have one boat when all this is over: we left Mr. Flowerpot in a storage unit that new friends in the marina graciously shared with us. (Actually, it’s their unit, but they were willing to drive Mr. Flowerpot and the outboard there and store them for us.) 

Moss has really enjoyed the last two days because she loves meeting and talking with all the other sailors. We finally got to a part of the country where there are lots of other liveaboards, lots of characters, lots of friendly. And then Florence.

You’ve got to put the gear somewhere. So it is all inside. The picture does not show how humid it is in here.

Not a lot of room to move around. Just as well, we are not living aboard for now.

She (Moss, not the hurricane) was a huge help getting the boat prepared. Helped me strip the dodger and bimini off the frames, helped with zip-ties we put on just about everything. Was a huge help trundling the cart from Cupcake to the rental car with loads of gear.

Rented a car and drove to Washington, DC to visit Simon. (I am completely dumbfounded as to why anyone would buy a Chevrolet Equinox. Our rental car is one and it is in the top three worst vehicles I have driven. It is marginally better than a PT Cruiser we rented a while ago. The worst driving car overall was a friend’s totally worn out VW Karmann Ghia I drove once in graduate school. Man, was that thing awful. But its excuse was that it was old as the hills and had been neglected then poorly maintained and even more poorly modified by a series of ham-fisted shade tree mechanics for years. 

But back to this Equinox: the only things it has going for it are the color (a nice blue), the size (it holds our stuff), and the fact that it was available for rent. But it has mushy steering feel and wanders all over the road. It is so bland looking it is difficult to remember what it looks like when you leave it in a parking lot. It has utterly inexplicable controls for HVAC, radio, odometer, etc.)

Saw this truck with a BBQ in the bed, parked in front of a BBQ restaurant. BYOBBQ?

Checked into the nastiest hotel we have ever seen. It’s a Days Inn in Arlington, Virginia.

(Here come the pictures, keep the Purell handy.)

We told Moss we would find a hotel with a pool.

Bathroom window.

Ick.

Mold everywhere. Peeling wallpaper. Cigarette burns on the blankets. Broken window in the bathroom. Nasty shower/tub. WiFi doesn’t work. Weak cell service. First floor room where the shades don’t completely close. Came with a fridge where we could store all our food. Then the fridge didn’t work so the food is spoiled. Two police cars in the parking lot…never a good sign. Turns out the hotel takes Section 8 vouchers. That’s fine, but it is not what I am looking for in a hotel for my family. If that makes me sound like an elitist snob, remember that I am a yachtsman, so don’t act all surprised and judgy. Read some other blog if you like…
Funny thing: I just mentioned to some cruisers we met yesterday that I finally feel so thoroughly into the sailing life that I went into the marina bathroom barefoot and didn’t even give it a thought until afterwards. This hotel is ickier.

The restaurant at the hotel is called “The Restaurant” of course.

You’re probably thinking, “Jonathan is grumpy. He is tired. He is hungry. He is stressed about the storm.”

Not true. Fake news. I am in a pretty good mood. Had a great night’s sleep even though Moss was in bed with us because her bed seemed even more nasty. Had the included breakfast (think about how bad a donut has to taste in order to be considered inedible). This is still part of the adventure. And what great stories!

Anyway, we’ve changed to a different hotel within walking distance from Simon’s dorm and will be moving there this afternoon, we are returning the rental car (since we won’t need it while we are here and will just rent something more appropriate to our station in life when it is time to return. Thinking Range Rover or Maserati.)

That’s it for now. 

Double bow lines on each side. And a spring line on each side. Chafe gear everywhere. But when the storm surge lifts the boat 20’, all this careful preparation may be academic.

Insurance company, I’m looking at you. This is a well-secured vessel.

We hope Cupcake is waiting for us, right where we left her, when we return.

Funny story about the jerry cans in the picture: they are blocking the cockpit drain holes. Thinking about 3’ of rainfall and what that means, we moved the cans before the storm.

Lemonade

Here’s the storm update:

Don’t watch CNN or the Weather Channel or any of the other network hype-a-thons. They may have accurate predictions, but their graphics and rhetoric are so over the top they make the viewers freak out. (Mom and Dad, I’m talking to you. I’m also talking to myself.)

Anyway, we had all the time in the world over the past week or two to prepare for the storm. To move to a safe place to hide from the storm.

Unfortunately, the storm path was so uncertain, we moved ourselves right into the path of the storm. Ah. 

So here we are in New Bern, North Carolina. Two days before landfall of a historic hurricane. Peak hurricane season. Pretty much right on top of New Bern. Well played, Cupcake.

Good news? We are in a well-recommended marina, way up a river, about as far from the sea as we can get on this entire trip. The marina claims it has never lost a boat to a hurricane.

Bad news? The people at the marina say if the hurricane remains category 4 or lower we will probably be fine. But if it reaches category 5 or higher, they anticipate losing every one of the 500+ boats here. Oh boy.

More good news? Moss, Ellen, and I are all optimists. We can’t change the outcome, we have done what we can to prepare (more on that later), so here we go. Moss just told me we can change our outcome. She means we can’t change the outcome of the storm, but we can change what happens to us during the storm. And how we react to anything. This trip is an adventure. This is part of that adventure.

So what is going to happen to us during the storm? Taking the lemons and making lemonade. We will pick up a rental car tomorrow morning, load it with everything that fits and we can’t live without. And then we will drive to Washington, DC to visit our boy Simon. (Moss points out that Simon will then have something to blog about. We think he should blog about the party he throws his pals because of all the food we are bringing from Cupcake’s fridge.)

Storm prep: up a river, in a basin, tied every which way to a dock and pilings. Chafing gear applied at all chafe points. Boat stripped of sails, sun canvas, solar panels, jerry cans, boom, anything that can catch the wind and isn’t bolted down. Watermaker pickled so it doesn’t grow nasty on the membrane. Composting toiled clean and empty. (Ellen has visions of returning to a a flooded boat with poop floating in it like the pool scene in Caddy Shack.) Hatches and portholes closed (of course, come on.) Double lines at all the stern, marina staff tending to the lines at the bow (24/7 even at the height of the storm!)

We’ve heard they will be out on the docks even at night, even when the storm surge raises the water level 2, 3, 4, 5 feet over the top of the docks. Wow. Moss points out it is hard to believe what I am writing. We will know if it all works when we return. When? Maybe Saturday, maybe Sunday. Maybe next week. Who knows?

When we thought we were going to be staying at a hotel in New Bern (now it seems a bad idea, state of emergency and all that) I was intrigued and worried about what it would be like to experience a hurricane first hand. Days of howling wind and insane downpours. Thunder. Lightning. (Will it be dark? Will it be loud?) Intrigued to know what it would be like, worried that it would freak me out permanently.

Now it appears we will leave the area on a bright (hot, of course) calm day. And we won’t return until the weather is settled again. I’m sure we will return to destruction, possibly devastation. But if all goes according to plan, we will miss the actual violence the storm brings. That’s a curious thought.

Now, about the people here. We have finally, in the past week or so, felt like we live on Cupcake, that this boat is our home and our life. (Great timing, hmm?) And we have also gotten to spend time with friendly, open, giving sailors who also live on their boats, or near their boats. 

This marina is filled with liveaboards (one couple just sold everything and moved aboard last month). We were in the swimming pool (come on, it has been hot, we have been working hard, Moss is a fish out of the water when she is out of the water) and two guys here on vacation heard our situation and gave us a ride to Walmart to get a cooler so we can keep our perishable food cold long enough to give it to Simon and his roommates.

Then walking the dock back to Cupcake this afternoon we got an offer of some firehose from a cruiser who had dozens of feet of the stuff. He gave us a tour of his boat (air conditioned, ahh) and then about eight feet of super durable chafing gear. Tomorrow I will install it at all the chafe points where our lines rub on anything.

Another couple is letting us store Mr. Flowerpot in their storage unit. All we need to do is help them move their dinghy to storage as well. People are so friendly and welcoming. There is an end-of-the-world vibe here, people are resigned but not gloomy. Realistic but amusing. It may be a different scene when we return. That’ll be part of the adventure, I suppose.

Yesterday we were in Oriental, NC. (Favorite business: Oriental Dental. Though we could open a psychiatrist office: Oriental Mental. Or a real estate office: Oriental Rental. Or a body shop: Oriental Dental. Or become a guidance counselor: Oriental Gentle. Or a pre-school: Oriental Fundamental. Or a recycling company: Oriental Environmental. Or a urologist: Oriental Genital. And a vegetarian restaurant: Oriental Lentil. You get the picture. It was a fun walk through town.) 

If there’s anything left to Oriental when we get back, we are looking forward to spending more time there. Lots of sailboats, very sailor-focused place. Ellen did think the breakwater could have used a few feet more rock on it. That’s a reason we didn’t stay there. We are now  20 miles up the river.

Ok, I will try to get some photos of the boat stripped for the storm. That’s it.