October 22-25. Currituck Sound to New Bern, NC. Total Distance: 180 nm
Because I’m getting behind in my blog and I’ll likely forget the details if I delay any longer, I’m going to combine the last four days into one entry.
October 22. Currituck Sound to Deep Point anchorage. Distance 53 miles/ Time 10 hrs
I’m convinced the “Currituck” in whatever native language it came from, must mean “bad luck”, because that’s what I’ve experienced here. The first time it was getting caught while anchored in 25-30 knot winds and 3-foot seas1. Today, it was another midge fly attack and a broken chartplotter2.
I could have easily made it to Buck Island anchorage yesterday, three hours further down the road, but, I didn’t want to chance the nightmare of Serendipity being defiled by midges like the last time I was there. I thought the Currituck Sound anchorage would be a safe bet since I was at least a mile from the nearest shore. Boy, was I wrong.
I woke up before daylight, and as I opened up the companionway hatch to climb into the cockpit, there they were. Tens of thousands of midges sitting on just about every square inch of the boat! Way more than even in Buck Island. WTF!? I’d heard that it was too late in the season for midges (but I guess they hadn’t gotten the message, yet).
I knew from last time that where was nothing I could do until they started dying. The winds were calm, and until they died, trying to kill them or sweep them away would just cause them to swarm awhile around my head but then land right back on the boat. So, I pushed through the weighing-anchor process, but this time I had a mosquito net for my head which I had since purchased just in case of such emergencies. It was nice to at least not having them flying in my eyes, ears, and mouth like last time.
As I was ready to weigh anchor, I noticed my chartplotter had turned itself off. I tried to turn it on, but it was dead. Fortunately, I still had the Navionics and AquaMap apps on my iPad which I also had mounted in the cockpit, but not having the chartplotter (while not critical for this specific leg through the ICW), would severely degrade my offshore safety (since I would not have any radar).
Together these problems delayed me over a half-hour from departing the anchorage, but that probably worked out for the best, because by the time I passed the Coinjock Marina around 8:30 am (which had likely been very full the night before) it was almost empty, indicating that the other southbound boats had already departed. That meant that they all wouldn’t have to pass me.
Speaking of Coinjock, I think if I come this way next season I’m just going to budget for staying there for a night to avoid both Buck Island and Currituck Sound anchorages. Trying to avoid spending the $120 there has delayed me a week going south and almost two weeks going north. I totally get why it is such a popular stopover point; there are really no other options. (And, it is a convenient and nice marina with a very good restaurant.)
While the rest of the day was very pleasant outwardly, I had a hard time enjoying it. Knowing the work that was ahead of me to rid the boat of the midge flies and their stains (as well as the inconvenience of having to keep the cabin closed up all day to prevent them from getting inside), coupled with worrying about what I was going to do if I couldn’t get my chartplotter working prevented me from enjoying my surroundings. When I wasn’t spending time vacuuming up dead or dying midge flies from all over the dock (to moderate success), I was troubleshooting the chartplotter. I could sometimes get it to work for awhile, but it would inevitably quit at random. Other times, it wouldn’t even restart for hours. I thoroughly cleaned all the connections (the culprit with similar past issues with it), but that didn’t seem to help. I ended up arriving at the Deep Point anchorage in a very frustrated and tired state.
I was glad to have arrived before sunset, and although there were already four boat there, there was room for another few. Unfortunately, mosquitos appeared while I was setting anchor, so I was forced down into the cabin for the rest of the night, not able to enjoy what was probably a beautiful sunset. Not the best day of my trip so far. (I didn’t take any photos.)
October 23. Deep Point anchorage to Bath anchorage. Distance: 67 nm/Time: 11 hrs
Today was supposed to be a short day. I was planning to eventually visit the town of “Little” Washington (Washington, NC) which had been recommended to me by just about everybody. It had the reputation of being historic, scenic, and very boater-friendly. And best of all, it had a large, free, city dock right downtown where a person could stay for 48 hours free, or for a low cost for longer periods. The only downside was that it was about six hours (one way) off the route south, but I thought that would work to my advantage since most of the other boats were making beelines south, so the free docks would likely be available. Being single-handed, I knew that I needed occasional breaks, so Washington seemed the natural choice.
However, it was too far to make in one day from Deep Point; I would have to pick an anchorage somewhere halfway in between. The closest one to Washington that I knew of was in a little bay off the ICW called Slade Creek, by all accounts and excellent anchorage. It was only about five hours away, and since it was supposed to be in the high 70’s in the afternoon, I decided to take advantage of both to do a bottom cleaning on the boat once I arrived3. I’d get there in the heat of the afternoon, dive on the boat for 30-45 mins and get refreshed, then get an early start the next morning for the remaining seven hours to Washington.
I woke up before sunup again, and just as the eastern glow was starting, I was ready to climb up top and start the weighing anchor process. I was expecting mosquitos (and praying against midges), but found no bugs around the boat at all. Hallelujah and praise the Lord! I was also surprised to see that all the other boats had already departed! These people are serious about getting south!
It was flat calm with a mist on the water as I weighed anchor, joined the channel, and began following at a distance the local armada of boats heading south. (There were three anchorages in the area all emptying out at the same time.) Today would be spent about half in the Albemarle/Pungo canal, and half in the wider Pungo River itself, meaning that the first half I would have to be at the helm most of the time, but the second half I could aim in a general direction and relax a bit more.
It was another lovely day, cool in the morning, warming up as the day progressed. I only passed one of the boats heading south, another sailboat. That captain (another single-hander, but much more experienced) and I had a nice conversation on the radio as I slowly passed him. He gave me some Bahamas tips (he has been going for over 20 years), and when I told him I was heading to Washington, he asked me if I had been to bath. I didn’t know what he was talking about. I knew that he couldn’t smell me from that far away. But then he explained that Bath was a town a couple of hours shy of Washington that had a very nice anchorage. I thanked him for the info. Little did I know it would come in very handy a few hours later.
The canal was as pretty going southbound as it had been going north bound. Perhaps even more so this time as the trees were starting to turn.
As the canal ended and I entered the wide (and very calm) Pungo River, I was able to aim the boat toward the far end 15 miles away and relax a bit more. I prepared a real lunch, and even did my yoga, but decided to save my (very limited these days) workout strength for the hull cleaning.
We arrived right on time at 2 pm at Slade Creek, the only boat in sight. It appeared to be a wonderfully peaceful anchorage. The wind was calm and the water like glass, which made the high-70’s temperature feel even hotter. It would feel good to get in the cold water for a bit and even better to get caught up on the hull cleaning.
So, I gathered up the snorkel gear, the hookah kit, and all the hull-cleaning tools, dropped the swim ladder, then started suiting up. This is not a quick or easy process for me yet since I still getting used to it all, but after 30 minutes I was geared up and slowly climbing down the swim ladder and toward the water.
I had gotten both flipper-laden feet and the hookah rig into the water and was already breathing through the hookah ready to take the final plunge into the water when something caught my eye: A JELLYFISH! Then another one. As I stood on the swim ladder scanning the water, jellyfish after jellyfish floated by. Now, I’m not a jellyfish expert, but they looked to me like what the folks in Oriental had called Sea Nettles. (They had been floating around the marina there in July and August.) I had looked up the facts about them then (because I knew that I eventually wanted to clean my hull myself), and it confirmed that they were stinging jellyfish4, that they were all over the area, but went away by the end of August. So what were they doing here in mid-October!?
Because I had gone to all the work to get ready for the water, I was tempted for a few seconds to just chance it and try to clean the boat. I thought about trying to identify the species online to see if it was a stinging type, but then found out that I had absolutely no cell service in this anchorage. That meant I couldn’t even call for help. Yikes. As they say, discretion is the better part of valor (at least, that’s what we cowards always say!) So, very frustrated, I took off all the gear and pulled the swim ladder back up.
But now what? It was 2:45 pm, it was hot with no wind, and I had no connectivity. I really had no desire to sit around for hours, wasting time, twiddling my thumbs. I re-confirmed that Washington was still seven hours away, so that wouldn’t work. And then I remembered the guy telling me about Bath. Where was Bath? I found it in Navionics about 2/3 of the way from where I was to Washington, and sure enough, it had a good anchorage. I plugged it into the GPS and it said that it would take me four and a half hours to get there. If I could weigh anchor in the next 15 minutes, I could get there about 30 minutes after sunset, which meant I would probably still have some twilight. I decided to go for it. I would be so close to Washington the next day, that I could either clean the hull before I departed Bath, or after I arrived in Washington.
Despite a very muddy chain and anchor, I was off by just after 3 pm, put the pedal to the metal, and headed for Bath. Not wanting to get into an unfamiliar anchorage in the dark if I could help it, I did everything I could to cut the corners and even set sail when I little wind appeared to give me an extra half a knot for awhile. But, the next four hours were mainly just very beautiful with calm waters and seas and eventually a pretty sunset as I approached Bath.
Despite my best efforts, it was dark by the time I entered the little bay in front of Bath. But, the approach was uncomplicated, the anchorage huge, and there was only one other boat present, so anchoring went without a hitch, even in the dark. (It was good to know that all my night external lights on the boat still worked. I hadn’t used them since being offshore three months prior.)
By the time I arrived in Bath, I was very tired. My normal, self-imposed limit in the ICW is 40 miles because of how fatiguing it is to have to be at the helm most of the time, and even when not at the helm, have to keep a close watch that the autopilot hasn’t decided to play one of its games. I had just done 67 (and all suiting up for hull cleaning stuff), so I was pretty wasted. Knowing that I only had a two and a half hour leg to Washington where I could relax for a few days, I was looking forward to sleeping in and relaxing in the morning, maybe even cooking myself a nice breakfast.
But, of course, it was not to be.
As I was settling down, I received a phone call from my mother whose health has been steadily declining, and based on that conversation, decided that I needed to fly up to Ohio to see her ASAP.
So, that changed everything! Now I had to do some major logistics research and coordination. Not only did I need to figure out how to fly up to Ohio, but even more importantly, where to keep my boat while doing so. I was not optimistic about my chances of finding a marina with any open transient slips; with the migration, this was considered “in season”, and because most boats don’t anchor but hop from marina to marina every day, marinas were often booked months in advance.
But I would have to wait until the next day when the marinas were open to see if that were true. In the meantime, I started looking at local airports in the NE North Carolina area to figure out where I’d be able to get a flight out to Ohio, because that would also affect my marina choice. These little towns didn’t typically have rental car places (or Uber), so if the nearest suitable airport was too far away, I was out of luck.
There seemed only two choices: Greenville and New Bern. New Bern I knew about. It had American Airlines flights out of it, and I was confident I could get a ride there from friends in Oriental, so a marina in Oriental would be a good choice. And of course, there was a big marina in New Bern itself. The Greenville, NC, airport had AA feeder flights and was only about 30 minutes from Little Washington, so that was also an option. There weren’t a lot of other choices. I’d have to start making phone calls in the morning. So much for sleeping in and a relaxing start to the day! Now I didn’t even know where I’d be going!
October 24. Bath to Gale Creek Anchorage. Distance: 23nm /Time: 4 hrs
I woke up early and, knowing that the marinas wouldn’t open until 8 am at the earliest, I began prepping the boat for another day of cruising (preflighting the engine, dipping the fuel tank, doing the dishes, etc.) since I knew I’d probably be going somewhere!
Then I started making phone calls, starting with Oriental. No luck. Everything full. New Bern? Same. That dock master recommended a marina across the Neuse River called Bridgeton. All full. Dang! Well, that left Washington. I called them, explained the situation, and they said they could give me a slip with power and water, but for only a week. I really wanted two weeks. Not only did I need to do the normal “ashore” stuff to the boat, but needed to clean all the midges off, fix the outboard engine, stow the dinghy for offshore sailing, and prep it for me to be gone for a few days. But, if that’s all I could get, it would have to do. I asked the guy if I could show up the next day, and he said yes. (I still wanted to clean the hull, and can’t do it in a marina without a wet suit due to the danger of electrocution5.) So, at least I had an option, although not an optimal one.
And then I remembered Greg.
Greg was one of my neighbors during my two months at Oriental. He had a cabin cruiser, and I remember him telling me just before I left that he was leaving Oriental to move his boat to a marina he had found up New Bern way. He was very excited about it, saying that it was a beautiful setting, the people were very friendly, that the price was reasonable, it was very protected from storms, and had access to two swimming pools, exercise rooms, a whirlpool, sauna, etc. It sounded great. I just didn’t remember the name!
So I texted him to ask, and he replied back a short time later with “Northwest Creek Marina.” I did a search, and sure enough, there it was, up a little creek about 3/4 of the way to New Bern from Oriental. I immediately placed a phone call, explained my situation, and thankfully the dock master said he could give me two weeks (and the price was reasonable). Sold! I told him it would take me two days to get there, and he said that wouldn’t be a problem.
By this time it was noon. I looked at the distance between Bath and that marina, and sure enough, it was 60 miles, or about 12 hours. I needed to find an anchorage in between, and preferably one that would allow me an early afternoon arrival into Northwest Creek the next day; they closed at 5 pm, but I needed to refuel there and would need help with my lines. (Boy, would I need help with my lines!)
So, looking at the chart and the forecast wind direction, I decided on the Gale Creek anchorage, about 23 miles from Bath. That would take four hours. I realized now, to my chagrin, that I was not going to have time to clean my hull! It would be all I could do to get to the Gale Creek before sunset and the following day would be motoring to the marina to get there before they closed. I was going to once again have to pay somebody to clean it. 🙁
The other problem was my dinghy. I had been towing it since my first arrival in Norfolk so it had been in the water for awhile now. While I cleaned it once while swimming at the Put In Creek anchorage, I had forgotten to clean its hull when I did Serendipity’s in Norfolk. That meant it hadn’t been touched for over three weeks and probably had a lot of growth on it. Since this marina would be one of my last stops before possibly going offshore on my journey south, I needed to stow the dinghy on my bow while there. And its bottom needed to be cleaned before I did that. Once I got to the marina, it would be very difficult to clean the dinghy’s hull (and very messy, even if I could figure out a way to do so with the dinghy hanging from a halyard). So, I was going to have to try to quickly suit up and jump in the water after getting to Gale Creek to give the dinghy a quick scrub. Sigh. At least all the dive gear and tools were still out on deck ready to go.
And that’s what transpired. I departed Bath with the winds out of the NW at about 8-10 knots, so set the Genoa on another broad reach and motor-sailed, hitting speeds of almost seven knots for a couple of hours. As I hit the turn south into the ICW, I furled the sail and just motored the remaining couple of hours. I arrived at around 4:45 pm, and was in the water by about 5:00 pm. The water was colder than before, so it was all I could do to endure the 20 minutes it took to clean the dinghy’s bottom. But boy, it needed it! The hull was caked with gunk and slime, and barnacles were starting to grow. The hookah worked great once again, but I can’t last very long in the cold water up here. It is also almost impossible to see through, so most of the work is done by feel. It will be nice to get back down south to warm, clear water.
October 25: Gale Creek to Northwest Creek Marina. Distance: 37 nm/Time: 7 hrs
I woke up at 6 am, and started prepping for another full day of motoring. The winds were forecast to be calm, so I didn’t plan to set sail at all. After an uneventful departure from the anchorage I got to witness a lovely sunrise as I headed southeast.
After a couple of hours and turning southwest, the winds were enough to tempt me into unfurling the Genoa and motor-sailing again, which increased my speed about .75 knots, ostensibly saving me about 30 minutes on the day. It was another beautiful day, eventually getting warm enough, when the winds eventually died, for me to change into shorts and t-shirt.
I arrived at Northwest Creek around 2 pm and, after contacting the marina’s dock hands on the radio, headed for the fuel dock since I needed about 30 gallons of diesel. I had to orbit about 15 minutes waiting for a boat that cut in front of me, then pulled into the fueling pit only to discover two almost unbelievable things!
The first thing the dock hands asked me when I pulled up was how much diesel I thought I was going to need. Now, my tiny fuel needs have never raised much concern. My tank only holds 40 gallons after all, while many of these cabin cruisers will come in and get 500 or more gallons at a pop. But when I told them I needed 30-35 gallons, they got all concerned and said that didn’t think they’d have enough! Huh? They explained that a cabin cruiser had just come in and taken 450 gallons, and they knew they were getting low. That didn’t make me feel good, because the bottom of the fuel tank is where all the water and crud accumulates. But, it didn’t matter at all because of the second astonishing thing: Their diesel hose was only about 20 feet long! I couldn’t believe it. Most of the marina fuel docks I had been to had hoses on reels that were dozens if not hundreds of feet long! This was 20 feet, no real, attached just like an automobile gas stations’ pumps. No matter how we maneuvered my boat on the dock, we could never get it closer than five feet from my tank! It was one of the stupidest things I’d ever seen!
So, now I was thinking that this place was pretty screwed up. If they had told me ahead of time that they didn’t think they had even 30 gallons, I wouldn’t have bothered stopping at the fuel dock in the first place, but would have gone directly to my assigned slip. But, here I was, so I thought I’d take advantage of the situation by walking down the dock to take a look at where they were going to put me. Boy, was I glad I did!
It was the most screwed-up slip I’ve yet encountered (and all of them were like that, here). There were only two outside pilings and two cleats at the perpendicular dock to tie up to. There was no middle piling on either side of the slip and the tiny finger pier nothing on it to tie off to! It was basically just four corners. There was NO WAY I could get into this slip single-handed. I couldn’t reach any of the four things to tie my boat off to, especially while driving the boat. It was impossible! Especially troubling was that with the lack of mid-slip pilings or at least boundary lines between the slips, there was nothing to prevent me from drifting into the boats next to me while I was running around the boat trying desperately to get my lines on pilings and cleats that were 10 feet away! I couldn’t understand who would design such a dock! Even with a crew of four, with any kind of winds it would be very challenging.
I think if I had not desperately needed a place to put my boat to fly out to visit Mom, I would have just left this obviously screwed up place and gone out to anchor somewhere. But, I really had no choice. I had to figure out a way to get my boat in that slip. I just couldn’t see how it could be done by me alone unless I were really lucky and everything worked out perfectly. And I don’t like to count on luck.
About then the lady on the sailboat next door came out on deck. I told her that I was supposed to be her neighbor, but didn’t see how I was going to get into the slip. Just then her husband came walking down the pier from the fuel dock and said to her, “Yep, I was right. It’s a Shannon, and he’s sailed all the way from Alaska!” (lol) His wife put two and two together and realized the boat he had gone to see was mine. Turns out they were from Bristol, R.I. where Shannons are built, saw us coming in and thought it was a Shannon, so the husband walked down to the fuel dock to get a closer look. We must have walked right past each other.
Anyway, I expressed my concerns. He understood and volunteered to ride along with me. The two dock hands then showed up, and we all came up with a very coordinated plan. Long story short, it all worked out and with all five people helping (and thankfully, no wind) we were able to get Serendipity tied up without damage to her or the adjacent boats. But boy, I would not keep my boat here permanently with any plans of coming or going on a regular basis. As far as I’m concerned, the slips here are totally dysfunctional!
On thing I’m realizing as I go from marina to marina is how unique each one is, like each one is recreating the wheel. You’d think by now that there would be an established understanding of the minimum design criteria for a functional slip. But, no. It’s like each marina owner asked their 12-year old kid to design their marina and then just went with it! I have to say that so far the best marina I’ve been to, functionality-wise, was Blind Pass Marina in Bradenton where I had my boat for a year. At least on the newly renovated side where I was, there were huge, metal, floating docks with large cleats all over them (whose location could be adjusted along sliding rails). It was easy to get in and out of and easy to customize cleat locations for each specific boat. Sort of the exact opposite to this place’s docks.
But, it turned out that, like many of my first impressions, it didn’t take me long to start to really like Northwest Creek Marina. It has a wonderful vibe about it, all the people are very friendly–tenants and the dockhands alike. Everyone is extremely welcoming, and the facilities that I’ve seen are quite nice. I’ve also been told that I can get access to a health club/gym next door, so I will definitely be checking that out tomorrow.
So, there you go! In hindsight, if the dock hands had told me that they probably didn’t have enough fuel ahead of time, and I had tried to go directly to my slip alone, it would not have been pretty and might have resulted in damage to Serendipity or the adjacent boats (or both). And, if their stupid hose had been long enough, I might have taken on bad fuel. As it is, I will now fill up my tank from my jerry cans, then refill them after the marina gets a fresh load of fuel later this week. A lot more work, but I want to have a full tank as I start my next section of travel south.
Either way, I’m now safe in a marina with electricity, water, laundry, access to groceries, and where I can get Amazon and other deliveries sent (and will be here long enough to receive them!) It’s also close to the airport from where my flight departs. So, I’m happy. Tomorrow I plan to make a day just for me, relaxing, checking the place out, blogging, and hopefully getting some real exercise!
- See blog entry “The Anchorage from Hell” dated Sept 3. ↩︎
- The chartplotter is the main screen in the cockpit which my sonar, GPS, and radar are all controlled by and displayed on. ↩︎
- It had already been 10 days since I had done it at Hospital Point and I was trying to do it at least once a week so that none of the difficult-to-remove growth ever had a chance to get a grip on the boat. ↩︎
- According to AI: “Not all jellyfish sting. However, some jellyfish can cause severe pain or even life-threatening reactions. Some types of jellyfish that can sting include…Sea Nettles. If you’re stung by a jellyfish, you should get help right away. If you’re experiencing life-threatening symptoms such as difficulty breathing, call 911 or go to your nearest emergency room.” ↩︎
- Boats which are hooked up to 120 volt AC shore power can “leak” electricity into the surrounding water if not wired properly, which can electrocute anyone in the water around the boat. This is why marinas prohibit swimming in them. Professional divers are given a lot of protection from this because of the rubber wet suits. ↩︎