Pictures from the trip - Page 2

The boat in her slip at Belhaven, NC.  Notice the nearly vertical flags in the background, the strain on the line holding the boat in her slip, and the distance of the stern to the dock.  Backing the boat into this slip against the wind was a challenge, and Chuck pulled it off like a pro.

There are many more pics I could bore you with, but those I've posted are representative and tell the story.  Thanks again for your support throughout the trip, and I wish you a happy 4th of July!

Greg.

Pictures from the trip - Page 1

The crew:  Me, Todd, Chuck, and Scott.  Taken in Beaufort, NC, after completing the 3-day offshore portion.  I was bare footed.  Everyone else was wearing heels.

In our first lock from Chuck's perspective.  Note the lines hanging down from the walls on the right side.  The exit doors are opened slightly to equalize the water level.

Personal Flotation Device Familiarization.  While on the canals across Florida, Scott talked Todd and me through donning, arming, manually inflating, and then stowing our Type V PFDs which were brand new, still in the bag before we started.  We agreed that these would always be handy and would be worn at night and during periods of rough weather.

This shows the weather we experienced the first day while crossing Florida on the canals and Lake Okeechobee.  What weather?

After the breakdown in Indowntown, there was lots of time to waste:

A gator hanging out next to the boat at Indiantown Marina.

Todd with his niece and nephew, Sydney and Julian, at Indiantown Marina.

Tearing the pilothouse dash and overhead apart to complete the AIS installation.  Chuck was always at the ready with helpful suggestions.

With the steering fixed, we continued on our way:

Our first sunrise offshore on Wednesday, 24 June.

Chuck looking at the dolphins.  Unfortunately, it was very difficult to get pictures of them.  They visited often but didn't hang around long.  There were times they'd jump right in front of the boat, crossing the bow, but without a camera constantly ready, capturing photos of the action was impossible.

Here's the flag waving from the transom that I mention in an earlier post.

Chuck telling a sea story while the crew listens and the autopilot drives the boat.

I tried to capture the change in the seas after rounding Frying Pan Shoals, but the picture doesn't do it justice.  This picture doesn't show how deep the troughs are at 3 - 5 feet, but comparing this photo to the previous 4, it is easy to see that the character of the sea had changed significantly.

Scott and Chuck strolling the boardwalk in Beaufort, NC, recovering from the rough seas of the past 8 hours.

Near the end of the ICW as Chuck an I entered the Norfolk industrial complex.

Shortly after the above picture was taken, we rounded the corner into Portsmouth where several US Navy ships were docked for maintenance, including at least one aircraft carrier, possibly two.  I had my camera to my face, taking several photos, and I heard an admonition in the high distance, "Do not take pictures of US warships."  Lowering the camera, I looked up and saw a guard post on the aft end of one of the docked aircraft carriers from where the voice had come.  Once upon a time I was in the Navy and took many pictures of Navy warships while I was on active duty, so I didn't think twice about taking pictures this day until the voice from above informed me that I was doing something wrong.  Our lives have changed since 9-11, and that's sad, but I understand.

We were coincidentally (maybe?) shadowed by a Navy security patrol boat as we completed our transit through Portsmouth.  Chuck expected that they'd board us any minute and ask us for the memory card from my camera, but they never did.

The Norfolk cityscape.

Sunrise as we leave the marina harbor entrance on what would become the last day of the journey home.

The photos are no longer inserting where I want them to, so I'm going to start a new page.

We made it!

Chuck and I pulled out of Hampton at 0600 Tuesday morning and parked Branwen at her new home in Solomons, MD, at 1600.  We had an uneventful - thankfully - run up the Chesapeake with 2 to 4 foot seas and the wind from our stern.  We averaged a little better than 8 knots for the final leg.

Approaching the slip at Calvert Marina on Tuesday, June 30th

Again, there was no parade, no crowd to share the celebration, no band to meet us, but it didn't matter.  Chuck and I had been quietly celebrating since entering familiar waters north of the Potomac, and there were folks waiting for us at the slip as we pulled in.  My wife, Mary, and her brother, who just happened to be in town for a meeting, were there, and someone Chuck and I work with came to see us pull in and to give Chuck a ride home.  That saved Mary and me a short trip in the wrong direction, and I appreciated it very much.

Tied up in her new home at Calvert Marina, MD.

But we couldn't just jump off the boat into our cars and head home like we all wanted to, because after such a long trip there was a lot to do to put the boat away in the slip the first time.  Chuck and I had to pack our personal gear, but I also had to get the laundry and perishable food off the boat.  Mary brought coolers with ice and helped empty the frig and freezer while Chuck and I packed and secured the boat in the slip.

It didn't take that long to get everything packed up, loaded in the car, and then on our way home.  After getting home and unpacking, I relaxed, putting the boat completely out of my mind for a short while, even though I could still feel the earth rocking beneath me as though I was still on the boat.  I got a great night's sleep that wasn't interrupted by the constant barrage of thoughts about what I had to do next to keep the boat and the crew going or what might go wrong next that I should prepare for.

Thoroughly rested, I woke up in the morning with a mental list of chores I needed to do: go back to the boat to collect some personal items I'd forgotten, set some switches appropriately for being in the slip that I'd neglected to check, order supplies for periodic maintenance that had to be done, review lessons learned and determine what needed to be repaired, replaced, or eliminated, make sure she was still where we left her, etc., etc., . . .

It's all part of the joy of being a boat owner.  From The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame:

"Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing — absolutely nothing — half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing... about in boats — or with boats. In or out of 'em, it doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always something else to do, and you can do it if you like, but you'd much better not."

Over the next few days I'll go through the photos from the trip that I wasn't able to post while we were on the boat and weave them together into a post that describes highlights I'd either forgotten about or skipped because a picture was needed.  Check back this weekend, and I'll have it done.

And that'll be it.  The delivery is done, so there won't be any more to say about it.  I'll continue to chronicle Branwen's adventures in my own blog, but I doubt that'll be interesting to most who followed the delivery crew.  Thanks for checking in along the way, caring about us, and pulling for a successful conclusion.  We appreciated your support.

Greg.

The end is in sight

Success is boring.  We got up in Coinjock, NC, got ready to travel while eating breakfast and making coffee, started the engines, got underway, drove the boat for about 9 hours, and we parked at a marina in Hampton, VA, for a good night's sleep before we do it all again tomorrow.  It may be boring, but thinking that we may realize a goal that just a few days ago seemed nearly impossible has those silly grins pasted on our faces again.

The day wasn't as completely boring as that, but pretty close.  There's some excitement simply because there are now just two of us doing what 4 used to do.  Granted, we're not standing 4-on/4-off watches around the clock, but we're both driving the boat off and on during a long day.  Besides driving, we went through 3 bridges today that had to be moved out of our way, passed through one lock that required us both to handle lines, and navigated through the busy Norfolk area.

There have been minor victories along the way.  Chuck suggested that I drive the boat away from the dock today.  He told me exactly what to do, what the boat would do, and what I could do if there were any surprises.  It went exactly as he described, and I pulled the boat away from the dock for the first time.  He also handed me the wheel while we had to wait for bridge openings to just practice driving.  I turned the boat in a full a circle while holding the same spot in the canal using only the shift levers.  At another bridge, I maneuvered the boat in line behind 4 others and held that position until the bridge opened.

I still monitor the engine room, checking temperatures and pressures every 2 hours at a minimum.  On the second or third check of the day, I noticed that the port transmission was running a few degrees hotter than it had been, and the fluid pressure was slightly lower and fluctuating a bit.  I told Chuck that we needed to shut the port engine down so that I could check the transmission fluid level and add as needed.  Chuck agreed, we shut down the engine, and I serviced it.  After restarting the engine and running at speed for a short time, it was clear that the transmission was running cooler and the pressure was stabilized and consistent with what it had been.

If I hadn't learned that problems on a boat don't just go away or fix themselves and that action has to be taken, the transmission symptoms might have been magnified into a trip-ending disaster.

We're now in a slip at the Salt Ponds Marina in Hampton, directly off of the bay, roughly 5 miles north of the Hampton Bay Bridge Tunnel, 80 NM from our destination.  If we get an early start tomorrow and have favorable weather throughout the day, we should be in Solomons tomorrow before dark.

Looking back at all we've done to get this far, it's incredible to think that we've almost done it, but I won't stew in that just yet.  There's a ways to go, and still lots to do to complete the journey.

I almost dozed off staring at the screen.  I'm going to post this and go to bed.  Goodnight!

Greg.

Third leg interrupted

We had a minor setback yesterday due to weather.  Who'd have thought that after 3 full days on the open ocean with incredible weather that we'd be beaten up so badly on the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW) that we'd cry "Uncle!"?  As I already reported, the offshore passage wasn't perfect.  The last several hours were not fun, but we survived those and incorrectly assumed we'd overcome the worst conditions we'd see during the trip and the final legs would be smooth sailing.  We were wrong.

It wasn't just that the weather was so bad, but it was a combination of things.  Operating the boat in high winds, waves that are too much for the autopilot and require someone to actually steer the boat, occasional rain showers, and the thought that our next stop was an anchorage with high winds that might require constant monitoring and possibly even resetting the boat's anchor in the middle of the night add up to high stress and a low reading on the fun meter.

We'd been fighting a ferocious 15 - 20 knot crosswind with 3- 5 foot waves for 3 to 4 hours, and the next leg would point the bow directly into that mess, and we just couldn't do it anymore.  When we honestly appraised what we'd been through and our readiness to continue, we bailed and booked a spot at the first marina available where the Pungo River makes a 90-degree right turn at Belhaven, NC.

The stop was ~6 hours earlier than planned, so our schedule was significantly impacted, AND Scott's plans to leave the boat had to be adjusted.  We were disappointed.  It wasn't as bad as breaking down and staring at a major repair for 2 days, wondering if it would ever happen, but it was disappointing.

When  we plan to stop at a marine, we research the possibilities with a cruising guide for the area, I call the one we choose on the phone to let them know that we're coming and to verify that they have a spot for us, and if they do, the marina usually gives us an idea of where they'll park us.  They then give me a radio frequency on which to contact them when we're approaching the marina so that they're ready for us with line handlers and to give us any final instructions.

For this particular stop, the marina told me that they had a spot to park us along a pier that we could angle into against the wind with a long approach.  It sounded perfect.  Even though Chuck has proven to be a great boat handler, he appreciates it if we can avoid difficult or drastically new docking challenges.

When we got close to the marina, I called them on the radio, and the plan changed completely.  Not only were they giving Chuck a new docking challenge, they were asking him to do something that most people would avoid at all costs.  They asked us to motor well inside the marina area, turn the boat stern-to the pier, and then back it into a narrow slip.  Most marinas would be protected from the wind and the challenge of backing inta slip would not be that significant, but we were still experiencing a 20+ knot wind from the stern.  Crazy!

With the slip we were supposed to back into off the bow, Chuck saw the pier and parking spot with the long approach that the marina had originally described and pointed, yelling from the fly bridge, "Over there!" but the marina staff waiting to handle our lines shook their heads and answered back on the radio, "No, Captain, we need you to back into this slip," gesturing like airline handlers at the tiny slip they were standing at.  Unhappy but resigned to accept his fate, Chuck set up to back into the assigned slip, and he handled it beautifully.  No, the landing wasn't perfect, but nothing or nobody was hurt in the process, and it ended successfully.

We spent an uneventful night in Belhaven, a claim I suspect is made quite often, and we all woke up more refreshed than I think we've been throughout the whole trip.  The disappointment of the previous day was forgotten, spirits were high, and we were anxious to get the modified 4th leg of the journey started.

For those of you who just read this blog because you're fans of Scott, you can stop reading.  We left him in Belhaven this morning, making it a much better place than we found it.  He was an incredible asset throughout the planning, preparation, and initial phases of getting this adventure off the pier at our starting point, and he will be sorely missed.  In the nation of Branwen, he is a national treasure.  I look forward to having him aboard in the future to show him how the boat has improved with his sage advice.

Chuck and I left by ourselves on the fourth leg of the journey, waving to Scott who walked down the pier beside us as we left.  (Yes, that's about how fast a trawler moves.)  We planned to end the day at Coinjock, NC but were concerned long-term about completing the journey with just the two of us and near-term about the weather crossing Albermarle sound.  It's a large, shallow body of water that can get whipped into a frenzy with just a little bit of wind, and we were expecting more than a little bit.

Well, we made it safely to Coinjock.  The day was mostly uneventful.  Yes, there was weather and waves and a few rolls bigger than we'd have liked along the way, but the rolls didn't scramble the boat's interior as badly as those experienced before Belhaven, partly because we've improved as a crew and had the boat in better shape, due largely to Scott's suggestions.

While there's too much food on board that will have to be eaten eventually, we're eating out tonight, because cooking and cleaning up is a lot to do after a full day on the water.

Greg.

Starting the third leg

The second leg - Indiantown, FL to Beaufort, NC - separated the men from the boys and there's much to tell of that separation, but so that I don't get too far behind I'll start with where we are now.  I also have to apologize for losing the ability to post pictures.  I have a single point of failure in that process, and I haven't figured out how to overcome it.  I'll keep working it and will post pictures when I can.

The last day of the 3-day offshore journey was the worst and the best.  We were already tired and just plain weary of the constant noise, motion, and lack of sleep, and we were ready for a break.  BUT THEN, to make it the worst part of the trip so far, the weather kicked up and tossed us around pretty good for a full 12 hours.  We all got even more tired of picking up things and moving the furniture out of the way so we could simply get from point A to point B.  Later, Todd reported that he found the insulated coffee urn on its side, and he had to mop up that mess.

Before we'd realized that the autopilot was unable to keep up with the following seas coming from at least 2 different directions, maybe 3, we'd taken some pretty good rolls.  Todd and I were sitting on the fly bridge, about 16 feet off the water, moving pretty good and probably enjoying the ride more that we should have been.

I happened to look back on a particularly violent roll (probably thinking, "Yippee!") and noticed that the dinghy was sliding back and forth on its cradle.  "That's not supposed to happen," I said to myself.  Looking closer, I saw that the bow line holding the dinghy to the cradle had parted which allowed the dinghy to move from side to side.  The travel was being limited by the bridle that was attached to the davit or crane, but those lines aren't that great, and the davit is not designed to take that kind of stress.

I secured the dinghy bow to a stanchion so that it couldn't slide back and forth.  At about that time, Chuck noted that the autopilot was just not handling the seas well, and he took over over on the wheel.  We all took turns steering - except Todd for some reason - for roughly an hour at a time.  At about two hours out from Beaufort, we gave control back to the autopilot, and it was doing okay with it.

As we drove into Beaufort after 3 days at sea and fighting the confused, stormy seas of the final 12 hours, we were disappointed that there wasn't a victory parade marking our arrival, but we had our own celebration planned.  After that, we wanted to get a decent stretch of real sleep without the concerns of all that could go wrong while 30 to 50 miles offshore.

The marina assigned us a slip that presented Chuck with many new challenges, the most significant was that he'd never pulled the boat into a slip before.  All of the marina's outward piers or face piers had huge private yachts on them, so the marina chose a slip for us that was inside, just on the other side of one of the large yachts, that we couldn't see until we we'd gone past the large yacht, turned the boat around and were pointed at the slip from the channel outside the marina.  There was some wind blowing us towards the shore, but not as much as we'd been fighting out on the ocean.

Chuck makes driving the boat look so easy.  Nice and slow, Chuck had the boat practically stopped and then inched ever so slightly in the needed direction.  Watching him, my lessons have been: keep it slow, correct as needed immediately, stop/back up as needed to try again.  Chuck never had to use the back up and try again option that I remember.  He'll say that he made many mistakes each time, but he corrects for them so quickly that those of us observing the evolution don't see them.  Yes, we may be moving a little slower than a vessel being driven by a more confident and experienced helmsman, but we haven't broken anything or embarrassed ourselves maneuvering the boat in close quarters.  I'm sure I'll do that later.

The marina staff came down to meet us to handle lines, get shore power hooked up, and pass the fuel hose.  We got safely in the slip and had lines over in the hands of the marina staff and Chuck asked from the fly bridge, "Have you got it?"  One of the marina staff quickly shot back, "NO," with a "are you kidding?" tone in his voice to let Chuck know that they weren't going to get the boat where it needed to be by pulling it.  Why not?  Too big?  Ha!  Instead, they gave a few commands or requests to bump the engines forward so that the boat could be tied in the slip at the appropriate place, and then they said the engines could be shutdown.

We'd never fueled the boat before, so that was a learning experience.  Heck, most everything I do with the boat is a learning experience, and that's uncomfortable when there's so much at stake, but that's part of the "fun" of boating.

Anyway, back to the fueling.  Scott was there to help me, and he pointed out that we should have the oil absorbing 'rags' handy to catch and mop up any spills.  There is a scupper beneath the fuel ports that we plugged with one of the rags.  I told the man at the pump how much fuel I thought I'd take, and he planned to warn me about 20 gallons before getting there so that we could be watching for the end and catch any overflow. The first tank took much less fuel than I'd expected, so Scott was surprised by a quick burp of the tank that pushed out a tiny bit of fuel as the handle shut off.  Since we were ready for it, the fuel was easily cleaned up.

Even though we knew my fuel estimates we way off, we were similarly suprised when the other tank became full and burped out a bit more fuel.  Again, the cleanup was easy.  I'll calculate actual the fuel usage later and let you know, but I'm already very happy that the average fuel flow rate throughout the trip was much less than expected.

I feel all of the women other than my wife nodding off, so I'll move on.

While there was no parade, Danielle was waiting to pick up Todd, and I'm sure that she was parade enough for him. He was packed and ready to go when we pulled in, but he stuck around to help us with chores until he felt he'd done all he could and we were ready to clean up for dinner.

I'm very glad that he was able to share the offshore portion of this adventure with me, and I think he had a good time even though he's disappointed that we didn't see any sharks or a whale of any kind.  He saw lots of dolphins and flying fish - more than he wanted - but not those other items on his list.  Oh well, he'll have reason to return and do it again.

The three remaining crewman cleaned up, walked around town until we found a place we wanted to eat, and shared a victory meal and adult beverages.  While there were chores to accomplish, the intentions to get them done before going to bed were overtaken by the strain of the last few days, and we all agreed to go to bed and attack them in the morning.

Being safe in Beaufort, getting Todd on his way home as planned, sharing a meal with Chuck and Scott, and retiring for a good night's sleep combined to make the day the best we've had so far.  The part of the day that earned it its worst rating doesn't seem so bad anymore and will be soon forgotten - except in the stories that we'll tell about it that will get scarier and longer and . . . well, you know how that goes.

Now we've left Beaufort and are heading for the Alligator River.  There's a large body of water called Albemarle Sound that we won't be able to cross before nightfall, so we'll spend the night on the southern side of the Sound in Alligator River and then start across the Sound fresh in the morning.

More to come.

Greg

Back on the grid!

We lost cell service shortly after going offshore.  Todd said that he was still texting until midnight, but the success rate became less and less until it just drpoped off completely around 12 miles offshore.

We're aware of the stress that not knowing causes our friends and loved ones after being out of the constant contact mode that we're used to these days, so we're doing our best to mneuver close enough to a well-popuated shoreline to get cell coverage.  It's 0930 Thursday morning, and even though we've hit our mark at the time planned, we apparently overestimated the cell coverage in this area.  We're off Hilton Head about 15 miles without coverage, but we've turned to angle closer to the coast while continuing homeward until we can do a data dump and let everyone know that we're doing great.

After noon today will mark 2 days underway, 3 quarters of that out of contact, and everything - absolutely EVERYTHING - is going great.  The crew has settled into the 4-on/4-off watch rotation, and the boat is performing as we knew she could, even though the owner is still learning how she works.

With a 4-on/4-off schedule, everybody has stood several watches by now.  All of us are getting sleep when we can, but we'll all be tired when this is done.  Each person on the crew has found their niche, talent, or area of interest and is focused on that area, keeping everyone else informed of what's going on.  For example, I try to do most of the engine room checks, because I've spent the most time down there and will know before anyone else when something's not right.  While I may take short naps throughout the day, I'm keyed to go down to the engine room every two hours.  I note what I find each time I check so that anyone can see what's been going on in my area, and everyone else has been down to the engine room with me, so they know generally what to look for, where to find it, and how to record it.  Everyone else is doing simalarly but focused on their "thing."

We're planning to pull into Beaufort, NC, Friday afternoon.  Todd's girfriend, Danielle, will meet us there.  Todd will definitely leave with Danielle at that time, but I'm not sure what Scott's plans are.  He may elect to leave then or continue on with Chuck and me until a later stopping point.  That will all be worked out with family before we get to Beaufort.

Now that our AIS is working and we've been in the system for a few days, you can use an application like Boat Watch or Ship Finder to locate us.  I don't know anything about them, so I'm not recommending either one, but try them out yourself.  Branwen's call sign is WDH9878.

We've been connected for a few hours, but I've had my own personal connectivity issues.  Sorry there aren't photos, but I'm anxious to get this sent and will add pictures later when I have my personal problems resolved.

Greg.