| Travels of Dursmirg Vol. 1 Chapter 8 |
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CHAPTER 8
INTO THE GREAT ATLANTIC OCEAN AND SOUTHWARD TO THE TROPICAL BALMY BRINY BREEZES
The lady standing so majestically with her raised torch held high bid us farewell. “The Statue of Liberty” was a party
of one to see us off into that great wide openness that opened yet another door and turned another page in our
adventure that would also be another learning experience.
No matter how much we studied or how many classes we attended we were now going to receive a lesson in reality
with our own actions and on our own boat.
Though I had been boating all of my life and even been out to sea this would be my first time to be at the helm with
the salt spray coming over the bow of my own vessel.
The day was cool, the wind blustery and the seas uninviting but this was the road we would have to travel to get
where we were going. We were going south to escape the winter for one good reason. We had both spent all of our
lives living in a cold climate. I couldn’t help but think of what Jane’s grandfather always used to say, “I want to die in
the fall so that I don’t have go through another cold winter.” My family back in Norway used to describe winter as the
“tunnel”. They used to say, “We are entering the tunnel or leaving the tunnel but we are always in the tunnel”.
The Dursmirg was now in saltwater and this was where it was destined to spend the remainder of its life.
At this time and in this season we were the only pleasure boat departing the Port of New York. As we nosed out into
that briny sea and our Dursmirg glided through those swells, the smell and color were strange and different to us
because we had never sailed upon the ocean in these northern latitudes before.
We took our departure from the ships channel at the sea buoy and turned south. At that moment it felt like we had at
least fulfilled our dreams and we had an unknown agenda ahead that would take us to all new places with the added
advantage of going at our own pace.
The small port of Manasquan, New Jersey looked like it would be a suitable place to spend the night so we turned
into the short entry channel and inquired for dockage at the marina just before the railroad bridge. We were out of
luck, there were no more rental slips available and it was suggested that we anchor out for the night. Jane and I
sized up the anchorage spot and then spoke to the people aboard the one boat anchored there. They said that they
didn’t recommend another boat anchoring because the swinging room was very limited. Well, we being new to this
land of changing tides and swift currents thought that we might as well just tie to the adjacent sea wall.
There was a little town park and the place looked very inviting to us. There were no cleats or bollards to tie to on the
sea wall and that should have been a signal to us to beware.
The night was pleasant enough but at about four in the morning the first sport fishing boat came screaming by with
its hull speed adjusted to produce the maximum wake.
We were pitched hard and solidly against the sea wall with a resounding crash. We both went out to see what and
who could be doing such a thing on this quiet and peaceful morning.
No sooner did we get topsides and we had to jump to the sea wall to fend off from yet another one of these hell
bent, huge wake producing sport fishing boats. It was like a parade that had no end, the boats only increased in
number. We finally gave up at sunrise and joined that procession of boats out the harbor entrance.
October 22nd 1972 was going to be a very long day out to sea.
The New Jersey coast did not have a particularly scenic silhouette and as I have said before, “out to sea you can
see along way but you can’t see much.” The low coastline was packed with beach houses and they all sat on a low
narrow barrier island that was backed by a lagoon.
Progress was slow all day and it was nine hours before we finally began our trip into the Atlantic City harbor entry.
We were tired and ready to get some sleep so we headed to the city marina and rented a slip for the night. This
place had an over abundance of vacant slips for rent and we had our pier almost to ourselves.
The dock master asked if we needed to go ashore for anything and if we did, he told us not to go alone and not at
all after dark without a police escort. Well, we for sure got the message that this was not the better end of New
Jersey. After a shower we were ready to catch up on the sleep we had been cheated out of back at Manasquan by
the “sport fishing boats” with their out of control wakes.
Oh, by the way!
In 1972, when we arrived in Atlantic City, it was yet to be developed with its gambling casinos and was in desperate
need of some urban renewal projects.
Some ten years later we paid this place a visit by land and we couldn’t believe the transformation that had taken
place with all of the glitter and glitz that went with the huge decadent casinos that stood one after another far down
the beach. We also noted that back inland from the casinos stood the old undeveloped run down slummy tenements
that had the appearance of crime ridden slums.
Back to our travels;
October 23rd, 1972 after a sound nights sleep we were off to see more of the world. This day we pounded into a
choppy sea and took many a wave over the bow on our way south to Cape May, New Jersey.
It was after dark when we began our approach to the Cape May channel. The seas that were coming over our bow
gave us a new experience after dark as we were seeing the phosphorescence of the seawater with its millions of tiny
sea creatures. I just had to walk forward to watch as our bow cut through the seas and the affect of those sea
creatures illuminating the water of our bow wake as it broke through the oncoming waves.
When we got into the harbor we noticed that not all of our running lights were in working condition and took the first
opportunity to pull over and tie up. The first dock we came to was the Coast Guard Station dock.
We told the personal there of our problem and asked if it would be O.K. to stay tied at their dock until daylight.
There seemed to be no problem with that so we got ready to spend the night. We had a good time talking with the
men of the Coastguard and discovered that many were from places in the United States far removed from any salt
water. They were a very friendly bunch and wanted someone to talk to.
I don’t know how the subject came up but they wanted to tell us of all of the sharks that roamed the area waters of
Cape May. Someone had just caught a 26-footer with a roll of tar paper in its stomach. Another story they told was
of when they had been out on patrol the previous Sunday and were about twenty-five miles offshore they spotted a
swimmer. The story was that this person had just been pitched overboard by his friends and abandoned; that was a
death sentence.
While we were talking and exchanging stories word came down from the office that we were to be escorted away to
another dock. That was fine with us and away we went following a small Coast Guard cutter with lots of flashing
lights. They escorted us to a dock that was in front of a very nice restaurant named, “Cape May Lobster House”. We
tied to the dock for the night. As soon as we had secured our boat I invited the Coast Guard crew aboard our vessel
for a beer. We had a keg of beer with a spigot in the galley. They liked that a lot and we had a good time
exchanging more stories.
October 24th as Jane and I were having our after breakfast coffee I noticed a man peering in through our porthole
from the dock. I thought that was curious and he thought that our boat was curious. Well, I just went and invited him
aboard for coffee.
This was Captain Charles Young of the Black Diamond Steamship Lines, (retired). He had more questions than a
thousand wise men could answer. We hit it off well and we both had many a story to tell.
Captain Young wanted to show us some of the area around Cape May and we all took off in his car for a guided
tour. First to his house, he lived alone, and then down to visit the boardwalk and next out to “Sunset Beach” to see
the local attraction of a cement boat from World War I.
Oh, by the way!
Back in Superior, Wisconsin I had been the vice president of the local Optimist Club. When it became known that I
was building a Ferro-cement boat one of the members made a presentation to me of a large poster depicting the
following sight:
Back to Captain Young and our tour:
This was the sight that the Captain wanted to show us. We were absolutely astonished at the coincidence because
for some time before we had finished building our boat we had the poster depicting the above scene hanging at our
home back in Superior.
The Lobster House Restaurant didn’t charge us any dockage fee so we thought that we should at lead
patronize them for a meal.
October 26th we were under way again. We retraced our path out the entry we had entered because of a low
bridge that wouldn’t permit us to use a short cut passage into the Delaware Bay.
It was a bright and sunny day and the fall weather seemed to be turning into an “Indian Summer”. This morning we
would be treated to yet another sea going experience that we hadn’t encountered before.
Our position and course put us exactly where we were supposed to be with plenty of water under our keel. What
happened next was totally amazing to us. We, for no apparent reason, began to spin around in a circle rapidly and
out of control. Then I noticed that the water was of two distinctive different colors right where we were sailing. We
had just crossed a tidal rip, or rip current. This is a phenomenon that takes place as the tide turns and this line
moves along. On one side of the line marked by the two different colors of water the tide is flooding and on the other
the tide is ebbing.
We observed another boat nearby encounter the tidal rip current and sure enough they took a sharp turn but
obviously they were accustomed to these waters and quickly corrected their course.
Our plan was to travel up the Delaware Bay to the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, cross it and then sail down the
Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk, Virginia.
This night after studying the chart and our options we decided that we would just pull far off the shipping channel
and anchor up for the night, which we did. We were very lucky that the weather cooperated and there was no boat
traffic. In fact it turned out to be just wonderful to be far from any civilization and out in that world of our own.
October 27th we didn’t get under way unto 10:05 that morning because of heavy and dense fog. When the day
cleared into a beautiful fall day, it made us happy to be there.
We made our turn off the Delaware Bay into the C and D Canal that connects the Delaware Bay with the
Chesapeake Bay. I had never heard of this canal before and until we came this way I had no idea of its existence.
Oh, by the way!
From my previous studies of geography and history the only place that conjured up any memories of this area was
my recollection of General George Washington crossing the Delaware Bay with his troops to surprise the British in
the Revolutionary War. A famous painting always comes to mind that depicts General George Washington standing
in the bow of his boat and pointing the way as his men rowed that little open boat through the ice packed waters of
the bay.
We discovered that the C and D Canal, (Chesapeake and Delaware Canal), had a rich history that dated far back
into the country’s history and was operational in 1829.
Back to our travels;
A more beautiful fall day couldn’t be imagined. A warm breeze, bright sun and the fall colored leaves made the day
one that made us both happy to have escaped the work-a-day world and we were together to explore these strange
new places that held adventures each and every day.
The big ship traffic was the biggest surprise to us and we almost always had one or two of those big “salty” ships in
our view, either coming or going in the C and D Canal.
We found a nice place to tie up for the night within the canal at Chesapeake City, Maryland. The Schaefer’s Marine
dock at Chesapeake City was near to the western end of the canal, which made it a nice place to stop at 3 PM that
afternoon. We still had plenty of time to explore the area and put our bicycles ashore to see the local attractions. I
was happy that Jane had got us started with bicycles because they made our cruising so much more fun with
transportation every place we went. Many times and many places we would anchor offshore and take our bicycles to
shore by dinghy to explore.
Well, it was very rural countryside here that we enjoyed and we did find a nice little park dedicated to the history of
the canal that enlightened us about a lot of the local history.
In the photo above is Schaefer’s Marina where we tied our boat and the bridge we bicycled across to
visit the C&D Canal museum.
This evening we treated ourselves to a luxurious dinner at the restaurant at Schaefer’s Marina. The restaurant was
laid out to present a view of the canal to all of the patrons. Each time one of the many ships that would pass pulled
into view an announcer would give a very pleasant description about that vessel over the sound system; the name
of the vessel, its home port, its size and draft, its last port, the cargo it was carrying, and where it was destined to go
for its next port. The announcer even gave a description of our boat and a little history of our trip.
The next day we had visitors, Marge Evans and her daughter Jackie. They had been friends back in Superior,
Wisconsin and Marge and her ex-husband had even given us a hand in the construction of our boat.
You can see by the photo below that it was definitely fall, and that many of the leaves had already fallen from the
trees. It was a good day to visit and not to travel because we had rainy and cold weather. Our boat was warm, dry
and cozy so this Saturday worked out fine. Marge was now living nearby where she had a teaching job so this was
the perfect place and time to get together.
Marge Evans, Jackie Evans and Jane at Chesapeake City, Maryland.
October 30th we left Schaefer’s Marina at Chesapeake City on our way to our next stop, the capital city of
Annapolis, Maryland.
At 3:45 PM that afternoon we pulled into a marina in the downtown section of Annapolis, Maryland and there we
were advised that it would be best for us to anchor in the harbor. At 4:30 we were swinging on our anchor right in
the middle of the harbor. The view was really spectacular with so many historical sights in view including the Military
Academy.
We had several reasons for visiting Annapolis. One was that in Annapolis the marine supply stores stocked
everything that a sailor could ever dream of and a lot more. We also thought that we would like to visit some of the
historical sights of which the town was filled. Seafood restaurants were also a big draw here and we would try a few.
Downtown Annapolis waterfront and one of the marine hardware stores we made several purchases at,
Fawcett Marine Hardware Co.
A pleasant surprise was to find anchored nearby our old traveling companions from the Erie Canal and New York
City, George and Bella Truston. This would be great!
That very afternoon we struck off with George Jr. and his sister Ruth. The kids couldn’t wait to be our tour guides
and kept us on the move until dark.
This is the Nation’s first peacetime capital building. It is one of many historical buildings in this old city
that was part of the original “13 Colonies”.
This town was going to take some of our money, and we started by purchasing a couple of anchors. Then we visited
Bacon and Associates; this was going to prove to be one of the companies that we would continue to do business
with over the years. We loved the place because they bought and sold new and used sails plus a wide variety of
marine hardware. We bought two used sails that day and we were very happy with the sails, service and the prices.
The people there were very helpful and were experts at appraising the condition of a sail. Besides buying two sails
we got a real education from the helpful service people there. We were still taking lessons in nautical knowledge and
would continue to do so as long as we sailed. (Now I have the knowledge to design a real “dream boat”.)
October 31st was a cold Halloween day and that night we had a surprise visit by some of our boating neighbors.
When we went out on deck to see who was calling our name we were surprised by the sight we encountered. There
in a small dinghy were four adults and a huge jack-o-lantern artfully carved with a funny face that was illuminated by
a candle from within. We invited the soon to be friends aboard and we all had some beer from our keg that sat in our
bilge. Woody and Debbi Watkinson aboard the sailboat “Freyja” would be crossing our sailing path many times over
the next few years all of the way to Key West, Florida.
The waterfront dinghy boat landing at Annapolis was not the place that the pillars of the community hung out. Jane
and I didn’t linger there very long after dark when the heroin addicts came there to “shoot-up”.
November 2nd we left the outer harbor at Annapolis and continued south down the Chesapeake Bay. This was
real sailboat country and as we were leaving Annapolis the view ahead looked like a maze of sailboats that was
impenetrable.
As we approached we just slipped through the pack of boats that were engaged in some kind of a race that
crisscrossed our course for departure.
The Chesapeake Bay is not just for pleasure sailing boats. As we sailed along we got the opportunity to see the
skipjacks, which are low silhouette, shallow draft commercial oyster fishing vessels working to harvest their catch.
They were developed from the lines of the Chesapeake Bay Log Canoe, the Brogan, and the famous Clipper Ships.
They are unique to the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia, and the few remaining skipjacks still dredge oysters
under sail during the fall and winter oyster season on the Chesapeake Bay.
Oyster harvesting on the skipjacks is done with hand-operated tongs. As we watched these men engaged in the
process of retrieving the oysters, we were thoroughly impressed with their physical efforts. They must have had
arms and backs of steel. Also consider that they didn’t just crank their engine and power back to the dock. They
hoisted the sails, trimmed them and then man handled their catch. We got physically exhausted just watching the
whole process.
Fishing was big business in the Chesapeake and we couldn’t believe how this bay could possibly support the
intense fishing that was going on. The next type of commercial fishing we saw was coordinated by spotter airplanes
that would fly up and down the bay looking for schools of “menhaden” fish.
An explanation of Menhaden fishing.:
Menhaden, which are too oily and bony to eat, are caught for industrial purposes. They are sold as bait or they can
be processed into an oil used in printing ink, plastics, building materials, and animal feed. For this to be profitable,
many thousands of menhaden must be caught at once, far more than one person could handle.
Watermen may call menhaden by the nicknames of "bunker," "bug eye," or "pogie." Menhaden swim near the
surface of the water in schools as large as a football field. A small striker boat locates the school of menhaden out in
the bay. The mother vessel drops two smaller purse seine boats into the water. Holding opposite ends of a very long
net, the two boats travel in a circle around the school of menhaden, trapping the fish inside the net. Then the net is
pursed, or closed at the bottom.
In years past, the mother vessel would use its mechanical arms to raise the nets full of fish. Today, huge suction
vacuums will pull the fish out of the closed net directly into refrigerated containers on the larger boat. The striker
boat has been replaced by an airplane and most purse seine fishing today is done by large companies, not
independent watermen.
Oh, by the way!
The ecosystem of the Chesapeake Bay waters extends inland for two hundred miles from the Atlantic Ocean and is
between 4 and 40 miles wide and produces an unfathomable quantity of marine life that includes oysters, crabs and
various species of commercially harvestable fish.
Many things have been reducing the harvests of seafood from the Chesapeake Bay over the years; over fishing,
industrial and agricultural pollution, and recently a couple of new problems have come along. The Federal
Government mandated that all boats operating on inland waters would be required to treat their sewage discharge
with a special chemical to eliminate the spread of disease. That special chemical contained formaldehyde that in
turn destroyed the crab and oyster crops of the bay. Another thing that is on going is the use of lawn treatment
chemicals sold by all garden centers that eventually goes directly into the bay waters with each rain.
Back to out trip;
We sailed into the Patuxent River and dropped our anchor in 23 feet of water by 4:30 PM that afternoon. The note
from our logbook stated; “Rough ride at anchor with 80 mile an hour winds!”
November 3rd we continued our trip south down the bay to the Great Wicomico River, which is situated just south
of the mouth of the Potomac River. We pulled into the little bay and as I attempted to set the anchor by putting the
engine in reverse nothing happened. The sickening discovery that our transmission was dead and unresponsive to
all of our proddings sent me to our next alternative…that was get some help.
I lowered our dinghy from its davits and took a trip to a small marina that resembled a commercial fishing dock.
There to my surprise was docked the sailboat “By George”. George, Bella and their kids were again to cross our
paths. Running into them again was more than coincidental. I told them of our problem and plight and asked if they
hade any ideas. George and I went to the office to find out if there was a specialist in Borg Warner marine
transmissions near by. I was put on the phone to a nearby repair facility and asked a few pertinent questions. The
conclusion was made I had been sold a transmission that was designed to turn in the opposite direction. They told
me that this had happened before and that I was in affect running in reverse continuously to go forward. The fact
was that the propeller we were using was a right hand propeller and we should be using a left hand propeller. The
solution was to remove the transmission and bring it to their shop where they would be able to replace all of the
seals and gaskets. I would then have to change our propeller to make the transmission perform correctly.
I had a problem of logistics because the repair yard we would have to use was located six miles up the Great
Wicomico River at a little town named, “Burgess, Virginia”. Next, I had another turn of luck when a man I had met up
on the Erie Canal from Quebec came in to the marina, heard my story and insisted that he tow our boat up the river.
Andres and his two lovely daughters were anchored in front of the marina and we could get under way at once.
Andres tied alongside our boat and we proceeded up river at a very slow pace, but we were underway and there
was hope.
We didn’t reach Burgess until just before dark and our slow ride gave us time to get acquainted.
Andres told us his reason for leaving his good government job and departing to start a new life. He had enough of
the confinements and lack of adventure plus he felt saddled with heavy responsibilities while many people in
Quebec were just gliding along and living off the efforts of others…he was out of there…period!
Andres’ boat that towed us up the Great Wicomico River to Burgess, Virginia.
It would be a week before we would move again under our own power on November10th.
November 4th in this quiet little harbor in rural Virginia we had peace and tranquility. We were happy not to be in
some crime ridden big city or at the mercy of the elements in some unprotected waters.
If we had to be stranded any place this place was just about as good as it gets. It wasn’t tropical here but our boat
was well insulated and we had our fireplace when we wanted it. The diesel fuel powered galley stove produced
enough heat that we had more than enough warmth for this climate. This was a good place to be and we were
happy to be here. As I have many times said, “anywhere Jane and I are together we are home”.
As soon as I had my breakfast I was in the bilge with my wrenches and cable come- along. The transmission was
disconnected and hoisted with the cable come-along to the deck by 9:00 AM. Using the boom from our main mast it
was quickly swung overboard and ratcheted down to our waiting dinghy for its trip to shore and the repair shop.
Odis B. Cockrell at the Glebe Point Boat Company was the one to take care of all of our transmission needs and he
also arranged to get us another propeller of the proper size and pitch.
I should mention here that the Glebe Point Boat Company was the producer of luxury yachts made from wood. They
had a distinctive hull design that allowed these yachts to enter very shallow water because of their recessed
propellers. There was a backlog of orders and the Cockrells would be kept busy in their “mom and pop” yacht
building business for many years to come.
When it came time to install the new propeller they lent me a scuba tank. We tied our boat to their dock so that we
would be in shallow enough water so that if I should drop anything it could at least be easily retrieved. That project
was difficult and I came close to collapsing from hypothermia. Jane had to actually pull me from the water, and then
she had to assist me inside because I was trembling uncontrollable from bodily heat loss. Putting the new propeller
on was no problem. The removal of the old one was because swinging a hammer under water is nearly
ineffectual…but I did it.
Our one-week stay at Burgess, Virginia was really wonderful. We met a very interesting couple that had retired here
in a bayfront home. Augie and Lenora Bialkowski made it a point of getting to know us. Augie was retired from his
glass business in Richmond, Virginia and he was also a WW I veteran. Lenora was a retired nurse and she was a
veteran of WW II.
Lenora met us as we came ashore and wanted to know what we were doing. We related our story to her and she
then insisted that we come to their house for lunch that day. She was very insistent so we obliged her and it was
great fun. We met her husband Augie and we all had lots of stories and jokes to exchange.
Lenora took us on a driving tour that afternoon to see the local sights. The great claim to fame of Burgess, Virginia
was that this was the birthplace of Martha Washington, the wife of our first president. Lenora was somehow related
to her along with most or the residents of the area including the owners of the Glebe Point Boat Company, the
Cockrells.
Jane and I were both impressed with the beauty of the countryside with all of the farms that produced mostly tobacco
and soybeans. Lenora also took us to an oyster processing plant where the boats pulled in with their catch and then
the oysters were shucked. We got a demonstration. Evidentially the speed of the shuckers is a thing of great pride
and we got to watch the last year’s champion in action. Yes, this big lady was fast. The workers are paid by volume
so naturally the faster they work the more money they make.
That night we had to return to Augie and Lenora’s home for an oyster dinner and we both got the opportunity to
sample our first really fresh fried oysters. The meal was fabulous and we couldn’t seem to get enough of those
delectable little creatures. We stayed to play cards with them and tell more stories. Rummy was their game and it
was great fun for all.
Lenora insisted that we come the next morning for breakfast, which was to be a local surprise.
These spunky senior citizens were still living in the “fast lane” as we found out when we stepped through their door
the next morning and were handed a tall glass of tomato juice. Well, it wasn’t just tomato juice. It turned out to be a
very stiff “Bloody Mary” heavily laced with alcohol. This was enough to get your bodily motor revved up and also
remove the feeling of any pain.
The local specialty for breakfast turned out to be something we would have for breakfast for many a year to come.
Spoon bread was the main dish. This was made from corn flour, eggs and milk and baked in the oven. The rest of
the meal was fried fish. “Grunts” were a type of fish that was caught from the Chesapeake on southward into
Florida…we over the years had the opportunity to eat many of these tasty little fish, and loved them.
Here is the “Spoon Bread” recipe, a regional specialty of rural Virginia
This is copied directly from Jane’s original files.
Set the oven at 500 degrees and place well greased 2 quart casserole in oven.
2 eggs
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of corn meal
1 ½ tsp. baking powder
1 cup of buttermilk
2 cups of boiling water
Beat eggs, add milk, into this sift all dry ingredients, mix well. Pour boiling water over this and mix. Pour into greased
dish. Bake 20 to 25 minutes.
(As dictated by; Lenora Bialkowski)
We had a new home with Augie and Lenore and over the course of the following week we were together most of the
time and we hated to say good-by when we finally left.
November 10th we had our boat operational again and we reluctantly bid our good-byes to all of our newfound
friends in this little out-of –the-way slice of paradise that we had the time to come to love.
This stopover was costly in money but the rewards of lessons learned and friends made would give us warm and
wonderful memories for the rest of our years.
I have often said, “You never know when someone is doing you a favor”. Well, adversity may point you in a different
direction that is far better than the track you originally struck out on.
Our stopover at Burgess, Virginia proved to be just such a lesson in a change of direction of our lives. We had not
at all planned this, but our future years would be better in many ways for the time we were given here to see this
other dimension of life.
As we sailed on down the Chesapeake we felt inspired as though we had entered a wonderful new era that was free
of that other world we had struggled so very hard to escape. Yes, we were in a new world, a wonderful and different
new world.
The little spot we pulled into for the night isn’t on most maps. The Piankatan River was just right, and it met our
needs of a quiet place to drop our hook.
November 11th we resumed our trip south down the Chesapeake and as we approached Norfolk, Virginia we
realized that we were no longer in a quiet part of the world as the number of channel markers became like a maze as
various channels all converged in the lower bay area.
Fall weather was with us again and the high winds and dark skies gave us resolve to keep moving south.
The sights of the Norfolk-Newport News harbor were shockingly out of proportion with what we had seen so far in our
travels. This harbor contained the biggest of the big sea going vessels. The US Navy had their mothball fleet here
plus several old out of service cruise liners were also docked here.
Crossing the Norfolk harbor
We just found an out of the channel spot that had some protection from the wind and dropped the anchor for the
night at 5:05 PM that afternoon. This was an industrial end of the world and not the kind of place to find pleasure
boats.
This evening we had a decision to make. We now had two choices ahead of us. We could choose to take the Dismal
Swamp route. It was the oldest continuously operated canal in the US that was constructed back in 1784 by General
George Washington or we could take the Albemarle Sound route that had one lock known as “Virginia Cut”.
We decided on the Virginia Cut because there was some question about shallow waters and also lots of floating
debris in the Dismal Swamp route.
November 12th we were under way by nine, the weather was noticeably cool and the sky clear and we went
through our first bridge that morning. This lift railroad bridge was at the wrong place at the wrong time for us. It was
situated in a sharp curve in the river and the morning sun this Sunday morning clipped me directly in the eyes as we
made our approach to the bridge. Just as we entered within the fenders I was blinded. No matter how I strained I
could not see ahead. I called for Jane’s help and somehow we went through but I couldn’t see the bridge. It would
have made a terrible mess of our boat if we had slammed the bridge.
Just down the Virginia Cut a ways we came to another bridge and this time just as we were passing the center span
a large overpowered houseboat came through from our rear leaving a very destructive wake that sent our boat
wildly out of control. Again we luckily made it without a collision. I should add here that one of the rules of boating
clearly states that there is no passing within the bridge fenders.
The lock we went through on the Virginia Cut didn’t seem worth the effort because we only changed our level by
several inches. The lock was there to reduce the current flow and not necessarily to gain or lose altitude.
At 3:55 PM we arrived at Coinjock, North Carolina and we docked at Harrison’s Marina. If you were in this stretch of
the Virginia Cut your options were limited as far as stopping places…this was it…period!
There were no anchorages and no other marinas. We had sticker shock at the price of dockage. Twenty cents a
foot at that time was unheard of and most places if you bought your fuel the dockage was no-charge…not here.
I needed a quart of lubricating oil and the price was two dollars. I had never paid more than fifty cents before.
We decided to take a walk and have some dinner. We asked the lady that was pumping diesel fuel if a restaurant
was near. She told us that the local restaurant was good and that we needed to try their fried fish dinner. When we
asked directions she pointed and said that it was, “just a potato’s throw”.
My God those people must be able to throw a potato a long way! We walked and walked and walked some more.
Yes, we arrived just at dark and asked for their fried fish dinner.
We received two small fish each and they were fried head, tail and all. The only thing that made this meal
memorable was the fact that it was exceptionally ho-hum at best.
One new thing that we started to encounter in our boating from here to south Florida was the “push boat”. These 3
or 4 story high vessels plied the waters of the Intercostal Waterway with their several thousand horsepower motors.
They moved both day and night. Here at Coinjock, as we were tied to the dock parallel to the waterway, we had
several of these vessels and their loads pass by. We couldn’t help but notice because each time one would pass by
they had to sound their horn to open the bridge that crossed the Intercoastal Waterway near our marina. Their
horns would put the horn of a diesel locomotive to shame for loudness. At night they have searchlights that
continuously flash back and forth from bank to bank with several thousand candlepower that could be seen for many
miles off in the distance.
(A push boat uses its bow to push barges through the water versus tugboats that pull their barges or loads with a
towline and are usually used offshore in the ocean.)
Push boat and barge
Oh, by the way!
Here is a short story about a dear friend of ours, Lancy Burn, who many years before worked for R.J. Reynolds as a
tugboat operator. This was the same R.J. Reynolds that had the tobacco empire and also owned a large plantation
on Sapelo Island, South Carolina.
One day as Lancy Burn was piloting a tugboat that was pulling a barge full of cattle through the Intracoastal
Waterway, he approached a lift bridge at Saint Simons Island. This is one of the “Sea Islands”, where the tidal
currents are very strong.
He sounded his horn with the appropriate three blasts to open the bridge and nothing happened. Again and again
he tried to get the bridge to open. Finally he had to make the choice to turn his tug to avoid a collision with the
bridge that wouldn’t open. With the current swiftly running with him as he closed in on the bridge his timing was
crucial.
At the last second he swung the helm hard over and brought his tugboat back up against the current.
Well, that barge load full of cattle was spun around as the towline snatched the barge in the opposite direction and
the net result was that some of the cattle fell down and the rest went into a stampede.
Mr. Burn told me that when he finally got to the dock the cattle that had fallen over were squashed down to a mush
only four inches thick.
My comment on the tidal currents in this part of the country was that, “you could water ski behind an anchored boat”.
Back to our travels;
November 13th was a delightful day to be heading south and the weather seemed to finally be improving as we
cast off from the dock at Coinjock, North Carolina.
We would be entering one of our first “big sounds” this morning. In this part of the country the bays are referred to
as “sounds”.
As we ventured south the river got wider and wider as we approached Albemarle Sound.
This is indeed a large body of water and it was the kind of place that the prudent navigator pays close attention to
his compass course because of the frequent and sudden appearance of fog, especially this time of year.
We next entered a very wide river named Alligator River where the population is almost nonexistent. The reason for
no people is that the land is all marsh and very low scrub mixed with cypress tree savannahs called hammocks
subject to tidal flooding.
This afternoon we were enchanted by the lovely weather and decided to just pull over off the main channel and
anchor up for the evening in this wild wilderness.
Before dark a small single masted sailboat, named African Queen III, came slowly sailing up and asked if we minded
him anchoring next to us for the night. We had no objection and invited this obviously “hippie” over to be sociable.
This guy, David W., was traveling alone and his destination was Key West, Florida where he told us he could be
found at “Howie’s Lounge”.
David was a tremendous artist and he did a pencil sketch of me to prove it.
The night was just too good to be true and the water was like a sheet of glass and almost mystical as though we
were totally devoid of any civilization…there wasn’t a single light to be seen anywhere.
The next morning early it was payback time with the weather. The wind piped up to a gale force wind that persisted.
The next thing we knew was that David on the “African Queen III” was adjacent to our stern. We went out to see what
was happening. David’s anchor line was under our boat and his boat was in the process of slamming into our boat
with real force driven by the wind and seas that had already built.
In just seconds our dinghy line parted and it was gone downwind like a child’s inflatable toy spirited off with the wind.
Next, David’s anchor line parted but not before his bow cleat gouged our boat several times. Jane told David that
she would call the Coast Guard for him because we knew he was alone, had no motor and that his only anchor was
gone.
David was being driven downwind fast by the wind and the last words he shouted to us were, “I don’t need the Coast
Guard”.
We knew that he must have something to hide, like his “smokes” because if you are given any Coast Guard
assistance it is mandatory that your boat be inspected. He clearly didn’t want any inspection.
The storm winds persisted and even built in force. I got on our radio to report our loss to the Coast Guard and also
let them know of David’s dilemma. While I was on the radio with the Coast Guard our anchor line parted and we lost
our anchor and anchor line. Luckily we had another anchor that we could set, which we did.
The Coast Guard I was talking to was from the Cape Hatteras Station, which was very close to our position but out
on the ocean coast. Cape Hatteras is the most treacherous inlet on the entire east coast of the United States. The
chart of that area is crammed with the names of all of the shipwrecks that line the coast there.
Some time passed and the Coast Guard came back to me on the radio with news that they had sent out a helicopter
to look for our dinghy and also assist David if he needed it. They told us that the helicopter didn’t make it to our
position because in route to us it encountered a capsized houseboat and they had to rescue the survivors from the
water. They told us if we hadn’t called them the people from the capsized houseboat probably would not have been
rescued.
The Cape Hatteras Coast Guard told us that David was sailing along and waved away their assistance when they
reached him and that they had spotted our capsized dinghy.
A note about David W.
Two weeks later we were tied to the Savannah Inn and Country Club dock when David and his little boat happened
along. David spotted our boat and came over. When he heard that we weren’t being charged dockage, he tied up
also. David was at that time “spaced out” and we were amazed that he could handle his boat at all. When he walked
the dock he walked off the end just like he thought he could walk on the water. We helped pull him onto the dock.
A year later we met up with this “still spaced out” hippie at Key West, Florida. Sure enough, it was at Howie’s
Lounge. (Jimmy Buffet was the main attraction there), David had a trance like look in his eyes and could hardly
respond to our presence…just a nod. That was the last time we ever saw of David W.
This is the drawing that David W. did of me the night before the storm on the Alligator River, North
Carolina on November 13th, 1972
Here is a letter that Jane wrote to her parents:
1972 Nov 14
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel;
I just got the letter you wrote to me on September 29, yesterday. We picked up our mail at Coinjock, North Carolina.
I just looked at my book that I keep track of the dates I write letters. It says I last wrote October 12. I hope it’s
wrong. In case I haven’t since then we have come down the Hudson River to New York City, down the Atlantic Ocean
to Cape May, New Jersey, (we had a very exciting ride the last 35 miles to Cape May. The Ocean was so rough it
took nine hours to get there. Waves would submerge our deck to the mast.)
We stayed two days at Cape May and met an old sea captain who showed us all around for two days. We then went
up the Delaware Bay and river to Chesapeake City, Maryland where Marge Evens came to see us.
We then sailed to Annapolis, Maryland, spent two days there sight seeing and shopping for things for the boat. We
bought two new anchors, (one which we lost today- I’ll tell you about that later.) After Annapolis we stopped at
several places along the Chesapeake Bay. It’s really beautiful country…we are going to come back and spend a
whole summer. We were just anchoring one night on the Great Wicomico River off Chesapeake Bay when our
transmission burnt up. Next day we found a shop that would rebuild it for us. A sailboat from Montreal, Quebec
towed us five miles up the river where we had to anchor in front of a shop, as the water was too shallow at the dock.
We got the transmission back in running order in 4 days later then we had to have a new propeller. Bing borrowed
some scuba equipment and put it on himself. That’s a real big underwater job. We were tied to the dock then at
another boatyard, owned by the Cockrells, (relatives of George Washington.)
Everyone in the little town of Burgess, Virginia is a Cockrell or related. The people were really great to us. We met a
couple from Richmond, Virginia that have a summer home there. They had us over twice for supper, once for
breakfast and lunch. We played rummy with them and had a great time. They were really nice. We got a letter from
them yesterday. She was an army nurse during World War II and he was a veteran of World War I. Her father used
to work in the lumber mills in Duluth and surrounding area. I ate fried oysters for the first time at their place and
really loved them.
We went to the place where the oyster boats come and saw them cleaned.
In Annapolis, Maryland they still use sailing vessels for getting oysters.
Seafood is very abundant in this area.
From Great Wicomico River we went to Norfolk, Virginia and saw the huge Navy Ships, then to Coinjock, North
Carolina where we picked our mail yesterday.
Last night we anchored at about 45 miles from Coinjock on the Alligator River, 30 miles from Cape Hatteras. Last
night was warm, the water like glass. This morning a gale hit. A sailboat anchored next to us broke his anchor and
smashed into us. It did some damage to our boat and we lost our dingy. We called the Coast Guard because the
other boat was I trouble, (only 24 feet long and one guy alone with no spare anchor).
When we were calling the Coast Guard our anchor broke and that’s how we lost our new anchor. We got another
one out and we are still holding. A helicopter came, found the other sailboat and one life jacket from our dingy.
The Cape Hatteras Coast Guard called and said a surface airplane had spotted our dingy capsized close by.
Tomorrow a boat is coming to help us search for it.
The wind is still real bad at (7 PM), but not a full gale.
The Coast Guard sent one helicopter but it never got here because it spotted two people in the water and rescued
them. If we wouldn’t have had to call, they would never have found them. This is real wilderness and no one lives
here. There was a town nearby but it was wiped out by Cholera a few years ago.
All morning we heard distress calls on the radio. It sounds like the Coast Guard recovered all the people and boats.
The wind is still blowing, Bing and I are going to play some cards and I’ll finish this in the morning.
November 16, 1972
I didn’t get time to finish my letter yesterday.
As it was too rough to search for the dinghy, we decided to move on. We are now 187 miles south of Norfolk
anchored in Cedar Creek, (it’s in North Carolina).Last night we anchored near Belhaven, North Carolina.
We traveled 54 miles today. Tomorrow we’ll stop at Morehead City, North Carolina and check to see if our dingy has
been recovered yet.
We are now a little over 500 miles from the Florida line. We should be there in ten days. Then we will stop and rest
and finish the boat. After Christmas I think some of our friends will be coming down. We also have a lot of people we’
ve met along the way to visit down there.
I got a letter from Grandma, sounds like she had a real nice birthday party. Also I hope Dale is getting along better.
I haven’t heard from Judy, how is she getting along?
I heard that Joan and Dennis didn’t sell the house and are still renting it out. I sure hope that they are making the
payments. I am going to call the bank and check. We haven’t got the money from our house yet either. Ralph finally
sold the Chevy II for us. We got a letter from him the other day too!
I can’t believe that Thanksgiving is only a week away and there is no ice, snow or frost.
Sounds like your garden really did well this year. Now that dad has his Cub tractor I suppose the garden will be
even bigger next year. You’ll probably be in the potato farming business.
I’m glad to hear that Dad is feeling better.
How’s Joel doing?
Thanks for John’s address. I’m going to write to him next.
I have so many letters to write.
Well I better get on with my writing.
I just baked some apple crisp and it was real good.
Hope everyone is doing okay.
Love Jane and Bing
It hardly seems like 5 months since we put the boat in the water.
If you send our mail to John M. Grimsrud
% Jerry Peterson
General Delivery
Bayfield, WI 54814
It won’t have to be forwarded so many times, but our old address is still good.
Back to our travels;
November 15th it was still windy as we upped our anchor and continued south again.
These low lands are hauntingly beautiful with there watery shorelines filled with cypress trees draped in Spanish
moss. It is only boating country and is very isolated because of the lack of land access. We felt like we were alone in
the world here. Except for the occasional push boat that slowly but methodically would first appear far off on the
horizon. Then the push boat would eventually get bigger and bigger until we ultimately passed each other and then
we would watch as it then diminish off behind our stern.
We had an early quit that afternoon when we anchored at a wide place in the waterway at Pungo Creek near an
outpost town named Ponzer, North Carolina. This was wilderness and there was no sign of any civilization any where
in sight. Except for the howling wind, this was a very quiet place.
We enjoyed the flat water and lack of wave action. Jane and I took this time to catch up on correspondence and get
some letters written. Our isolation was profound and once again we had completely new scenery to enjoy. Our new
home was so cozy and everything we had was with us. Now we only needed the time to enjoy it.
November 16th the wind was still blowing strong when Jane got up to look around. She alarmingly announced that
our anchor had dragged during the night. I asked why she was so excited and then I got my answer as our boat
bumped the bottom several times. I hurriedly pulled on my clothes as I went to see the state of our present location. I
caught the view through our porthole of a house trailer next to our boat. Well, there was no house trailer there the
night before when we anchored. God only knew where we had wound up over the course of the night.
(My stock response to those who would ask me our position was; “we are right here”). Jane and I are both trained
navigators and to give the average person the latitude and longitude is usually a complete waste of effort, after all
you always have to be somewhere.
Jane and I took immediate action and cranked the engine and retrieved our anchor that had been fouled by a tin
can. Even the very best of anchors is totally worthless if it becomes fouled and won’t dig into the bottom. We were
still learning about anchors and over that course of our boating career we would have enough anchoring
experiences to fill a book. One fact that we soon came to recognize was that the bigger the anchor the better we
slept.
Our blustery weather persisted as we continued south. The strong currents and high winds took much of the
pleasure out of “pleasure boating” on a day like this. If I had it to do over again we would have anchored up in some
snug harbor and let the wind blow itself out of business. We had a desire to escape the northern winter and that
kept us on the move.
This night we anchored in some strong currents near the Neuse River at Cedar Creek. We pulled off into seven feet
of water, which was usually safe from the push boats because they couldn’t navigate in water that shallow.
November 17th the wind had increased in strength again but we decided we might as well continue on, which we
did. That morning we entered Morehead City, which looked like it might be a lovely place to be but this morning the
best we could do was to keep going. The wind had increased to 40 knots as we passed through a large swing bridge
in the downtown area. Just as we cleared the bridge and it closed behind us we heard on the radio that it would not
be opening anymore that day until the winds subsided. We later talked to some people that were coming down the
Intracostal Waterway behind us that said that they couldn’t open the bridge because of the high winds. I guess we
were just lucky. The wind was bad enough but it would have been even a bigger problem to have been turned back
to search for a place to hold up on such a day as this.
This afternoon at 1 PM we docked at the Esso Marina in Swansboro, North Carolina. We were happy to quit for the
day. This is where we had our mail forwarded to so we went to the post office to get it that afternoon.
When we got our mail we were surprised that we hadn’t received several checks that we were expecting.
We were about out of cash. We then went to the local bank and they told us that we wouldn’t be able to cash a
check until the following morning and that we would then have to call our own bank back in Superior, Wisconsin to
clear it.
All we could then do was wait.
We told the marina owner our plight and we believe that previous travelers must had used a similar story on him
because we got the feeling that he felt like we were trying to dupe him.
There were two other boats tied to the dock now and one was a boat we had seen back in Annapolis, Maryland. It
was the Freyja and sure enough there were Woody and Debbi, our acquaintances from that Halloween evening.
Also docked at the dock was a couple from Jacksonville, Florida named Stewart and Nancy Force. We would see
more of these people later on in our travels in Florida.
Stewart and Nancy were bringing their boat to Jacksonville. They were both school teachers and would take off on
weekends and go to where their boat was and then over the weekend sail it as far south as the could. It was slow
going but they were enjoying the adventure and also the experience of all of the sightseeing along the way.
They knew of a good local pizza place and recommended that we all go to give it a try that evening.
Jane and I thought it was a good idea but we were cash strapped. We went to our boat and rummaged through
every place that we could to dig up every stray cent we could find. We got together a handful of change and that
night we all had pizza and beer. We spent the last cent.
November 18th We had our money and left the Esso Marina at Swansboro, North Carolina. The owner of the
marina was very happy to receive his dockage money and showed his appreciation by giving us an armload of
magazines to read.
The Intracostal Waterway followed along the coast just inside a long line of barrier islands on our way this day. We
did encounter a couple of strange and different kinds of bridges in this stretch. Both kinds were floating. One was a
kind of swing-bridge on pontoons. The other was really a barge on a cable. On the last one the vehicles would all
drive aboard the floating barge and then when they were ready to depart a flashing light and a siren would sound
indicating that no boat traffic was to pass. Then a motor on shore would tighten up a cable that the barge was
fastened to and drag it across to the opposite shore. Then the flashing lights and siren would quit and it was then
safe for waterway traffic to resume.
That afternoon as we approached a conventional swing bridge we signaled for it to open and we were surprised that
it opened almost the instant that I finished with my horn blasts. The bridge was situated in a bend of the waterway
and as we drew near we were shocked to see that a huge push boat and barge were bearing down on the bridge
and that there would not be enough room for both of us to pass at the same time. The push boat was going to beat
us to the bridge.
A quick decision had to be made to avoid a terrible collision because there was no way that the push boat or our
boat would be able to stop in time.
I did what I had to do and diverted our boat to the bank. There was no stopping at that point. As we connected with
the bank the bow of our boat lifted as it came to a safe stop.
The push boat went through the bridge and then the bridge began to close. I blew a signal to open the bridge and I
don’t think that the bridge tender thought we would be coming any time soon but we surprised him and ourselves. I
just backed off the bank and we continued on our way. Jane didn’t like those push boats for a number of reasons.
One of which was their huge size and lack of maneuverability, which made us do a lot of pre- planning each time we
would meet one. Later on in our boating experiences we would witness several colossal accidents involving these
push boats.
This afternoon we pulled off the main channel in the Cape Fear River and anchored for the night. The current was
extra brisk in speed especially on the ebb tide. We were treated to a school of porpoises that took special delight in
playfully putting on a show for us as we anchored. I believe that these creatures that have a perpetual smile on their
face have more fun than people do.
November 19th it was not a restful night because of the gushing of water rushing past our hull especially on the
ebb tide. Our VDO Sum-Log that measures our speed and distance through the water racked up many a mile as we
sat anchored over the night. We were up early and underway by 7 AM.
This was going to be a long day on the waterway. We were being prodded along by the cold fall weather and the
hope of some Florida sunshine. That destination kept getting closer and closer as we chugged along.
Oh, by the way!
This night we would be entering yet another state, South Carolina. This was a very historical state in American
history. It was among the original 13 colonies that first started the America we know today. The State was also the
first state to succeed from the Union and start the American Civil War, by far the bloodiest conflict that the United
States of America has ever known. This is the “Heart of Dixie” where after nearly a century and a half since the end
of that terrible war the locals still go into a rage at the mere thought of a “Yankee”. In South Carolina they are
known as “Damn Yankees” to this day. As much as I hate this next word “nigger” I soon found out that that there was
one thing worse than a “nigger” in South Carolina and that was a “Damn Yankee”…well we are Yankees because for
one thing we talk funny. In 1972 a Yankee accent could still get you lynched in the “Heart of Dixie”.
Back to our travels;
Our next adventure was about to begin.
We were slowly overtaking a huge push boat and long string of barges that it was pushing.
This section of the Intracoastal Waterway was cut from the rock and had squarely defined sides where you could
observe the wakes of the boat traffic clearly breaking. This was not like other places where the waterway was
dredged and had sloping banks of sand or mud that tapered away from the channel.
As I approached this push boat I took this information into account as I pulled up behind the push boat and began to
pass it.
One thing that I totally left out of this equation of my logical thought was the fact that the push boat with its multi-
thousands of horsepower was in fact pulling all of the water from in front of it and thrusting it out past its stern, in
order to move forward.
Another thing I didn’t equate was our very deep draft that would seriously be affected by any cross currents.
Out in open waters this passing process would not be something that would even merit a second thought.
Well, the difference in our speed was slight so that passing would require a good deal of time.
I gave it my undivided attention and began the process. That push boat was huge, four stories tall and very long.
All went well as we passed the main part of the push boat but when we got even with the bow of the push boat a
strange and uncontrollable thing happened. I only had a second to yell to Jane, “Hang on!”
What happened next was amazing. Our vessel was slammed broadside into the push boat with full force and we
were helplessly impaled on the push boat.
Our boat was immediately heeled over at a thirty-degree angle where it would remain until the personal from the
push boat came to inspect the damage.
It was determined that we were not holed or leaking any water and then the push boat diminished its power and
allowed us to float away.
I did learn something new with this incident and Jane only reinforced her fear of these huge cumbersome giants or
the waterway.
We were definitely shaken and the vision of doom flashed before our eyes as this whole episode unfolded.
Our hull flexed and recoiled back to its original shape after the impact but within our boat we did sustain damage to
a bulkhead that was shoved over about six inches and did not return to its original position after the impact.
We were extremely lucky. If we would have had a smaller vessel with less buoyancy it more than likely would have
been swept under the push boat and I would not be here to be writing this account.
This section of the waterway might have been more pleasant in a different season of the year but now with the cold
weather and short days and no places to pull over and anchor or tie up it had little appeal.
By 5:30 PM we found a wide place in the waterway just past the Socastee Bridge that was evidently a place
previously made to park commercial vessels. It had overgrown with large trees that hung out from the bank but we
just nudged in and tied to those trees.
It wasn’t much but we had a long and taxing day and we were definitely ready to quit at this point.
We would remember this day in our boating career as not a pleasant one. We started out without a good nights
sleep and then spent too many hours under way plus our collision experience all made the day way more than we
wanted or needed. If this was going to be the worst we would have, we could live with that.
November 20th we departed early and only made a six-hour day stopping at the Georgetown, South Carolina Esso
Fuel dock for fuel and also to get some much needed rest and relaxation.
November 21st we put in another long day of eleven hours and the only notable thing this day was the fact that we
actually spotted our very first palm tree. It doesn’t seem like much now but at the time after all of our adventuresome
and extensive travels from our beginnings far up on western Lake Superior to the “Heart of Dixie” it was a real
transformation.
The most impressive thing about boating here between Charleston, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia are the
high tides and swift currents.
This night we would anchor right downtown in Charleston on the Ashley River. We had been so many nights out in
the rural back country with little or no traffic or commotion that this spot adjacent to this bridge that had high traffic
flow was a shock.
The city lights and occasional siren of an emergency vehicle made us want to quickly retreat to the backcountry with
its solitude.
November 22nd leaving Charleston we waited until after nine AM because of the reason that there were bridge
restrictions that limited the openings due to heavy city traffic. We didn’t want to linger and be waiting for a bridge to
open in these currents. It wouldn’t be too bad if you were the only boat waiting but more than likely there would be
several and perhaps even a push boat thrown in to make things even more interesting and challenging.
We were becoming more adept at handling our boat in these currents but we needed plenty of maneuvering space
with the strong currents and our boats inability to come to a stop.
As we were entering the “big sound country”, (known as bays elsewhere), we would encounter fog banks that would
suddenly appear and disappear on a moments notice this particular season. I instinctively would record our
compass heading which would at least get you to the next marker if the fog set in unexpectedly.
At the Edisto River we saw a push boat that lost control of his nine or so barges and they went in all directions and
bounced around in the strong currents like so many corks tossed into the rapids. The push boat operator was going
to have a monumental job just retrieving his barges and reorganizing his flotilla. We cautiously went through the
maze of helter-skelter barges as the push boat operator was blowing black smoke from his stack in an attempt to
round up his barges.
Another interesting event took place as we were headed out one of the sounds and the fog set in. Several boats
had gathered waiting for the fog to lift or shift when a large plush pleasure yacht came by going our direction with his
radar operating. All of the waiting boats fell in behind him like a row of little ducks behind their mother and off we all
went into the fog.
At a quarter to five that afternoon we anchored up in the Coosaw River, South Carolina. It had been another long
day and we needed a quiet place to snooze after our sixty statute mile day.
November 23rd : this day we continued south through the “big sound country” with its wild currents and high tides
and the adventures ocontinue in chapter 9.
next chapter
INTO THE GREAT ATLANTIC OCEAN AND SOUTHWARD TO THE TROPICAL BALMY BRINY BREEZES
The lady standing so majestically with her raised torch held high bid us farewell. “The Statue of Liberty” was a party
of one to see us off into that great wide openness that opened yet another door and turned another page in our
adventure that would also be another learning experience.
No matter how much we studied or how many classes we attended we were now going to receive a lesson in reality
with our own actions and on our own boat.
Though I had been boating all of my life and even been out to sea this would be my first time to be at the helm with
the salt spray coming over the bow of my own vessel.
The day was cool, the wind blustery and the seas uninviting but this was the road we would have to travel to get
where we were going. We were going south to escape the winter for one good reason. We had both spent all of our
lives living in a cold climate. I couldn’t help but think of what Jane’s grandfather always used to say, “I want to die in
the fall so that I don’t have go through another cold winter.” My family back in Norway used to describe winter as the
“tunnel”. They used to say, “We are entering the tunnel or leaving the tunnel but we are always in the tunnel”.
The Dursmirg was now in saltwater and this was where it was destined to spend the remainder of its life.
At this time and in this season we were the only pleasure boat departing the Port of New York. As we nosed out into
that briny sea and our Dursmirg glided through those swells, the smell and color were strange and different to us
because we had never sailed upon the ocean in these northern latitudes before.
We took our departure from the ships channel at the sea buoy and turned south. At that moment it felt like we had at
least fulfilled our dreams and we had an unknown agenda ahead that would take us to all new places with the added
advantage of going at our own pace.
The small port of Manasquan, New Jersey looked like it would be a suitable place to spend the night so we turned
into the short entry channel and inquired for dockage at the marina just before the railroad bridge. We were out of
luck, there were no more rental slips available and it was suggested that we anchor out for the night. Jane and I
sized up the anchorage spot and then spoke to the people aboard the one boat anchored there. They said that they
didn’t recommend another boat anchoring because the swinging room was very limited. Well, we being new to this
land of changing tides and swift currents thought that we might as well just tie to the adjacent sea wall.
There was a little town park and the place looked very inviting to us. There were no cleats or bollards to tie to on the
sea wall and that should have been a signal to us to beware.
The night was pleasant enough but at about four in the morning the first sport fishing boat came screaming by with
its hull speed adjusted to produce the maximum wake.
We were pitched hard and solidly against the sea wall with a resounding crash. We both went out to see what and
who could be doing such a thing on this quiet and peaceful morning.
No sooner did we get topsides and we had to jump to the sea wall to fend off from yet another one of these hell
bent, huge wake producing sport fishing boats. It was like a parade that had no end, the boats only increased in
number. We finally gave up at sunrise and joined that procession of boats out the harbor entrance.
October 22nd 1972 was going to be a very long day out to sea.
The New Jersey coast did not have a particularly scenic silhouette and as I have said before, “out to sea you can
see along way but you can’t see much.” The low coastline was packed with beach houses and they all sat on a low
narrow barrier island that was backed by a lagoon.
Progress was slow all day and it was nine hours before we finally began our trip into the Atlantic City harbor entry.
We were tired and ready to get some sleep so we headed to the city marina and rented a slip for the night. This
place had an over abundance of vacant slips for rent and we had our pier almost to ourselves.
The dock master asked if we needed to go ashore for anything and if we did, he told us not to go alone and not at
all after dark without a police escort. Well, we for sure got the message that this was not the better end of New
Jersey. After a shower we were ready to catch up on the sleep we had been cheated out of back at Manasquan by
the “sport fishing boats” with their out of control wakes.
Oh, by the way!
In 1972, when we arrived in Atlantic City, it was yet to be developed with its gambling casinos and was in desperate
need of some urban renewal projects.
Some ten years later we paid this place a visit by land and we couldn’t believe the transformation that had taken
place with all of the glitter and glitz that went with the huge decadent casinos that stood one after another far down
the beach. We also noted that back inland from the casinos stood the old undeveloped run down slummy tenements
that had the appearance of crime ridden slums.
Back to our travels;
October 23rd, 1972 after a sound nights sleep we were off to see more of the world. This day we pounded into a
choppy sea and took many a wave over the bow on our way south to Cape May, New Jersey.
It was after dark when we began our approach to the Cape May channel. The seas that were coming over our bow
gave us a new experience after dark as we were seeing the phosphorescence of the seawater with its millions of tiny
sea creatures. I just had to walk forward to watch as our bow cut through the seas and the affect of those sea
creatures illuminating the water of our bow wake as it broke through the oncoming waves.
When we got into the harbor we noticed that not all of our running lights were in working condition and took the first
opportunity to pull over and tie up. The first dock we came to was the Coast Guard Station dock.
We told the personal there of our problem and asked if it would be O.K. to stay tied at their dock until daylight.
There seemed to be no problem with that so we got ready to spend the night. We had a good time talking with the
men of the Coastguard and discovered that many were from places in the United States far removed from any salt
water. They were a very friendly bunch and wanted someone to talk to.
I don’t know how the subject came up but they wanted to tell us of all of the sharks that roamed the area waters of
Cape May. Someone had just caught a 26-footer with a roll of tar paper in its stomach. Another story they told was
of when they had been out on patrol the previous Sunday and were about twenty-five miles offshore they spotted a
swimmer. The story was that this person had just been pitched overboard by his friends and abandoned; that was a
death sentence.
While we were talking and exchanging stories word came down from the office that we were to be escorted away to
another dock. That was fine with us and away we went following a small Coast Guard cutter with lots of flashing
lights. They escorted us to a dock that was in front of a very nice restaurant named, “Cape May Lobster House”. We
tied to the dock for the night. As soon as we had secured our boat I invited the Coast Guard crew aboard our vessel
for a beer. We had a keg of beer with a spigot in the galley. They liked that a lot and we had a good time
exchanging more stories.
October 24th as Jane and I were having our after breakfast coffee I noticed a man peering in through our porthole
from the dock. I thought that was curious and he thought that our boat was curious. Well, I just went and invited him
aboard for coffee.
This was Captain Charles Young of the Black Diamond Steamship Lines, (retired). He had more questions than a
thousand wise men could answer. We hit it off well and we both had many a story to tell.
Captain Young wanted to show us some of the area around Cape May and we all took off in his car for a guided
tour. First to his house, he lived alone, and then down to visit the boardwalk and next out to “Sunset Beach” to see
the local attraction of a cement boat from World War I.
Oh, by the way!
Back in Superior, Wisconsin I had been the vice president of the local Optimist Club. When it became known that I
was building a Ferro-cement boat one of the members made a presentation to me of a large poster depicting the
following sight:
Back to Captain Young and our tour:
This was the sight that the Captain wanted to show us. We were absolutely astonished at the coincidence because
for some time before we had finished building our boat we had the poster depicting the above scene hanging at our
home back in Superior.
The Lobster House Restaurant didn’t charge us any dockage fee so we thought that we should at lead
patronize them for a meal.
October 26th we were under way again. We retraced our path out the entry we had entered because of a low
bridge that wouldn’t permit us to use a short cut passage into the Delaware Bay.
It was a bright and sunny day and the fall weather seemed to be turning into an “Indian Summer”. This morning we
would be treated to yet another sea going experience that we hadn’t encountered before.
Our position and course put us exactly where we were supposed to be with plenty of water under our keel. What
happened next was totally amazing to us. We, for no apparent reason, began to spin around in a circle rapidly and
out of control. Then I noticed that the water was of two distinctive different colors right where we were sailing. We
had just crossed a tidal rip, or rip current. This is a phenomenon that takes place as the tide turns and this line
moves along. On one side of the line marked by the two different colors of water the tide is flooding and on the other
the tide is ebbing.
We observed another boat nearby encounter the tidal rip current and sure enough they took a sharp turn but
obviously they were accustomed to these waters and quickly corrected their course.
Our plan was to travel up the Delaware Bay to the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, cross it and then sail down the
Chesapeake Bay to Norfolk, Virginia.
This night after studying the chart and our options we decided that we would just pull far off the shipping channel
and anchor up for the night, which we did. We were very lucky that the weather cooperated and there was no boat
traffic. In fact it turned out to be just wonderful to be far from any civilization and out in that world of our own.
October 27th we didn’t get under way unto 10:05 that morning because of heavy and dense fog. When the day
cleared into a beautiful fall day, it made us happy to be there.
We made our turn off the Delaware Bay into the C and D Canal that connects the Delaware Bay with the
Chesapeake Bay. I had never heard of this canal before and until we came this way I had no idea of its existence.
Oh, by the way!
From my previous studies of geography and history the only place that conjured up any memories of this area was
my recollection of General George Washington crossing the Delaware Bay with his troops to surprise the British in
the Revolutionary War. A famous painting always comes to mind that depicts General George Washington standing
in the bow of his boat and pointing the way as his men rowed that little open boat through the ice packed waters of
the bay.
We discovered that the C and D Canal, (Chesapeake and Delaware Canal), had a rich history that dated far back
into the country’s history and was operational in 1829.
Back to our travels;
A more beautiful fall day couldn’t be imagined. A warm breeze, bright sun and the fall colored leaves made the day
one that made us both happy to have escaped the work-a-day world and we were together to explore these strange
new places that held adventures each and every day.
The big ship traffic was the biggest surprise to us and we almost always had one or two of those big “salty” ships in
our view, either coming or going in the C and D Canal.
We found a nice place to tie up for the night within the canal at Chesapeake City, Maryland. The Schaefer’s Marine
dock at Chesapeake City was near to the western end of the canal, which made it a nice place to stop at 3 PM that
afternoon. We still had plenty of time to explore the area and put our bicycles ashore to see the local attractions. I
was happy that Jane had got us started with bicycles because they made our cruising so much more fun with
transportation every place we went. Many times and many places we would anchor offshore and take our bicycles to
shore by dinghy to explore.
Well, it was very rural countryside here that we enjoyed and we did find a nice little park dedicated to the history of
the canal that enlightened us about a lot of the local history.
In the photo above is Schaefer’s Marina where we tied our boat and the bridge we bicycled across to
visit the C&D Canal museum.
This evening we treated ourselves to a luxurious dinner at the restaurant at Schaefer’s Marina. The restaurant was
laid out to present a view of the canal to all of the patrons. Each time one of the many ships that would pass pulled
into view an announcer would give a very pleasant description about that vessel over the sound system; the name
of the vessel, its home port, its size and draft, its last port, the cargo it was carrying, and where it was destined to go
for its next port. The announcer even gave a description of our boat and a little history of our trip.
The next day we had visitors, Marge Evans and her daughter Jackie. They had been friends back in Superior,
Wisconsin and Marge and her ex-husband had even given us a hand in the construction of our boat.
You can see by the photo below that it was definitely fall, and that many of the leaves had already fallen from the
trees. It was a good day to visit and not to travel because we had rainy and cold weather. Our boat was warm, dry
and cozy so this Saturday worked out fine. Marge was now living nearby where she had a teaching job so this was
the perfect place and time to get together.
Marge Evans, Jackie Evans and Jane at Chesapeake City, Maryland.
October 30th we left Schaefer’s Marina at Chesapeake City on our way to our next stop, the capital city of
Annapolis, Maryland.
At 3:45 PM that afternoon we pulled into a marina in the downtown section of Annapolis, Maryland and there we
were advised that it would be best for us to anchor in the harbor. At 4:30 we were swinging on our anchor right in
the middle of the harbor. The view was really spectacular with so many historical sights in view including the Military
Academy.
We had several reasons for visiting Annapolis. One was that in Annapolis the marine supply stores stocked
everything that a sailor could ever dream of and a lot more. We also thought that we would like to visit some of the
historical sights of which the town was filled. Seafood restaurants were also a big draw here and we would try a few.
Downtown Annapolis waterfront and one of the marine hardware stores we made several purchases at,
Fawcett Marine Hardware Co.
A pleasant surprise was to find anchored nearby our old traveling companions from the Erie Canal and New York
City, George and Bella Truston. This would be great!
That very afternoon we struck off with George Jr. and his sister Ruth. The kids couldn’t wait to be our tour guides
and kept us on the move until dark.
This is the Nation’s first peacetime capital building. It is one of many historical buildings in this old city
that was part of the original “13 Colonies”.
This town was going to take some of our money, and we started by purchasing a couple of anchors. Then we visited
Bacon and Associates; this was going to prove to be one of the companies that we would continue to do business
with over the years. We loved the place because they bought and sold new and used sails plus a wide variety of
marine hardware. We bought two used sails that day and we were very happy with the sails, service and the prices.
The people there were very helpful and were experts at appraising the condition of a sail. Besides buying two sails
we got a real education from the helpful service people there. We were still taking lessons in nautical knowledge and
would continue to do so as long as we sailed. (Now I have the knowledge to design a real “dream boat”.)
October 31st was a cold Halloween day and that night we had a surprise visit by some of our boating neighbors.
When we went out on deck to see who was calling our name we were surprised by the sight we encountered. There
in a small dinghy were four adults and a huge jack-o-lantern artfully carved with a funny face that was illuminated by
a candle from within. We invited the soon to be friends aboard and we all had some beer from our keg that sat in our
bilge. Woody and Debbi Watkinson aboard the sailboat “Freyja” would be crossing our sailing path many times over
the next few years all of the way to Key West, Florida.
The waterfront dinghy boat landing at Annapolis was not the place that the pillars of the community hung out. Jane
and I didn’t linger there very long after dark when the heroin addicts came there to “shoot-up”.
November 2nd we left the outer harbor at Annapolis and continued south down the Chesapeake Bay. This was
real sailboat country and as we were leaving Annapolis the view ahead looked like a maze of sailboats that was
impenetrable.
As we approached we just slipped through the pack of boats that were engaged in some kind of a race that
crisscrossed our course for departure.
The Chesapeake Bay is not just for pleasure sailing boats. As we sailed along we got the opportunity to see the
skipjacks, which are low silhouette, shallow draft commercial oyster fishing vessels working to harvest their catch.
They were developed from the lines of the Chesapeake Bay Log Canoe, the Brogan, and the famous Clipper Ships.
They are unique to the Eastern Shore of Maryland and Virginia, and the few remaining skipjacks still dredge oysters
under sail during the fall and winter oyster season on the Chesapeake Bay.
Oyster harvesting on the skipjacks is done with hand-operated tongs. As we watched these men engaged in the
process of retrieving the oysters, we were thoroughly impressed with their physical efforts. They must have had
arms and backs of steel. Also consider that they didn’t just crank their engine and power back to the dock. They
hoisted the sails, trimmed them and then man handled their catch. We got physically exhausted just watching the
whole process.
Fishing was big business in the Chesapeake and we couldn’t believe how this bay could possibly support the
intense fishing that was going on. The next type of commercial fishing we saw was coordinated by spotter airplanes
that would fly up and down the bay looking for schools of “menhaden” fish.
An explanation of Menhaden fishing.:
Menhaden, which are too oily and bony to eat, are caught for industrial purposes. They are sold as bait or they can
be processed into an oil used in printing ink, plastics, building materials, and animal feed. For this to be profitable,
many thousands of menhaden must be caught at once, far more than one person could handle.
Watermen may call menhaden by the nicknames of "bunker," "bug eye," or "pogie." Menhaden swim near the
surface of the water in schools as large as a football field. A small striker boat locates the school of menhaden out in
the bay. The mother vessel drops two smaller purse seine boats into the water. Holding opposite ends of a very long
net, the two boats travel in a circle around the school of menhaden, trapping the fish inside the net. Then the net is
pursed, or closed at the bottom.
In years past, the mother vessel would use its mechanical arms to raise the nets full of fish. Today, huge suction
vacuums will pull the fish out of the closed net directly into refrigerated containers on the larger boat. The striker
boat has been replaced by an airplane and most purse seine fishing today is done by large companies, not
independent watermen.
Oh, by the way!
The ecosystem of the Chesapeake Bay waters extends inland for two hundred miles from the Atlantic Ocean and is
between 4 and 40 miles wide and produces an unfathomable quantity of marine life that includes oysters, crabs and
various species of commercially harvestable fish.
Many things have been reducing the harvests of seafood from the Chesapeake Bay over the years; over fishing,
industrial and agricultural pollution, and recently a couple of new problems have come along. The Federal
Government mandated that all boats operating on inland waters would be required to treat their sewage discharge
with a special chemical to eliminate the spread of disease. That special chemical contained formaldehyde that in
turn destroyed the crab and oyster crops of the bay. Another thing that is on going is the use of lawn treatment
chemicals sold by all garden centers that eventually goes directly into the bay waters with each rain.
Back to out trip;
We sailed into the Patuxent River and dropped our anchor in 23 feet of water by 4:30 PM that afternoon. The note
from our logbook stated; “Rough ride at anchor with 80 mile an hour winds!”
November 3rd we continued our trip south down the bay to the Great Wicomico River, which is situated just south
of the mouth of the Potomac River. We pulled into the little bay and as I attempted to set the anchor by putting the
engine in reverse nothing happened. The sickening discovery that our transmission was dead and unresponsive to
all of our proddings sent me to our next alternative…that was get some help.
I lowered our dinghy from its davits and took a trip to a small marina that resembled a commercial fishing dock.
There to my surprise was docked the sailboat “By George”. George, Bella and their kids were again to cross our
paths. Running into them again was more than coincidental. I told them of our problem and plight and asked if they
hade any ideas. George and I went to the office to find out if there was a specialist in Borg Warner marine
transmissions near by. I was put on the phone to a nearby repair facility and asked a few pertinent questions. The
conclusion was made I had been sold a transmission that was designed to turn in the opposite direction. They told
me that this had happened before and that I was in affect running in reverse continuously to go forward. The fact
was that the propeller we were using was a right hand propeller and we should be using a left hand propeller. The
solution was to remove the transmission and bring it to their shop where they would be able to replace all of the
seals and gaskets. I would then have to change our propeller to make the transmission perform correctly.
I had a problem of logistics because the repair yard we would have to use was located six miles up the Great
Wicomico River at a little town named, “Burgess, Virginia”. Next, I had another turn of luck when a man I had met up
on the Erie Canal from Quebec came in to the marina, heard my story and insisted that he tow our boat up the river.
Andres and his two lovely daughters were anchored in front of the marina and we could get under way at once.
Andres tied alongside our boat and we proceeded up river at a very slow pace, but we were underway and there
was hope.
We didn’t reach Burgess until just before dark and our slow ride gave us time to get acquainted.
Andres told us his reason for leaving his good government job and departing to start a new life. He had enough of
the confinements and lack of adventure plus he felt saddled with heavy responsibilities while many people in
Quebec were just gliding along and living off the efforts of others…he was out of there…period!
Andres’ boat that towed us up the Great Wicomico River to Burgess, Virginia.
It would be a week before we would move again under our own power on November10th.
November 4th in this quiet little harbor in rural Virginia we had peace and tranquility. We were happy not to be in
some crime ridden big city or at the mercy of the elements in some unprotected waters.
If we had to be stranded any place this place was just about as good as it gets. It wasn’t tropical here but our boat
was well insulated and we had our fireplace when we wanted it. The diesel fuel powered galley stove produced
enough heat that we had more than enough warmth for this climate. This was a good place to be and we were
happy to be here. As I have many times said, “anywhere Jane and I are together we are home”.
As soon as I had my breakfast I was in the bilge with my wrenches and cable come- along. The transmission was
disconnected and hoisted with the cable come-along to the deck by 9:00 AM. Using the boom from our main mast it
was quickly swung overboard and ratcheted down to our waiting dinghy for its trip to shore and the repair shop.
Odis B. Cockrell at the Glebe Point Boat Company was the one to take care of all of our transmission needs and he
also arranged to get us another propeller of the proper size and pitch.
I should mention here that the Glebe Point Boat Company was the producer of luxury yachts made from wood. They
had a distinctive hull design that allowed these yachts to enter very shallow water because of their recessed
propellers. There was a backlog of orders and the Cockrells would be kept busy in their “mom and pop” yacht
building business for many years to come.
When it came time to install the new propeller they lent me a scuba tank. We tied our boat to their dock so that we
would be in shallow enough water so that if I should drop anything it could at least be easily retrieved. That project
was difficult and I came close to collapsing from hypothermia. Jane had to actually pull me from the water, and then
she had to assist me inside because I was trembling uncontrollable from bodily heat loss. Putting the new propeller
on was no problem. The removal of the old one was because swinging a hammer under water is nearly
ineffectual…but I did it.
Our one-week stay at Burgess, Virginia was really wonderful. We met a very interesting couple that had retired here
in a bayfront home. Augie and Lenora Bialkowski made it a point of getting to know us. Augie was retired from his
glass business in Richmond, Virginia and he was also a WW I veteran. Lenora was a retired nurse and she was a
veteran of WW II.
Lenora met us as we came ashore and wanted to know what we were doing. We related our story to her and she
then insisted that we come to their house for lunch that day. She was very insistent so we obliged her and it was
great fun. We met her husband Augie and we all had lots of stories and jokes to exchange.
Lenora took us on a driving tour that afternoon to see the local sights. The great claim to fame of Burgess, Virginia
was that this was the birthplace of Martha Washington, the wife of our first president. Lenora was somehow related
to her along with most or the residents of the area including the owners of the Glebe Point Boat Company, the
Cockrells.
Jane and I were both impressed with the beauty of the countryside with all of the farms that produced mostly tobacco
and soybeans. Lenora also took us to an oyster processing plant where the boats pulled in with their catch and then
the oysters were shucked. We got a demonstration. Evidentially the speed of the shuckers is a thing of great pride
and we got to watch the last year’s champion in action. Yes, this big lady was fast. The workers are paid by volume
so naturally the faster they work the more money they make.
That night we had to return to Augie and Lenora’s home for an oyster dinner and we both got the opportunity to
sample our first really fresh fried oysters. The meal was fabulous and we couldn’t seem to get enough of those
delectable little creatures. We stayed to play cards with them and tell more stories. Rummy was their game and it
was great fun for all.
Lenora insisted that we come the next morning for breakfast, which was to be a local surprise.
These spunky senior citizens were still living in the “fast lane” as we found out when we stepped through their door
the next morning and were handed a tall glass of tomato juice. Well, it wasn’t just tomato juice. It turned out to be a
very stiff “Bloody Mary” heavily laced with alcohol. This was enough to get your bodily motor revved up and also
remove the feeling of any pain.
The local specialty for breakfast turned out to be something we would have for breakfast for many a year to come.
Spoon bread was the main dish. This was made from corn flour, eggs and milk and baked in the oven. The rest of
the meal was fried fish. “Grunts” were a type of fish that was caught from the Chesapeake on southward into
Florida…we over the years had the opportunity to eat many of these tasty little fish, and loved them.
Here is the “Spoon Bread” recipe, a regional specialty of rural Virginia
This is copied directly from Jane’s original files.
Set the oven at 500 degrees and place well greased 2 quart casserole in oven.
2 eggs
1 tsp. salt
1 cup of corn meal
1 ½ tsp. baking powder
1 cup of buttermilk
2 cups of boiling water
Beat eggs, add milk, into this sift all dry ingredients, mix well. Pour boiling water over this and mix. Pour into greased
dish. Bake 20 to 25 minutes.
(As dictated by; Lenora Bialkowski)
We had a new home with Augie and Lenore and over the course of the following week we were together most of the
time and we hated to say good-by when we finally left.
November 10th we had our boat operational again and we reluctantly bid our good-byes to all of our newfound
friends in this little out-of –the-way slice of paradise that we had the time to come to love.
This stopover was costly in money but the rewards of lessons learned and friends made would give us warm and
wonderful memories for the rest of our years.
I have often said, “You never know when someone is doing you a favor”. Well, adversity may point you in a different
direction that is far better than the track you originally struck out on.
Our stopover at Burgess, Virginia proved to be just such a lesson in a change of direction of our lives. We had not
at all planned this, but our future years would be better in many ways for the time we were given here to see this
other dimension of life.
As we sailed on down the Chesapeake we felt inspired as though we had entered a wonderful new era that was free
of that other world we had struggled so very hard to escape. Yes, we were in a new world, a wonderful and different
new world.
The little spot we pulled into for the night isn’t on most maps. The Piankatan River was just right, and it met our
needs of a quiet place to drop our hook.
November 11th we resumed our trip south down the Chesapeake and as we approached Norfolk, Virginia we
realized that we were no longer in a quiet part of the world as the number of channel markers became like a maze as
various channels all converged in the lower bay area.
Fall weather was with us again and the high winds and dark skies gave us resolve to keep moving south.
The sights of the Norfolk-Newport News harbor were shockingly out of proportion with what we had seen so far in our
travels. This harbor contained the biggest of the big sea going vessels. The US Navy had their mothball fleet here
plus several old out of service cruise liners were also docked here.
Crossing the Norfolk harbor
We just found an out of the channel spot that had some protection from the wind and dropped the anchor for the
night at 5:05 PM that afternoon. This was an industrial end of the world and not the kind of place to find pleasure
boats.
This evening we had a decision to make. We now had two choices ahead of us. We could choose to take the Dismal
Swamp route. It was the oldest continuously operated canal in the US that was constructed back in 1784 by General
George Washington or we could take the Albemarle Sound route that had one lock known as “Virginia Cut”.
We decided on the Virginia Cut because there was some question about shallow waters and also lots of floating
debris in the Dismal Swamp route.
November 12th we were under way by nine, the weather was noticeably cool and the sky clear and we went
through our first bridge that morning. This lift railroad bridge was at the wrong place at the wrong time for us. It was
situated in a sharp curve in the river and the morning sun this Sunday morning clipped me directly in the eyes as we
made our approach to the bridge. Just as we entered within the fenders I was blinded. No matter how I strained I
could not see ahead. I called for Jane’s help and somehow we went through but I couldn’t see the bridge. It would
have made a terrible mess of our boat if we had slammed the bridge.
Just down the Virginia Cut a ways we came to another bridge and this time just as we were passing the center span
a large overpowered houseboat came through from our rear leaving a very destructive wake that sent our boat
wildly out of control. Again we luckily made it without a collision. I should add here that one of the rules of boating
clearly states that there is no passing within the bridge fenders.
The lock we went through on the Virginia Cut didn’t seem worth the effort because we only changed our level by
several inches. The lock was there to reduce the current flow and not necessarily to gain or lose altitude.
At 3:55 PM we arrived at Coinjock, North Carolina and we docked at Harrison’s Marina. If you were in this stretch of
the Virginia Cut your options were limited as far as stopping places…this was it…period!
There were no anchorages and no other marinas. We had sticker shock at the price of dockage. Twenty cents a
foot at that time was unheard of and most places if you bought your fuel the dockage was no-charge…not here.
I needed a quart of lubricating oil and the price was two dollars. I had never paid more than fifty cents before.
We decided to take a walk and have some dinner. We asked the lady that was pumping diesel fuel if a restaurant
was near. She told us that the local restaurant was good and that we needed to try their fried fish dinner. When we
asked directions she pointed and said that it was, “just a potato’s throw”.
My God those people must be able to throw a potato a long way! We walked and walked and walked some more.
Yes, we arrived just at dark and asked for their fried fish dinner.
We received two small fish each and they were fried head, tail and all. The only thing that made this meal
memorable was the fact that it was exceptionally ho-hum at best.
One new thing that we started to encounter in our boating from here to south Florida was the “push boat”. These 3
or 4 story high vessels plied the waters of the Intercostal Waterway with their several thousand horsepower motors.
They moved both day and night. Here at Coinjock, as we were tied to the dock parallel to the waterway, we had
several of these vessels and their loads pass by. We couldn’t help but notice because each time one would pass by
they had to sound their horn to open the bridge that crossed the Intercoastal Waterway near our marina. Their
horns would put the horn of a diesel locomotive to shame for loudness. At night they have searchlights that
continuously flash back and forth from bank to bank with several thousand candlepower that could be seen for many
miles off in the distance.
(A push boat uses its bow to push barges through the water versus tugboats that pull their barges or loads with a
towline and are usually used offshore in the ocean.)
Push boat and barge
Oh, by the way!
Here is a short story about a dear friend of ours, Lancy Burn, who many years before worked for R.J. Reynolds as a
tugboat operator. This was the same R.J. Reynolds that had the tobacco empire and also owned a large plantation
on Sapelo Island, South Carolina.
One day as Lancy Burn was piloting a tugboat that was pulling a barge full of cattle through the Intracoastal
Waterway, he approached a lift bridge at Saint Simons Island. This is one of the “Sea Islands”, where the tidal
currents are very strong.
He sounded his horn with the appropriate three blasts to open the bridge and nothing happened. Again and again
he tried to get the bridge to open. Finally he had to make the choice to turn his tug to avoid a collision with the
bridge that wouldn’t open. With the current swiftly running with him as he closed in on the bridge his timing was
crucial.
At the last second he swung the helm hard over and brought his tugboat back up against the current.
Well, that barge load full of cattle was spun around as the towline snatched the barge in the opposite direction and
the net result was that some of the cattle fell down and the rest went into a stampede.
Mr. Burn told me that when he finally got to the dock the cattle that had fallen over were squashed down to a mush
only four inches thick.
My comment on the tidal currents in this part of the country was that, “you could water ski behind an anchored boat”.
Back to our travels;
November 13th was a delightful day to be heading south and the weather seemed to finally be improving as we
cast off from the dock at Coinjock, North Carolina.
We would be entering one of our first “big sounds” this morning. In this part of the country the bays are referred to
as “sounds”.
As we ventured south the river got wider and wider as we approached Albemarle Sound.
This is indeed a large body of water and it was the kind of place that the prudent navigator pays close attention to
his compass course because of the frequent and sudden appearance of fog, especially this time of year.
We next entered a very wide river named Alligator River where the population is almost nonexistent. The reason for
no people is that the land is all marsh and very low scrub mixed with cypress tree savannahs called hammocks
subject to tidal flooding.
This afternoon we were enchanted by the lovely weather and decided to just pull over off the main channel and
anchor up for the evening in this wild wilderness.
Before dark a small single masted sailboat, named African Queen III, came slowly sailing up and asked if we minded
him anchoring next to us for the night. We had no objection and invited this obviously “hippie” over to be sociable.
This guy, David W., was traveling alone and his destination was Key West, Florida where he told us he could be
found at “Howie’s Lounge”.
David was a tremendous artist and he did a pencil sketch of me to prove it.
The night was just too good to be true and the water was like a sheet of glass and almost mystical as though we
were totally devoid of any civilization…there wasn’t a single light to be seen anywhere.
The next morning early it was payback time with the weather. The wind piped up to a gale force wind that persisted.
The next thing we knew was that David on the “African Queen III” was adjacent to our stern. We went out to see what
was happening. David’s anchor line was under our boat and his boat was in the process of slamming into our boat
with real force driven by the wind and seas that had already built.
In just seconds our dinghy line parted and it was gone downwind like a child’s inflatable toy spirited off with the wind.
Next, David’s anchor line parted but not before his bow cleat gouged our boat several times. Jane told David that
she would call the Coast Guard for him because we knew he was alone, had no motor and that his only anchor was
gone.
David was being driven downwind fast by the wind and the last words he shouted to us were, “I don’t need the Coast
Guard”.
We knew that he must have something to hide, like his “smokes” because if you are given any Coast Guard
assistance it is mandatory that your boat be inspected. He clearly didn’t want any inspection.
The storm winds persisted and even built in force. I got on our radio to report our loss to the Coast Guard and also
let them know of David’s dilemma. While I was on the radio with the Coast Guard our anchor line parted and we lost
our anchor and anchor line. Luckily we had another anchor that we could set, which we did.
The Coast Guard I was talking to was from the Cape Hatteras Station, which was very close to our position but out
on the ocean coast. Cape Hatteras is the most treacherous inlet on the entire east coast of the United States. The
chart of that area is crammed with the names of all of the shipwrecks that line the coast there.
Some time passed and the Coast Guard came back to me on the radio with news that they had sent out a helicopter
to look for our dinghy and also assist David if he needed it. They told us that the helicopter didn’t make it to our
position because in route to us it encountered a capsized houseboat and they had to rescue the survivors from the
water. They told us if we hadn’t called them the people from the capsized houseboat probably would not have been
rescued.
The Cape Hatteras Coast Guard told us that David was sailing along and waved away their assistance when they
reached him and that they had spotted our capsized dinghy.
A note about David W.
Two weeks later we were tied to the Savannah Inn and Country Club dock when David and his little boat happened
along. David spotted our boat and came over. When he heard that we weren’t being charged dockage, he tied up
also. David was at that time “spaced out” and we were amazed that he could handle his boat at all. When he walked
the dock he walked off the end just like he thought he could walk on the water. We helped pull him onto the dock.
A year later we met up with this “still spaced out” hippie at Key West, Florida. Sure enough, it was at Howie’s
Lounge. (Jimmy Buffet was the main attraction there), David had a trance like look in his eyes and could hardly
respond to our presence…just a nod. That was the last time we ever saw of David W.
This is the drawing that David W. did of me the night before the storm on the Alligator River, North
Carolina on November 13th, 1972
Here is a letter that Jane wrote to her parents:
1972 Nov 14
Dear Mom, Dad and Joel;
I just got the letter you wrote to me on September 29, yesterday. We picked up our mail at Coinjock, North Carolina.
I just looked at my book that I keep track of the dates I write letters. It says I last wrote October 12. I hope it’s
wrong. In case I haven’t since then we have come down the Hudson River to New York City, down the Atlantic Ocean
to Cape May, New Jersey, (we had a very exciting ride the last 35 miles to Cape May. The Ocean was so rough it
took nine hours to get there. Waves would submerge our deck to the mast.)
We stayed two days at Cape May and met an old sea captain who showed us all around for two days. We then went
up the Delaware Bay and river to Chesapeake City, Maryland where Marge Evens came to see us.
We then sailed to Annapolis, Maryland, spent two days there sight seeing and shopping for things for the boat. We
bought two new anchors, (one which we lost today- I’ll tell you about that later.) After Annapolis we stopped at
several places along the Chesapeake Bay. It’s really beautiful country…we are going to come back and spend a
whole summer. We were just anchoring one night on the Great Wicomico River off Chesapeake Bay when our
transmission burnt up. Next day we found a shop that would rebuild it for us. A sailboat from Montreal, Quebec
towed us five miles up the river where we had to anchor in front of a shop, as the water was too shallow at the dock.
We got the transmission back in running order in 4 days later then we had to have a new propeller. Bing borrowed
some scuba equipment and put it on himself. That’s a real big underwater job. We were tied to the dock then at
another boatyard, owned by the Cockrells, (relatives of George Washington.)
Everyone in the little town of Burgess, Virginia is a Cockrell or related. The people were really great to us. We met a
couple from Richmond, Virginia that have a summer home there. They had us over twice for supper, once for
breakfast and lunch. We played rummy with them and had a great time. They were really nice. We got a letter from
them yesterday. She was an army nurse during World War II and he was a veteran of World War I. Her father used
to work in the lumber mills in Duluth and surrounding area. I ate fried oysters for the first time at their place and
really loved them.
We went to the place where the oyster boats come and saw them cleaned.
In Annapolis, Maryland they still use sailing vessels for getting oysters.
Seafood is very abundant in this area.
From Great Wicomico River we went to Norfolk, Virginia and saw the huge Navy Ships, then to Coinjock, North
Carolina where we picked our mail yesterday.
Last night we anchored at about 45 miles from Coinjock on the Alligator River, 30 miles from Cape Hatteras. Last
night was warm, the water like glass. This morning a gale hit. A sailboat anchored next to us broke his anchor and
smashed into us. It did some damage to our boat and we lost our dingy. We called the Coast Guard because the
other boat was I trouble, (only 24 feet long and one guy alone with no spare anchor).
When we were calling the Coast Guard our anchor broke and that’s how we lost our new anchor. We got another
one out and we are still holding. A helicopter came, found the other sailboat and one life jacket from our dingy.
The Cape Hatteras Coast Guard called and said a surface airplane had spotted our dingy capsized close by.
Tomorrow a boat is coming to help us search for it.
The wind is still real bad at (7 PM), but not a full gale.
The Coast Guard sent one helicopter but it never got here because it spotted two people in the water and rescued
them. If we wouldn’t have had to call, they would never have found them. This is real wilderness and no one lives
here. There was a town nearby but it was wiped out by Cholera a few years ago.
All morning we heard distress calls on the radio. It sounds like the Coast Guard recovered all the people and boats.
The wind is still blowing, Bing and I are going to play some cards and I’ll finish this in the morning.
November 16, 1972
I didn’t get time to finish my letter yesterday.
As it was too rough to search for the dinghy, we decided to move on. We are now 187 miles south of Norfolk
anchored in Cedar Creek, (it’s in North Carolina).Last night we anchored near Belhaven, North Carolina.
We traveled 54 miles today. Tomorrow we’ll stop at Morehead City, North Carolina and check to see if our dingy has
been recovered yet.
We are now a little over 500 miles from the Florida line. We should be there in ten days. Then we will stop and rest
and finish the boat. After Christmas I think some of our friends will be coming down. We also have a lot of people we’
ve met along the way to visit down there.
I got a letter from Grandma, sounds like she had a real nice birthday party. Also I hope Dale is getting along better.
I haven’t heard from Judy, how is she getting along?
I heard that Joan and Dennis didn’t sell the house and are still renting it out. I sure hope that they are making the
payments. I am going to call the bank and check. We haven’t got the money from our house yet either. Ralph finally
sold the Chevy II for us. We got a letter from him the other day too!
I can’t believe that Thanksgiving is only a week away and there is no ice, snow or frost.
Sounds like your garden really did well this year. Now that dad has his Cub tractor I suppose the garden will be
even bigger next year. You’ll probably be in the potato farming business.
I’m glad to hear that Dad is feeling better.
How’s Joel doing?
Thanks for John’s address. I’m going to write to him next.
I have so many letters to write.
Well I better get on with my writing.
I just baked some apple crisp and it was real good.
Hope everyone is doing okay.
Love Jane and Bing
It hardly seems like 5 months since we put the boat in the water.
If you send our mail to John M. Grimsrud
% Jerry Peterson
General Delivery
Bayfield, WI 54814
It won’t have to be forwarded so many times, but our old address is still good.
Back to our travels;
November 15th it was still windy as we upped our anchor and continued south again.
These low lands are hauntingly beautiful with there watery shorelines filled with cypress trees draped in Spanish
moss. It is only boating country and is very isolated because of the lack of land access. We felt like we were alone in
the world here. Except for the occasional push boat that slowly but methodically would first appear far off on the
horizon. Then the push boat would eventually get bigger and bigger until we ultimately passed each other and then
we would watch as it then diminish off behind our stern.
We had an early quit that afternoon when we anchored at a wide place in the waterway at Pungo Creek near an
outpost town named Ponzer, North Carolina. This was wilderness and there was no sign of any civilization any where
in sight. Except for the howling wind, this was a very quiet place.
We enjoyed the flat water and lack of wave action. Jane and I took this time to catch up on correspondence and get
some letters written. Our isolation was profound and once again we had completely new scenery to enjoy. Our new
home was so cozy and everything we had was with us. Now we only needed the time to enjoy it.
November 16th the wind was still blowing strong when Jane got up to look around. She alarmingly announced that
our anchor had dragged during the night. I asked why she was so excited and then I got my answer as our boat
bumped the bottom several times. I hurriedly pulled on my clothes as I went to see the state of our present location. I
caught the view through our porthole of a house trailer next to our boat. Well, there was no house trailer there the
night before when we anchored. God only knew where we had wound up over the course of the night.
(My stock response to those who would ask me our position was; “we are right here”). Jane and I are both trained
navigators and to give the average person the latitude and longitude is usually a complete waste of effort, after all
you always have to be somewhere.
Jane and I took immediate action and cranked the engine and retrieved our anchor that had been fouled by a tin
can. Even the very best of anchors is totally worthless if it becomes fouled and won’t dig into the bottom. We were
still learning about anchors and over that course of our boating career we would have enough anchoring
experiences to fill a book. One fact that we soon came to recognize was that the bigger the anchor the better we
slept.
Our blustery weather persisted as we continued south. The strong currents and high winds took much of the
pleasure out of “pleasure boating” on a day like this. If I had it to do over again we would have anchored up in some
snug harbor and let the wind blow itself out of business. We had a desire to escape the northern winter and that
kept us on the move.
This night we anchored in some strong currents near the Neuse River at Cedar Creek. We pulled off into seven feet
of water, which was usually safe from the push boats because they couldn’t navigate in water that shallow.
November 17th the wind had increased in strength again but we decided we might as well continue on, which we
did. That morning we entered Morehead City, which looked like it might be a lovely place to be but this morning the
best we could do was to keep going. The wind had increased to 40 knots as we passed through a large swing bridge
in the downtown area. Just as we cleared the bridge and it closed behind us we heard on the radio that it would not
be opening anymore that day until the winds subsided. We later talked to some people that were coming down the
Intracostal Waterway behind us that said that they couldn’t open the bridge because of the high winds. I guess we
were just lucky. The wind was bad enough but it would have been even a bigger problem to have been turned back
to search for a place to hold up on such a day as this.
This afternoon at 1 PM we docked at the Esso Marina in Swansboro, North Carolina. We were happy to quit for the
day. This is where we had our mail forwarded to so we went to the post office to get it that afternoon.
When we got our mail we were surprised that we hadn’t received several checks that we were expecting.
We were about out of cash. We then went to the local bank and they told us that we wouldn’t be able to cash a
check until the following morning and that we would then have to call our own bank back in Superior, Wisconsin to
clear it.
All we could then do was wait.
We told the marina owner our plight and we believe that previous travelers must had used a similar story on him
because we got the feeling that he felt like we were trying to dupe him.
There were two other boats tied to the dock now and one was a boat we had seen back in Annapolis, Maryland. It
was the Freyja and sure enough there were Woody and Debbi, our acquaintances from that Halloween evening.
Also docked at the dock was a couple from Jacksonville, Florida named Stewart and Nancy Force. We would see
more of these people later on in our travels in Florida.
Stewart and Nancy were bringing their boat to Jacksonville. They were both school teachers and would take off on
weekends and go to where their boat was and then over the weekend sail it as far south as the could. It was slow
going but they were enjoying the adventure and also the experience of all of the sightseeing along the way.
They knew of a good local pizza place and recommended that we all go to give it a try that evening.
Jane and I thought it was a good idea but we were cash strapped. We went to our boat and rummaged through
every place that we could to dig up every stray cent we could find. We got together a handful of change and that
night we all had pizza and beer. We spent the last cent.
November 18th We had our money and left the Esso Marina at Swansboro, North Carolina. The owner of the
marina was very happy to receive his dockage money and showed his appreciation by giving us an armload of
magazines to read.
The Intracostal Waterway followed along the coast just inside a long line of barrier islands on our way this day. We
did encounter a couple of strange and different kinds of bridges in this stretch. Both kinds were floating. One was a
kind of swing-bridge on pontoons. The other was really a barge on a cable. On the last one the vehicles would all
drive aboard the floating barge and then when they were ready to depart a flashing light and a siren would sound
indicating that no boat traffic was to pass. Then a motor on shore would tighten up a cable that the barge was
fastened to and drag it across to the opposite shore. Then the flashing lights and siren would quit and it was then
safe for waterway traffic to resume.
That afternoon as we approached a conventional swing bridge we signaled for it to open and we were surprised that
it opened almost the instant that I finished with my horn blasts. The bridge was situated in a bend of the waterway
and as we drew near we were shocked to see that a huge push boat and barge were bearing down on the bridge
and that there would not be enough room for both of us to pass at the same time. The push boat was going to beat
us to the bridge.
A quick decision had to be made to avoid a terrible collision because there was no way that the push boat or our
boat would be able to stop in time.
I did what I had to do and diverted our boat to the bank. There was no stopping at that point. As we connected with
the bank the bow of our boat lifted as it came to a safe stop.
The push boat went through the bridge and then the bridge began to close. I blew a signal to open the bridge and I
don’t think that the bridge tender thought we would be coming any time soon but we surprised him and ourselves. I
just backed off the bank and we continued on our way. Jane didn’t like those push boats for a number of reasons.
One of which was their huge size and lack of maneuverability, which made us do a lot of pre- planning each time we
would meet one. Later on in our boating experiences we would witness several colossal accidents involving these
push boats.
This afternoon we pulled off the main channel in the Cape Fear River and anchored for the night. The current was
extra brisk in speed especially on the ebb tide. We were treated to a school of porpoises that took special delight in
playfully putting on a show for us as we anchored. I believe that these creatures that have a perpetual smile on their
face have more fun than people do.
November 19th it was not a restful night because of the gushing of water rushing past our hull especially on the
ebb tide. Our VDO Sum-Log that measures our speed and distance through the water racked up many a mile as we
sat anchored over the night. We were up early and underway by 7 AM.
This was going to be a long day on the waterway. We were being prodded along by the cold fall weather and the
hope of some Florida sunshine. That destination kept getting closer and closer as we chugged along.
Oh, by the way!
This night we would be entering yet another state, South Carolina. This was a very historical state in American
history. It was among the original 13 colonies that first started the America we know today. The State was also the
first state to succeed from the Union and start the American Civil War, by far the bloodiest conflict that the United
States of America has ever known. This is the “Heart of Dixie” where after nearly a century and a half since the end
of that terrible war the locals still go into a rage at the mere thought of a “Yankee”. In South Carolina they are
known as “Damn Yankees” to this day. As much as I hate this next word “nigger” I soon found out that that there was
one thing worse than a “nigger” in South Carolina and that was a “Damn Yankee”…well we are Yankees because for
one thing we talk funny. In 1972 a Yankee accent could still get you lynched in the “Heart of Dixie”.
Back to our travels;
Our next adventure was about to begin.
We were slowly overtaking a huge push boat and long string of barges that it was pushing.
This section of the Intracoastal Waterway was cut from the rock and had squarely defined sides where you could
observe the wakes of the boat traffic clearly breaking. This was not like other places where the waterway was
dredged and had sloping banks of sand or mud that tapered away from the channel.
As I approached this push boat I took this information into account as I pulled up behind the push boat and began to
pass it.
One thing that I totally left out of this equation of my logical thought was the fact that the push boat with its multi-
thousands of horsepower was in fact pulling all of the water from in front of it and thrusting it out past its stern, in
order to move forward.
Another thing I didn’t equate was our very deep draft that would seriously be affected by any cross currents.
Out in open waters this passing process would not be something that would even merit a second thought.
Well, the difference in our speed was slight so that passing would require a good deal of time.
I gave it my undivided attention and began the process. That push boat was huge, four stories tall and very long.
All went well as we passed the main part of the push boat but when we got even with the bow of the push boat a
strange and uncontrollable thing happened. I only had a second to yell to Jane, “Hang on!”
What happened next was amazing. Our vessel was slammed broadside into the push boat with full force and we
were helplessly impaled on the push boat.
Our boat was immediately heeled over at a thirty-degree angle where it would remain until the personal from the
push boat came to inspect the damage.
It was determined that we were not holed or leaking any water and then the push boat diminished its power and
allowed us to float away.
I did learn something new with this incident and Jane only reinforced her fear of these huge cumbersome giants or
the waterway.
We were definitely shaken and the vision of doom flashed before our eyes as this whole episode unfolded.
Our hull flexed and recoiled back to its original shape after the impact but within our boat we did sustain damage to
a bulkhead that was shoved over about six inches and did not return to its original position after the impact.
We were extremely lucky. If we would have had a smaller vessel with less buoyancy it more than likely would have
been swept under the push boat and I would not be here to be writing this account.
This section of the waterway might have been more pleasant in a different season of the year but now with the cold
weather and short days and no places to pull over and anchor or tie up it had little appeal.
By 5:30 PM we found a wide place in the waterway just past the Socastee Bridge that was evidently a place
previously made to park commercial vessels. It had overgrown with large trees that hung out from the bank but we
just nudged in and tied to those trees.
It wasn’t much but we had a long and taxing day and we were definitely ready to quit at this point.
We would remember this day in our boating career as not a pleasant one. We started out without a good nights
sleep and then spent too many hours under way plus our collision experience all made the day way more than we
wanted or needed. If this was going to be the worst we would have, we could live with that.
November 20th we departed early and only made a six-hour day stopping at the Georgetown, South Carolina Esso
Fuel dock for fuel and also to get some much needed rest and relaxation.
November 21st we put in another long day of eleven hours and the only notable thing this day was the fact that we
actually spotted our very first palm tree. It doesn’t seem like much now but at the time after all of our adventuresome
and extensive travels from our beginnings far up on western Lake Superior to the “Heart of Dixie” it was a real
transformation.
The most impressive thing about boating here between Charleston, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia are the
high tides and swift currents.
This night we would anchor right downtown in Charleston on the Ashley River. We had been so many nights out in
the rural back country with little or no traffic or commotion that this spot adjacent to this bridge that had high traffic
flow was a shock.
The city lights and occasional siren of an emergency vehicle made us want to quickly retreat to the backcountry with
its solitude.
November 22nd leaving Charleston we waited until after nine AM because of the reason that there were bridge
restrictions that limited the openings due to heavy city traffic. We didn’t want to linger and be waiting for a bridge to
open in these currents. It wouldn’t be too bad if you were the only boat waiting but more than likely there would be
several and perhaps even a push boat thrown in to make things even more interesting and challenging.
We were becoming more adept at handling our boat in these currents but we needed plenty of maneuvering space
with the strong currents and our boats inability to come to a stop.
As we were entering the “big sound country”, (known as bays elsewhere), we would encounter fog banks that would
suddenly appear and disappear on a moments notice this particular season. I instinctively would record our
compass heading which would at least get you to the next marker if the fog set in unexpectedly.
At the Edisto River we saw a push boat that lost control of his nine or so barges and they went in all directions and
bounced around in the strong currents like so many corks tossed into the rapids. The push boat operator was going
to have a monumental job just retrieving his barges and reorganizing his flotilla. We cautiously went through the
maze of helter-skelter barges as the push boat operator was blowing black smoke from his stack in an attempt to
round up his barges.
Another interesting event took place as we were headed out one of the sounds and the fog set in. Several boats
had gathered waiting for the fog to lift or shift when a large plush pleasure yacht came by going our direction with his
radar operating. All of the waiting boats fell in behind him like a row of little ducks behind their mother and off we all
went into the fog.
At a quarter to five that afternoon we anchored up in the Coosaw River, South Carolina. It had been another long
day and we needed a quiet place to snooze after our sixty statute mile day.
November 23rd : this day we continued south through the “big sound country” with its wild currents and high tides
and the adventures ocontinue in chapter 9.
next chapter
Chesapeake Skipjack oyster fishing boat.
A SKIPJACK HISTORY
The "Skipjack" apparently first appeared on the
Lower Eastern Shore of Maryland in the late
1800s. Its development was precipitated by the
decline in oyster harvests, and the need for an
inexpensive shallow draft vessel. The design
hasn't changed in over 150 years, and the
average Skipjack has now lasted well over
three-quarters of a century, a tribute to their
excellent construction. Skipjacks carry a sail
design known as the "Leg-O-Mutton" Sloop Rig
consisting of a main sail and a jib. The standard
design formula calls for a mast height which is
the same the as length of the vessel on deck,
plus the width of the beam. According to legend,
no Skipjack was ever built from a formal set of
plans, but rather by "rack of the eye".
A SKIPJACK HISTORY
The "Skipjack" apparently first appeared on the
Lower Eastern Shore of Maryland in the late
1800s. Its development was precipitated by the
decline in oyster harvests, and the need for an
inexpensive shallow draft vessel. The design
hasn't changed in over 150 years, and the
average Skipjack has now lasted well over
three-quarters of a century, a tribute to their
excellent construction. Skipjacks carry a sail
design known as the "Leg-O-Mutton" Sloop Rig
consisting of a main sail and a jib. The standard
design formula calls for a mast height which is
the same the as length of the vessel on deck,
plus the width of the beam. According to legend,
no Skipjack was ever built from a formal set of
plans, but rather by "rack of the eye".
