Family
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BEFORE WE LEFT I HAD MY DOUBTS. MY WIFE TERRY AND I, OUR
6-year-old twins, and our tall 13-year-old son on a 38-foot
trawler living together for three weeks, and only six
months cruising experience under our belts. I had
wondered if after the first week I would be traveling alone.
As it turned out, we never wanted to go home at all, and
even as our first trip was ending we were planning our
next one. The time we spent as a family, enjoying every
meal together, seeing and experiencing new things, and
working together made this trip a favorite memory. It is
like that credit card commercial. Cost of the boat: X, cost
of repairs and fuel: Y, memories: priceless.
We purchased our trawler in December 2001, having
had minimal experience with boats and none at all on
large bodies of water. We had planned to spend the
summer “getting acquainted” with the boat before we set
off from Pocahontas Marina on Maryland’s South River,
down the Intracoastal Waterway. Our initiation into the
world of boats was at times interesting and frustrating, but
we discovered that caution and curiosity were keys that
helped us unlock the doors that slowly gave us confidence
in what we were doing. We also realized that the folks we
found on and around the water were more willing than
any we’d ever met to share their experiences and lend a
helping hand. Our boat is named Pilgrimage, which it
continues to be for us.
Not Enough Fruit...Too Many Clothes!
Our planning for the ICW trip actually began shortly
after we purchased the boat. Our oldest daughter, Kate,
and her husband, Matt, a recent graduate of the U.S. Naval
Academy in Annapolis, were stationed in Charleston,
South Carolina. What better way to visit them than by
boat? After ordering all of the back issues of PMM that had
stories about the ICW, as well as poring over the chart
books and guides, I discovered that the mechanics of
proceeding from point A to point B via the ICW were
really not that difficult. Anyone who has gunkholed
around Chesapeake Bay is probably very intimate with
shallow water and keeps a keen eye on the depth
sounder. The buoy system is straightforward, and the folks
you meet along the way are free with helpful advice. Our
biggest concerns were how to fill the time for the twins,
Jenna and Victoria, when we were under way, and what
to bring for eating and wearing. (Not enough fruit, and too
many clothes!)
The day before leaving was spent doing last-minute shopping, mostly for the children: latch-hook
kits and crochet yarn, library videos, and activity
and coloring books that we would dole out
strategically. We had earlier purchased a small
TV with a video player attached, and during the
long stretches the girls watched Moses, Mary
Poppins or The Story Keepers. Their teacher also
assigned them a journal to complete, and it was
both funny and enlightening to see our voyage
through their eyes. Our son Andrew was homeschooled,
and was working on a journal as well.
Most of the activity, though, centered on endless
games of “Uno” and paper football, and various
art projects.
After loading the van, we piled in to spend the
night at the marina for an early start the next
day. The trip started off pretty rough. We
slogged our way south, the edges of a tropical
storm making for a bumpy ride into the northbound
swells. The overcast and rainy weather
followed us for the next four days. Our first stop
was in Solomons, Maryland, to visit some friends
we hadn’t seen in a while. (Is there anything
better than seeing old friends?) That night at
dinner my children learned how to crack fresh
crabs, and we enjoyed each other’s company as
we dined. We tied up at a marina that night and
went to “sleep” listening to a local rock band
torture the anthems of my youth.
We awoke the next morning to a strong
southwest wind and a dampish day. I spent
most of my free time reviewing in my mind the
pros and cons of where we would anchor that
night. This was to be a morning ritual for me—
agonizing over how far we would go and where
we would anchor. The stretch between
Solomons and Norfolk didn’t offer much, it
seemed to me, in the way of choices. But I will
say now that every place we dangled off our
line on that trip was great, and the one we
selected that night was no different.
Surprises Abound
Heading toward our first overnight anchorage
at Gwyn Island we confronted the first of many
bridge openings. With everyone in their foul
weather gear lining the bow of our boat, we
witnessed the amazing feat of engineering as tons
of steel moved aside so we could pass under.
We had brought Terry’s bread machine, and
although outside it was drizzly, the scent of
fresh-baked bread and a hot meal put us in a
good mood. We went to sleep that night looking
forward to arriving in Norfolk and the trip south
along the ICW.
Our journey through the waterway was
preceded by the first “dolphin event” in Mobjack
Bay. For all of the “crusty” sailors out there, this
I am sure is quite routine and unremarkable, but for my girls it was a highlight of the trip. Their
excitement over seeing those dolphins had me
driving in circles as we tried to see as many as
we could. Later we would see many more, but
they never ceased to captivate my crew.
Throughout our trip, we tried to anchor when
we could. Andrew would take the dinghy
exploring, and the girls would swim—no matter
how cold or how nasty the water looked—they
were in there! Sitting with my wife on the back
deck watching the girls swim, enjoying a glass
of wine together, alone in the middle of nowhere,
was a rare and unforeseen pleasure. Our
dinners were later than usual, as we prolonged
those unique and wonderful evenings.
Norfolk was another surprise. Chapman’s is
very clear on the rules of the road, and staying
out of the way of the numerous barges kept my
attention. If I had thought about what I was
doing, I probably would have been more intimidated
than I was. My son was amazed (as we all
were) at the size and proximity of the huge
naval vessels. Needless to say, we have more
footage of Navy ships than a Victory at Sea flick.
The following morning found us part of a
three-boat flotilla, scurrying through the various
bridges as we made our way south. Either I
missed it in all of the books I had read or it
wasn’t included, but the timing of cruising south
works out perfectly for the bridge and lock
times. Keeping a 6-knot pace and leaving at
about 7 a.m. enabled us to proceed with a minimum
of delay. Not that we were in any hurry.
Even the rusty-iron, worn-out workmanlike
environment of that portion of the Elizabeth
River was interesting to us. I had read recently
in Chesapeake Magazine that fishing on that
river has improved markedly as the quality of
the water has improved.
Electing to bypass the Dismal Swamp Canal,
we went through our first lock at Great Bridge,
and the folks there were friendly and helpful.
After the last few bridges the scenery changed
once again, and the trip settled into the rhythm
of life on the water.
We enjoyed the early mornings, and on one
memorable one our son awoke us to view a
spectacular sunrise. Big surprise, as our son normally
pursues sleeping in with the singlemindedness
of a religious zealot. When the pace
of the day is dictated at 7 knots, there is less of
an inclination to hurry. On another morning we
did get an earlier start in order to reach Belhaven,
North Carolina, for lunch. We thought we
would take on some water and fuel and offload
some of our trash there. The marina where we
docked lent us their golf cart to take into town,
and we enjoyed a terrific lunch and shopped a bit
in the beautiful, small Southern town before taking our leave. The golf cart was a big hit with
my crew. That afternoon we arrived at our
anchorage in a grassy, marshy area populated
with crab pots and very active fish. As was our
custom, we all took a tour of the little backwater
creeks in our dinghy, and the liveliness of the fish
jumping and carrying on had all of us laughing.
The laughter ended, however, later on that
evening when we were introduced to “mosquito
nation.” We left early the next morning.
Beautiful Beaufort
After a week of travel, we arrived at the town
of Beaufort, North Carolina, where we would
meet Kate and her husband. A surprise treat
awaited us at the local museum. An author
whom we had followed in the local bay
magazines was speaking. She had made a trip
up the Chesapeake following in John Smith’s
footsteps. Seeing her slides of the bay, I would
think to myself, “Yep, we’ve been there” or “I
recognize this.” More than that though, the
thoughts that I had of the places we hadn’t been
were, “We need to go there next summer” or
“That place definitely needs investigation!”
Our slip at the Beaufort town docks was in a
convenient location, and the walk to the
museum and anywhere in town was easy. It was
also fun to marvel at the size of some of the
boats there—some of which had their own
crews with uniforms—and speculate about
where they were from and where they were
going. I still wouldn’t have traded our home
away from home, with various pieces of laundry
hanging on a line, a crew of noisy 6-year-olds
dashing about and a 13-year-old who was
turning into a pretty decent helmsman.
The day after Kate and Matt arrived to meet
us, we unlashed our moorings and cruised out to the Cape Lookout lighthouse. For all of those
who are traveling either north or south via the
ICW, this bit of diversion is well worth the time
spent. The water is Gulf Stream clear and we
spent the day anchored in the protected hook of
an island, where we snorkeled and swam and
flew the girls’ kites. Going and coming we were
greeted by some playful dolphins, which
created excitement and pleasure for the crew,
who would drop whatever they were doing to
run to the rails. None of us was ready to leave
Beaufort when the time came to do so.
Heading Home In Rough Weather
The return trip featured a couple of serendipitous
events, which came about as a result of
aborted travel plans due to weather conditions.
Jim Foster (bless you, Jim, for your attention to
detail and the exquisite condition of your boat),
who sold us our boat and helped me get
acquainted with some of the mechanical
systems, advised me that if anyone on the crew
was uncomfortable with the travel conditions,
perhaps it would be wise to wait another day.
So after deciding to wait a day before leaving
Norfolk, and while anchored in Willoughby Bay,
we were treated to a demonstration of Navy
SEALS plopping in and being yanked from the
water by a helicopter. We had a front row-seat
and were entertained for hours!
The second time we decided to wait, we
ended up in Reedville, Virginia, home of the last
menhaden processing operation. We were
fortunate enough to have one of the longtime
pilots and plant managers share with us the
details of the operation and fishing for these
fish. At one time, I believe, there were 32 such
plants in operation, but now some of the rusting
ships with their “purse” boats sit idly by,
reminders of more prosperous times. Reedville
is definitely a place worth returning to.
It happens predictably every time we return to
our marina after a cruise; I hate leaving the boat.
We were gone three weeks, and I could have
easily turned around and left again. We ate
every meal together as a family, something that
is rare with our busy schedules of work and
activities at home. We played games and every
night watched a segment of a Horatio Hornblower
video as a special treat. We had our
moments, of course (fortunately, Chapman’s
doesn’t address keelhauling), but they were rare
and were certainly outweighed by the memorable
exploits we shared.
Pilgrimage is more to us than just a boat. She
is an adventure we look forward to, pregnant
with all the possibilities of new places, new
experiences and time spent together as a family.
Priceless.
Reprinted with permission. Copyright 2003 © Dominion Enterprises (888.487.2953) www.passagemaker.com
You are reading the text-only copy of this article. To access the article as it appeared in PassageMaker Magazine, please log in to purchase and download the PDF version of this article.