Just before Trawler Fest in Solomons, we decided to bring Growler down to the event from Annapolis. Another single-screw boat was needed for the women-only boat-handling course because of a last-minute change. So my lobsterboat was assigned duty.
Coincidentally, our neighbors had planned to head down to the event as well on their Selene 40. Early one morning, the two boats slipped their docklines at precisely the same moment to begin the 50-mile trip south on Chesapeake Bay to Solomons, on the Patuxent River.
We had not planned to travel together, but the timing of our departures seemed so serendipitous that I decided to accompany Lunar Lady at her displacement speed, rather than blasting down the bay at Growler’s 15-knot cruise speed. Winding around Whitehall Creek’s zigzag channel into Whitehall Bay, I sat back in the helm chair and prepared to enjoy a trip in the slow lane. Lunar Lady cruises at 7.5 knots, and with the help of an ebbing tide, she made a solid 8 knots on her course south. The run would take between five and six hours at that speed.
I opened my “Home to Solomons” route in Coastal Navigator and saw that I’d last used it on Oct. 1, 2006—for my trip home from Trawler Fest last year. As I dodged crab pots in the shallow waters that border our entrance to Chesapeake Bay, I thought about all that had changed since last October.
While one part of my brain pondered the past, another part suddenly realized how relaxed I was, and how my mind wasn’t nearly as focused on driving the boat as it is at 15 knots. Watching Lunar Lady in front of me and seeing my friends on their flybridge enjoying an early morning run in calm conditions, I noticed that the chart plotter was not redrawing the screen as quickly as when running hard, nor did the engine seem to be working very hard at 1150 rpm. The world around me was quiet, with no spray and not much wake, and a noticeable lack of frenetic energy.
I’m on boats all the time at this speed, but running Growler at 8 knots for any distance is not my normal deal. My eyes weren’t darting across the gauges as they usually do, constantly scanning the horizon in all directions. The boat demanded much less from me. And it was delightful.
The absence of charging water rushing past the hull put me in a wonderful mood, and I sat back and watched the world go by. There was no need to close the windows to keep out the salt spray, no need for wipers. All the hatches and windows remained open, and the breeze felt great as the morning grew mature. Our two boats slid along with grace, and on the second half of the trip we began seeing other trawlers homing in on Trawler Fest.
A number of miles before reaching Solomons, I bid Lunar Lady goodbye and brought Growler up to speed to put a load on her engine. Running at 80 percent load for a while would be good for the diesel, especially since the majority of the upcoming boat-handling course would be conducted at idle.
On this lovely, cool day, I thoroughly enjoyed being on a boat at 8 knots, especially as I was alone and in no hurry. While I can easily make a case for speed that includes all the reasons we routinely discuss, I think the idea of displacement speed generally suffers a bad rap in today’s busy world. That’s not to say there aren’t times when pedal-to-the-metal gets the job done, no question.
For some, the price of fuel may dictate a reasoned adjustment in one’s approach to travel in the future. Cost advantages aside, traveling along like the proverbial turtle is pretty neat. The boat sips fuel, and you chill out while truly seeing the world that surrounds you, rather than being blinded by the blur of high-speed travel that emphasizes the destination over the journey.
There is room for both in our cruising world, of course. But, as so many trawler folks already know, the best thing about being a turtle is that wherever you stop, you’re home.