Sailing south: Cape Cod to Lookout Bight

 A couple weeks back, Cynthia and Lucy and Monty and I finally raised our sails, dropped the mooring line, and headed south. 

The moving parts of life dictated that I leave the boat in NC or FL for a month while visiting CA and that Cynthia and Lucy fly out of Norfolk. Wind and waves dictated that we stop in Delaware Bay for a couple days to wait out a storm.

Moving along, we entered the Chesapeake around dawn, actually needing to motor a bit across the glassy water. 

Monty eagerly sniffed the air and looked at the shore, obviously aching for sandy beaches. Lucy, as usual, relaxed in patience, probably cuddled up beside me or Cynthia.

The Chesapeake is BUSY around Norfolk, full of active military bases and commercial shipping and recreational boating. Even has some crumbling old forts: here is Fort Wool: 

The fort is cool; but I dislike the crowding, the developed shorelines, the giant container ships and tankers, and (especially) the military vessels that are all over the place with no AIS to show up on my instruments. Sailing here requires constant attention, somewhat like sailing in Maine with a sailboat that snags lobster pot lines: not pleasant.

SO, once Cynthia and Lucy had taken a taxi to the airport I found myself aching to head to the open sea AT ONCE and did so, despite low wind forecasts. I made it into the open, a few miles off Virginia Beach, before the sun set and the wind died to nothing. 

What to do? So I heaved-to and cooked and took photos.

At around 10:00pm, with little traffic showing, Monty and I crawled into bed to await the forecasted wind. And at 2:00am the boat heeled over slightly, the boat movement and noises changed, and I rose from bed to raise the sails; leaving Monty tucked into the blankets.

Gentle wind moved us along nicely through the dark (I saw two shooting stars!) until sunrise, made unique by clouds and contrails.

Waves built up during the day as I headed for Cape Hatteras and the deadly shoals that extend out for many miles. This is one of the many places where I feel a great gratitude for modern charts and GPS, letting me know where I am at all times... although I have seen plenty of issues with charts, especially in Cape Cod where shoals move often. Anyway, I am always concerned going around Cape Hatteras as the Gulf Stream clips the end of the shoal, causing the north wind I typically ride on my trip south to kick up far bigger waves than in more normal conditions..... and this time I would be rounding the Cape around 1am with winds around 20kts....

In the darkness, I tried to get little naps, hoping to be better rested for the shoals. Wind picked up and overpowered the autopilot, so I had to go out on deck a few times to adjust things... and this was complex. You see, Monty kept wanting to come out and pee; so I would put on my harness, set him on deck while blocking any access to the non-netted sections of the boat, lift him back into the cockpit, zip down the enclosure so he would be OK, then CAREFULLY make my way to the mast, never moving without a secure handhold and timing my steps with the boat motion. Once at the mast, I clip my harness to a secure point, do my work, and then unclip and head back. 

My movements made me think of a sloth, moving along slowly and deliberately, never rushing. When I had a construction business I would tell new employees that no item is worth an injury and sailing is the same. And a nightmare scenario I've often seen in my head is myself in the water, watching the boat sail away unmanned. This has recently gotten even WORSE: now I imagine Monty on board, alone and helpless. And I think this is a good thing to think of as it really really increases my caution.

Along with these thoughts, as I stood at the mast I noticed the shock of two small waves slapping the hull, the roar of the bow wave as I slid down a rushing wave, the whiteness of a large cresting wave behind the boat, the vibration of the propeller turning to a judder as our speed reaches 7 knots or so as we surfed down a wave. And I noticed that this is one of the times I feel most alive, most in tune with the universe. I MISS this badly when I live in a house!

Anyway, we rounded the shoal, avoided the unseen unlighted marker that may exist only on the charts, and headed for Cape Lookout Shoal, another 12 hours sailing in pretty good waves. 

Another several hours (upwind: ugh!) took us to Lookout Bight at sunset.

We dropped anchor, took a walk, and fell asleep.

Monty LOVES this place!