Our rather uncomfortable ride from Block Island to the Delaware River turned out to be well timed, indeed. Although we did that passage with stronger winds and higher seas than we'd like, it turns out we would probably have gotten stuck there for at least a few weeks if we'd waited. While we were bashing south along the New Jersey coastline, a tropical storm down in the Bahamas was organizing itself into a Category 4 hurricane soon to be named Joaquin.


Sunset at Cape Henlopen, at the mouth of the Delaware River, the night we traveled up the river toward the Chesapeake Bay via the C&D Canal.

We left Cape Henlopen at the mouth of the Delaware River at 2:30 am on September 25 to take advantage of a strong flood current that helped shoot us up the river at a good clip to the C&D Canal, which connects the river to the northern reaches of the Chesapeake Bay. Had we chosen to keep going on the Delaware, we would have ended up in Philadelphia. Perhaps another time...

Once we reached the Chesapeake in the afternoon, we still had four hours to go to reach our destination in the Sassafras River. Normally we anchor out about a mile up the river after this passage, but weather predictions at this point were becoming increasingly urgent. Joaquin was now a Category 3 hurricane about to hit the outer Bahamian islands, with most weather models projecting a northwest trajectory that would propel the storm directly onto the U.S. mid-Atlantic shore. So we opted to travel eight miles up the Sassafras to tie up at the Georgetown Yacht Basin, an out-of-the way but nice marina whose waters were about as protected as we were going to find, under the circumstances.


Pretty farms dot the shores of the Sassafras River.

The ride up that river is lovely; it winds and twists, gradually narrowing as it meanders past woods, fields, and waterfront homes on slow-moving, clear, jade-green water. However, we were much too exhausted after 15 hours of nonstop travel to really appreciate the last few hours of that journey. We arrived at last around 6:00 pm, tied up, showered, and trudged up the hill to the local B&B and restaurant, Kitty Knight House, where we gratefully tucked into a hot and quite delicious meal.

At the marina office the next morning, we signed up for a four night stay, and settled down to work on various boat projects while we waited for Joaquin to make up its mind where it was going. But those four nights stretched into a week and, ultimately, ten days as we waited out the capricious hurricane. Now a Category 4 hurricane, it roared through the Bahamas and headed toward U.S. shores. At the same time, a strong nor'easter bore down upon us, bringing 30 knot winds and very cold temperatures.

The nor'easter turned out to be the worst thing we'd face. Eventually, the Euro weather prediction model was vindicated in predicting that Joaquin would veer away from our coastline and head northeast toward Bermuda and out to sea. Not knowing that, however, folks all along the eastern seaboard began locking down. Our favorite boatyard in Oriental, NC, Deaton Yacht Service, told us on the phone that they were in full hurricane lockdown mode, hauling out every boat and securing them on land, removing all sails and canvas and anything else that might get blown away.

This got us to thinking that if we did get in the path of the storm, we'd have a lot of work on our hands. We'd have to deflate our dinghy and lash it down on deck, take down all our sails as well as anything that might get damaged or blown away: canvas covering our bimini and dodger, extra lines, the gas can, you name it. And then we'd likely have to leave the boat and go stay in the B&B. Our boat was already secured to pilings with six different lines, but waters were rising at an alarming rate, exacerbated by the strong pull of the blood moon. Predictions were for those fixed docks to be as much as eight feet under water, obviously posing a significant challenge to keeping Thalia securely tied to the six foot tall pilings. A 90' motor yacht docked across from us actually arranged to be hauled out in anticipation of the storm. We couldn't even imagine how many thousands of dollars that must have cost, and fervently hoped we wouldn't regret not having done the same despite not being able to afford it.


I worked on perfecting my whole grain bread recipe while waiting out the weather. Not only did it taste good - we used the freshly milled rye and wheat flours we bought in Maine - but the oven helped keep our cabin toasty.

As temperatures dropped and winds rose, we realized we couldn't use our onboard diesel heater - our only source of warmth onboard - because high winds tend to extinguish it, filling the cabin with acrid smoke. So we settled for lots of layers of clothes and a large pot of black bean soup to stay as warm as we could. At one point when we started shivering we broke out our heat gun (used for removing varnish) and turned that on, sitting it upright on our salon table to get us a few degrees of comfort.


Captain Enzo sporting his new alpaca sweater, which I worked steadily on to try to finish while in Georgetown. I didn't get it finished until more than a week later, but he loves it and has hardly taken it off since.

Prior to the really nasty weather arriving, we managed to get in daily bike rides to explore the area, stumbling upon a wonderful natural foods store in the tiny nearby town of Galena, where we scored local cider, fruits and vegetables, pastured meats, and the best milk and butter we've found in our nearly two years aboard. We also spent a very enjoyable evening aboard with two of our favorite people, our daughter-in-law Meghan's parents Dee and John, who drove over from Baltimore to have dinner with us. And we made some new friends in fellow cruisers Gary and Janna aboard S/V Mañana, who like us were waiting out the weather.


A full moon, shown here during the full lunar eclipse, exacerbated the high tides brought on by the storm.

Once the hurricane headed offshore, leaving behind high waters on the Chesapeake and significant flooding in the Carolinas, we began to look at moving on. We had to wait a few more days for the nor'easter to die down and the high winds and waters to subside. Ten days after we had arrived in Georgetown, we finally motored back down the Sassafras on a chilly but sunny day, noting a significant amount of logs and other debris on the Chesapeake. It was interesting to note some of the aftereffects of the weather that would never have occurred to us: high waters made transiting under navigational bridges a challenge for many sailboats. Our own mast is about 58' high; the bridges usually have 64' clearance. At high tide with swollen rivers, a number of these bridges proved impassable or at least very dicey for anyone with similar mast heights. And a number of fuel docks flooded during the storm, contaminating diesel fuel tanks with water. Floating debris in rivers also caused concern in many areas.

Obviously, we dodged a bullet with this storm. Howling 30+ knot winds were scary enough, lying in bed at night listening to our dock lines straining and waves slapping our hull. It was and still is difficult to imagine what 125 knot winds would be like. We have been very appreciative of the fine fall weather we've had since then, as we've slowly continued our exploration of the bay on our way south.