It all started innocently enough, a friend (Matt) participating in the MS Bike Ride in New Bern asked if I was interested in providing transportation and accommodations for the weekend. After two years of day-sailing and only a few days of even that in the last year, it was impossible to pass up. The admiral was busy with mid-terms so I decided to take my 4-yr-old daughter, found another guy (Brian) for crew and took the Friday off. Time to make a weekend of it...
Well, the transportation part was shaky since we actually have to drive through New Bern to get to the boat and Matt would leave his car with the bike on it at the marina. Then we would drive another 30 min to Oriental, where the boat is; pack up and sail six hours back to the same marina.
The accommodation part was also shaky since I would take the V-berth with my daughter and one of the two guys would be stuck with the short settee. Even if I persuaded my daughter to sleep in the q-berth or short settee I am sure they would not want to snuggle up in the v-berth. In the end this was solved when Brian decided to enjoy the nice weather and sleep in the cockpit.
Oh well, it was an excuse to cruise for three days, why pass it up? Plus my 4-year old daughter had, unprompted, asked to go sailing the week before when I said I was going to the boat to install the companionway teak
All week we were keeping an eye on the tropical depression that was to become Gabrielle to see if we would go. Then Thursday the reports said it had all but dissipated so we decided we're good to go. Packed up Friday morning and after dropping off Matt's car in New Bern, drove to Oriental, loaded all the gear in the boat and shoved off. We were a few hours behind when I wanted to leave, but that would mean we would get there at dinner time instead of enjoying a cold one after tying up and watching the sunset.
It was a very pleasant downhill ride all the way into New Bern. We had to motor only once for 200 yds to line up with the channel (and avoid two gybes). Brian practiced his downwind steering, Matt practiced navigation using two GPSs (you can display an amazing amount of data if you have two identical GPSs side-by-side on different screens) the NC chart book and the route I printed out and we generally chilled out. We got to New Bern around dusk, found our berth and tied up. Matt went to sign up for the bike ride while Talya and I got our v-berth set up. We walked around New Bern for a while, found a nice place to eat and had dinner. Back at the boat we turned in early as it was Talya's bed time and Matt had a 75 or 100 mile ride the next day.
Saturday started out slow, Matt left early and the rest of us slept late. Then we ate breakfast, went to the park where the bike ride festivities were going on. Talya did her loop around the park to earn her ice cream, ate said ice cream, chased ducks and in general we had a good time. Then back to the boat for a nap (it was her nap time and I was beat from running after a tricycle for two hours). We managed to miss Matt's arrival back at the park (even though he called us and gave us an hour warning). While having lunch (at 4pm) we started overhearing people talking about Gabrielle (cue barely audible foreboding music). So we got the handheld VHF and started listening to the weather channel. What's this about "Hurricane Gabrielle"? At this point they are predicting 15-20 knt winds overnight and 25-30 tomorrow. We figure we leave early, when winds get over 20 we pack the sails, hug the winward shore and put-put home. So we go swim in the pool and get ready to go to bed early.
When we get out of the pool, it is 15-25 overnight 30-50 tomorrow. And I am guessing the last 3-4 miles the wind will be on the nose. I am not sure we can motor into that even with no chop. So change of plan: we shove off now, execute same plan tonight (sail until it gets windy or we turn upwind, whichever comes first, motor the rest of the way home). Going home slowly in the dark sure sounded safer than motoring in 50 knt winds. So we jump into action. Brian and I packed up the boat while Matt drove to the nearest store to buy one of those million-candle lights.
We left around 7:30 with just enough wind to push us out around 4knts. Once we get over the initial anxiety of sailing in the dark (none of us had done it before), it turned into a beautiful and pretty calm sail as we were in the protected part of the Neuse sailing on flat water. Brian steered while Matt identified the next blinking nav marker to aim at on the chart. I mostly sat there while Talya slept on my lap. We all agreed this was a very pleasant experience. We got lit a few times by boats (I guess) trying to figure out this oddly lit boat (everybody else was a power boat). Until...
At some point we needed to tack to get around a point and get back on line. I decided since we were trying to hurry home, we'd motor upwind to get on track rather than tack and probably gain 5-10 minutes every time we did this. Since the engine overheated last year, I keep an eye on the gauges whenever the engine is on. I noticed the needle went past "straight up" in the few minutes we ran it. Oops. So I waited for the engine to cool down, topped off the coolant, disassembled the intake filter and put it all back together. Next time the engine heated up quickly again and I am clueless at this point. So we decide we need to sail closer to home before we use the engine. Hey, sounded good at the time.
On the way, the wind finally got too much and we reefed in the middle of the Neuse. I guess I owe the self-appointed foredeck gorilla (Matt) a few beers as I have heard it is bad manners to reef sailing upwind. Also since we do not have a jackline, Matt had to crawl to the mast before he could secure himself. With the main reefed and the jib at 80%, Enka settled down and we resumed our 4-knt jog.
One of the waypoints in the Neuse is the Adams Creek entrance (which is where the ICW leaves the Pamlico/Neuse and goes up Adams Creek then over to the coast). Usually in N to NE winds, from that marker home is a close-hauled fast ride. We made the AC1 marker and I felt better, as the wind had not built up yet and the chop was around 1-2 feet.
We tacked to port to see how close to home we can aim and it got weird. First, the chop and the wind were not lined up, so we were getting broadsided even as close-hauled as we could go. Second, the boat developed some lee-helm (we were sailing with the tiller 10-15 degrees leeward). So I reduced the headsail some more (more analysis of this below) and cranked on the backstay adjuster. That helped for a while but the lee helm kept getting worse, which was making for anxious sailing.
This is when my daughter decided to get seasick at a point when none of us could go anywhere. Brian, ever the brave honorary uncle, held her in his lap while our feet were, well y'all get the idea. This was definitely not good for my state of mind (as the concept of stressing out one's 4-yr old daughter that Mama has trusted to you for the first time was not making me feel like super-dad).
Worse yet, we did not seem to be making any progress "uphill" and I was figuring out we would need 4-5 more out-n-back to make the marina (again, more on this below). That's when the bigger rollers started coming in; from where I have no idea as the wind should have been that high for a few hours at most. Of course with the wind direction, the waves would have more than 50 miles to build. Anyway, each starboard tack trying to aim at the marina we were getting broadsided by big rollers which finally started breaking around us.
At some point while getting ready to roll off the back of a big roller, I see lit in the green light a roller higher than where we were. So I aim into it, knowing it is going to stop us dead but better than getting slapped by that thing. I do not know if I oversteered or the second wave lifted the bow or what. Next thing I know we come about, I yell at Matt to release the jib but before he can uncleat it my brain registers a 360 so I tell everybody to stay put and look up (the north shore at this point has Oriental and the marinas, the south shore is completely dark) and see lights ahead. We somehow took off home again. I look at where the waves are coming from and see bigger ones on the way. The brain stopped, the wheels came off and I said enough is enough I am not doing another tack back out to these waves. Start the engine, send Matt to the front hatch to direct us and start calling tow on 16. The engine is overheating, I am not slowing down. The engine is smoking, Matt is humming the "Jaws" theme in the front hatch with smoke around his ears, I am not slowing down. At some point the smoke detector goes off, so I threw it overboard (can you guess the state of mind at this point?) The engine started slowing down and I did something I never thought I'd do to a poor inanimate object trying to serve me best it can: I ask it to take one for the team, reach down and push the throttle over. We speed up again, make the channel and before we can register we are out of the waves the engine stops.
I tell Brian to turn and run aground but we do not have enough momentum so we start drifting back out. THEN I remember the anchor and we anchor off the channel. Cannot raise tow at 2 am, so I call the 800 number and after some calls back-n-forth we talk to the captain who said he'd be out in 15-20 minutes. Now we can relax as the wind clears the smoke out. I sat with my daughter to calm her down and uttered those immortal words: "the worst is over". So of course it starts pouring rain. We put on whatever raingear we have and sit under the bimini getting soaked. The tow finally showed up, towed us into the marina and helped us tie up. My daughter finally speaks up and says "are we at the car?" Yes honey. "Could you put me in my car seat and buckle me up?" Ouch, that dagger in the heart hurt. So we packed up the boat best we could and drove to the only hotel in Oriental. They are of course closed as expected but the only number on the office door was 911. I get the point. Back to the marina and slept on the floor.
Sunday it is gray but I can swear the wind is calmer than last night (except the masts that are humming). We drive back to New Bern to get Matt's car and find a coffee shop. As my daughter is just staring at her breakfast, Matt thinks to tell her that we are not going sailing anymore. She brightens up, eats her breakfast and most of mine. Double ouch. So we go home.
The good news:
First, the admiral did not kill me when we got home
Second, my daughter already asked when we're going sailing again. Amazing things, kids.
Now the admiral said she'd let me write this if I mentioned three things:
1. Since the boat, insurance and everything is in the admiral's name and she kept her maiden name, the 800 guy from Boat US kept calling me Mr. Admiral. My wife thought this was hilarious
2. She has already ordered me to take good care of Enka and make sure she gets her engine back and in good shape.
3. Next time she is coming to keep me straight
Pictures are at
this location