My maiden voyage on Grizabella, as documented earlier, was largely fantastic.

My family's maiden voyage - not so much. Due mostly to strategic error on my part and the unpredictable nature of weather.

Saturday, September 11, 2010, being my birthday, and having our "new" old boat, I convinced everyone that we should take her out for a little trip to some nice anchorage for a family overnighter.

Much preparations underaken, including the obligatory Dramamine II doses the night before, which proved beneficial.

The weather was beautiful and we left Queen's Creek by mid-day Saturday. Once we got out into the bay and hoisted the sails, I was having fun. Daughter #2 definitely was not. Wife Jody and Daughter #1, I think, were mostly a little nervous and bored, simultaneously.

The trip up to Antipoison Creek took longer than expected, because the wind was not coming from a convenient direction and there wasn't quite enough of it. But as far as I was concerned, it was nice sailing anyhow, and I was enjoying it.



As we rounded Windmill Point, my wife said, "I'm going to be disappointed I don't see any dolphins on this trip." My reply: "Well then, I think you're going to be disappointed."

Not half an hour later, to the amazement of all - including long-time sailors with many years experience on the Chesapeake who I told about it later - we sailed into a pod of what must have been about a dozen dolphins, some of them quite large. I think they were bottlenose, from what we could see.

I spied one first, about a hundred yards off the starboard bow. I saw a little spout in the water and a small gray hump. When we caught up, they all started swimming alongside our boat and jumping out of the water. They swam with us for probably 15 minutes, alternately showing up on the starboard bow, then the portside aft, then starboard aft, then disappearing, then suddenly leaping out of the water alongside, etc. We got some very good looks at them, and in several instances they were close enough that we literally could have leaned out of the boat and touched them.

One thing about dolphins - they are very hard to photograph. You wait and wait for them to surface, and when one finally does, you hit the button only to get a picture of the ripple left behind after they disappeared below the surface again. We were all to excited pointing and yelling "There they are - over here!" to take any pictures anyway. So you'll just have to believe me when I say my wife was not disappointed. And in fact, her seeing dolphins, in the wild, up close like that was probably the only thing that in any way saved the trip for her.



Antipoison Creek was lovely. Great anchorage. We ate dinner up in the cockpit as the sun went down and it got very nice and cool.



I was glad that everyone finally seemed to sort of actually be enjoying the experience.















Eventually we went to bed, as some weather started rolling in and the wind picked up.

And kept picking up.

The wind whistled through the rigging. The halyards started slapping off the mast, so I went up and tied them off. As we tried to sleep, the boat was bouncing and rocking around from the wind and waves. A slight rocking is restful. Tossing, however, is not. Particularly when it starts causing stowed items to roll around and bang back and forth. After getting up several times to investigate various clanking and thumping noises and secure loose items, I finally settled in. We had all the hatches open and a very nice, brisk breeze kept us pleasantly cool in the cabin. But nobody was sleeping.

Just as I started dozing I started feeling spray on my face. Because, of course, it had started to rain. So down come the hatches.

And then we got to discover where the cabin roof leaks were. Mostly right above where we were sleeping.

So nobody slept more than about 4 hours.

Upon peeking up through the companionway in the morning, I see that our previously lovely anchorage has become a wall of very wet grayness.





The good news was that despite all the wind and wave action, our anchor had not moved an inch. Credit the mucky bottom of the Chesapeake.

We made breakfast and then hauled the anchor and got underway.

The voyage back to the marina was long, messy and wet. The wind was blowing 15-20 knots; waves were probably 4 feet, and there was plenty of spray. My female companions were not happy.

Here I'm checking my GPS chartplotter, which was indispensible in the foul weather. That's Daughter #2 huddled in the corner, with a death grip on a stanchion - a position from which she did not move for several hours.



Daughter #2 occupied the other side of the cockpit and occupied herself with being soaking wet, cold and miserable because she had forgotten to bring along raingear.



I felt bad for them because I knew they were miserable, but I have to admit I actually was kinda enjoying it - although I tried not to, too much. Am I smiling too much in that pic?

Even with the Dramamine, they were all a bit green after a few hours of that.

My consolation was my wife giving me a hug and a kiss when we finally were standing on the dock, accompanied by "thank you for getting us back here safely." Although I never felt we were in any danger at all.

Grizabella may be old and dated in many ways, but she's a solid boat. She got us home just fine.

Unfortunately, it looks like it's going to be a while before I convince any of them to come back out on the boat with me again.